Peter came to his senses and hurriedly said, "Killing is wrong. We can hand him over to the police. Let the law deal with him. If you kill someone you'll go to prison. It's not worth it for this scumbag."
"Right, right! Don't take the law into your own hands!" the thug blurted, eager to agree.
Darren lowered the gun and shook his head. "You've got me all wrong. I'm not some bloodthirsty maniac. I wouldn't shoot on a whim."
Peter visibly relaxed. This guy might be odd, but at least he sounded reasonable.
Then, without warning, Darren swung his foot and delivered a kick that landed square between the thug's legs.
"Aaaah!"
The thug's eyes popped, he grabbed himself and screamed. Sounds not meant for polite ears leaked through his pants. Peter's face went pale. He swallowed and forced a word out. "I know you're upset because he harassed that woman, but is that—"
Darren spoke as if commenting on the weather. "Nope. I just did it because he insulted me earlier."
Peter: "."
That petty? Really?
Peter jumped down the fire escape, scooped the crumpled thug into his arms and called over his shoulder, "Buddy, I gotta go. Nice meeting you. I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
Before he vanished on a strand of webbing Peter swung toward the nearest hospital. The thug needed medical attention or he'd meet a judge with extra urgency.
Darren watched Spider-Man disappear between the towers. He squinted up at where those webs were anchoring. In this part of town the buildings were sparse. Where exactly was that web sticking to?
The brown-haired woman hugged her bag close and thanked Darren. "Sir, thank you for saving me."
"No problem." Darren smiled slightly, then leveled the gun at her. "Now, if you don't mind, please hand your purse over again. For tax purposes."
The woman blinked.
[Evil +0.01]
Darren tossed the bag into the alley and walked out. Stopping a crime gained Justice Points. Committing a crime gained Crime Points. The numbers were tiny but consistent. He still did not know what those meters actually unlocked. The system loved keeping secrets, so Darren shrugged. Figure it out later. For now the main rule of the game was simple: have fun.
At that moment his phone buzzed. Tony called.
"Hey Darren, I'm throwing a birthday party at my place. Want to come?"
"When?"
"Tomorrow night at ten."
"Count me in."
This was the first NPC invite Darren had received. Maybe high affection unlocked interactions in the real world as well. He tapped yes and grinned.
...
Night fell and Darren rode up to Tony Stark's seaside mansion. The place was lit like a small country, exotic cars lined the drive and the party energy hit like a punch. Inside people swayed to pounding music. On the platform Tony danced in his latest armor, drink in hand, robotic moves more chaotic than stylish. The sight made Darren's eyes light up. He whispered, "System, record everything."
[Recording mode activated]
He grabbed a few canapés and scanned the crowd. A familiar red-haired figure stepped into view. She wore a leopard-print dress that fit like it was painted on. Darren blinked and walked over.
"Widow" he greeted with a mouthful of snack.
Standing before him was Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, a Level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. Not the vamp from earlier. This was the agency's top field agent and one of Darren's predecessors at getting things done. She had slid into Tony's world by working as his assistant and, with typical Black Widow efficiency, had Tony wrapped around her finger. That had been one more thing on Darren's checklist.
Natasha corrected him with a slight twitch, "Black Widow."
"Same thing," Darren waved.
She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you here?"
"Tony invited me. I don't usually socialize but who can pass up a spectacle." Darren gestured to the stage where Tony was performing.
Natasha glanced at the man in armor, then lowered her voice. "I sent samples of Tony's blood to headquarters. Palladium levels are alarmingly high. He's deteriorating fast. At most seventy-two hours."
"So he's partying like a man on the clock," Darren said.
Natasha nodded. "The science team is working on a fix. My assignment shifted from surveillance to preventing Tony from intentionally doing something catastrophic. If you can talk to him, try to keep him from spiraling."
"On it. I'll be the life insurance policy." Darren offered a thumbs up, genuine enough to be comforting.
Onstage Tony grabbed the microphone and grinned at the crowd. "A lot of people ask me how I use the restroom in this suit."
He pantomimed relief. "Like this."
The crowd exploded into laughter and then into a chorus of terrible requests. "Tony, show us how you poop in that suit!" "Yeah, demo it!" "I wanna see the billionaire go live!"
The gathering chanted for a billionaire's bowel movement like it was sport. Natasha watched Darren, who was pretending not to egg the crowd on even though his mouth was already forming a smile. She frowned. Watching Tony party like this made her mission harder.
Darren leaned closer, mouth full of canapé. He spotted the redhead he'd met earlier standing nearby in the crowd. It clicked—this was a different redhead. He moved closer.
"Natasha!" he said, mispronouncing like he always did.
She gave him a clipped look and then relented. "I've already sent Tony's blood to R&D. If this decompensates, he'll try anything. I need you to keep him alive until we have a plan."
"Consider it done."
Tony's MC banter continued. Someone in the audience heckled: "Tony, demo your shit! Let's see billionaire plumbing!" The crowd roared. Tony grinned and took the bait with theatrical flair. People loved the absurdity. A billionaire going to the bathroom publically had novelty value.
Natasha watched Darren pull a face and then cover it with a hand. She remembered the many tests he'd been put through and how he'd passed most of them in his own chaotic way. That made her trust him, begrudgingly.
...
Outside the mansion, free-roaming chaos, inside the mansion this was Tony's finale on the stage of life. Darren would handle both the comedy and the crisis. The party kept laughing. The clock ticked. The real work, as always, happened behind the spectacle.