There are certain things you take for granted when you grow up. Customs and traditions that just make sense to you, but when someone outside your circle sees them, they're shocked. Small things, like which side of the sidewalk to walk on or how you say certain words.
These customs are just a facet of the human experience. We tend to group up automatically, building a shared identity for our own safety. There's a reason the "us vs. them" mentality is so prevalent and so fucking effective.
Gotham is a place that's nearly impossible to acclimate to unless you were born here. I've seen more than one naive dreamer stroll in from Metropolis with visions of making it big, only to end up bleeding out in some alley because Slick Steve was feeling frisky on a Monday.
Honestly, if Steve didn't get to them, countless others would have. The moron did something nearly blasphemous in the eyes of a Gothamite: he walked down an alley.
To anyone raised in Gotham, stepping into an alley is like dousing yourself in gasoline and handing out matches to strangers. Gotham has a ridiculous amount of wealth flowing through it, but it's also the crime capital of America. If only those dreamers and opportunists took that fact seriously.
There are certain rules you have to live by if you want to even breathe a day in Gotham.
Rule number one: Never go down an alley. I might be repeating myself, but important things need to be said twice; in fact, it might as well be the only doctrine of the church of Gotham. There may be a million alleys in this city, but you don't step into them. Need a shortcut? Too bad, you should've planned your route better. Want to toss your trash in that convenient dumpster? Don't, just drop it at the alley's entrance. The shitty street was not clean to begin with. See someone on the ground who looks like they need help? If they wanted to live, they shouldn't have stepped into an alley. No exceptions, if you enter an alley, you might as well sign your death certificate.
Martha and Thomas Wayne could attest to that. Even the rich and powerful were not allowed in the alleys.
Rule number two: Don't go out at night. On your way home from a friend's house? You should've stayed there. If they're a real friend, they'd have insisted you crash at their place. Want to check out that hot new nightclub? Why the fuck would you do that? Are you Bruce Wayne, don't bother, your broke ass won't get in anyway. Hear screams for help outside your door? Grab whatever you've got for defense and huddle in a corner; your door might get busted down soon.
Rule number three: A friendly face is a deadly face. Some guy starts chatting you up? He's probably trying to hook you on drugs to score some for himself. That hot girl in your class suddenly invites you out? Turn her down, she's likely setting you up to get jumped, you should probably change schools, just in case she was a psycho and completely serious in her confession. A kindly old man handing out food to the less fortunate? That food's probably drugged, and you'll wake up missing a kidney.
Rule number four: Don't ask questions. A man walks into a café and hands you twenty bucks to leave? You walk out and don't think about how the place is suddenly under new management. Police closing off a street? You don't want to know why, and if you find out, you're likely to be implicated. Need directions to the local church and see a man in a suit? Figure it out yourself or go home. If he's a businessman, he'll probably spit on you; if he's not, he won't appreciate the question.
Rule number five: Don't draw attention. Want to flex with the latest phone or a swanky watch? You might as well write "easy mark" in big pink letters on your chest. Trained your ass off to become the next hotshot quarterback? If you're lucky, Paul slips me twenty bucks to make sure you miss your next game. If you're unlucky, Vinnie slips me a hundred to break your legs. Drawing attention puts you on someone's radar, and in this city, being on someone's radar was taboo.
Normally, I'd never dare draw attention to myself. I already get enough grief for my face, so anything extra would just make me a target. I know my place in this city: a no-name orphan with only his looks going for him.
So why the hell was I standing in the middle of a courtyard holding a bouquet of roses? Because, like every other dreamer in this city, I'm greedy, and the prize at the end of this was too tempting to pass up.
That's why I stood here clutching these goddamn roses with trembling hands. They cost me my lunch money for the week, but I wanted this to go a certain way. I bitched internally about roses being too expensive, but it was more likely that I was just that broke. Being an orphan in Gotham does that to you, unless your parents get murdered in front of you and Bruce fucking Wayne adopts you. Lucky bastard.
The image of Dick Grayson flashed through my mind, and I gritted my teeth. Both of us are orphans with pretty faces, but because Dick was a circus freak, he got special attention from Bruce Wayne. Envy boiled in my gut before I unclenched my jaw and relaxed.
It wouldn't do me any good to look like I was plotting murder, not with the entire school's eyes on me, and definitely not when my target was someone who despised the shit side of Gotham.
Besides, Dickhead wasn't the only lucky one. My gaze flicked to the corner of my vision before I refocused on the task at hand. In the long run, my luck might be even better, if insanely risky.
That risk had my nerves on edge, but I wasn't giving up the prize, not when I was so close to changing my life.
The stares from everyone in the courtyard weren't helping. Their gazes were like police spotlights on the hunt for a convict. Didn't they have anything better to do than watch my dumb ass? Who was I kidding? They're teenagers; of course, they had nothing better to do.
I got it. I made a striking image. I wore the school's uniform, but this fancy-ass prep school had us dressed swanky. My shoulder-length hair was picture-perfect, and my amber eyes bordered on gold. I had one thing to thank my good-for-nothing parents for: I was hot. Even if that sometimes made it harder to stay under the radar.
Still I cursed my shit luck. Of course, the day I decide to flip the table is the day no one has anything better to do. I was tempted to scrap my plan and approach my target later, but I'd already shown up with the roses, and there was no way anyone would ignore me now.
I'm also pretty sure Roses had a non-refundable clause and I'm not going another week without lunch to run through this plan again.
At least I didn't have to worry too much about the rich pricks seeing me. This was a school for the wealthy and the academically gifted. The public courtyard wasn't the haunt of second-generation snobs, so the kids around me were scholarship students like me. I wasn't one of the rich kids; I barely scraped by to earn my scholarship. It took countless sleepless nights of studying, but this school offered potential and boarding, so I had to come here.
The older you get, the more likely you are to disappear in an orphanage. Not that younger kids were safe either, especially the girls. Another thing I really didn't want to think about.
Finally, my target showed up. She was beautiful, which automatically meant I should avoid her. In Gotham, if you're hot, you tend to do dumb shit, and God knows who's drawn to you. So it's usually safer to steer clear of girls like her. But she was different; she was Commissioner Gordon's daughter, so she wasn't likely to do anything stupid. Not that her being a genuinely good person would normally have me talking to her. I very much liked not being shot at.
Barbara was a tight little thing. Her bright red hair was tied in a ponytail, and her toned body came from years of gymnastics or maybe karate. She was highly athletic and a certified genius. With everything she had going for her, she was a prize everyone wanted a piece of, which meant I usually avoided her like the plague.
Still, even if I didn't want to do what I was about to do, I would. I wasn't asking questions, and the reward was too tempting. So as the redheaded girl walked through the courtyard, nose buried in a book, I approached.
The crowd's chatter grew louder as I got closer. Barbara might not have been looking where she was going, but she had an uncanny sense of her surroundings. She dodged everyone without glancing up from her book, but as I approached and the chatter peaked, she looked up.
The sight of me must have shocked her. Confusion flashed across her face. She'd never seen me before, so me standing in front of her with roses wasn't something on her to-do list. Before she could ask what was going on, I acted.
I locked eyes with her and held out the roses.
"I like you, Barbara. Will you go out with me?" I said softly, my cheeks blazing, not from embarrassment, but because I was struggling to contain my glee.
Her eyes widened, stunned. I was sure she had been confessed to countless times before, but this one might be a bit too bold for her tastes. But she recovered quickly, thanks to that big brain of hers.
"Um, look, I'm flattered, but I don't even know your name," she said hastily. She was a proper sort of girl, which meant my good looks weren't enough to win her over. It sucked, and it meant I'd wasted my lunch money.
"My name is Aster Moore. You may not know me yet, but I'll keep confessing to you until you say yes," I said with a blinding smile, my eyes shining with determination.
I was being entirely genuine even if I could give less of a shit if Barbara accepted.
Not that I don't find her attractive. Like I said with looks like that and her stellar personality, everyone wanted a piece of her. I was certainly not an exception to that. I just knew better than to step into the limelight with her.
Well that was the case then but as the gazes boring into me could prove my stance on that had changed. I did my best to ignore the murmuring crowd and the pointed looks, I looked over at Barbara with all the intensity I could provide, hoping that it could change the outcome of this little act of mine.
She blushed slightly but looked away first. It was a shame; she had pretty eyes, and I'd heard eye contact was key to winning someone over. I could tell which way the wind was blowing and while it sucked that I wasted my lunch money this was fine, even if she didn't fall for me, I won. Her being my girlfriend was never the real prize.
[Congratulations on making your first confession! Sadly, it failed but do not fret, your fragile heart keep trying young man! To tide you over here is the consolation prize!]
[Gadget Tinker 3/10.]
[Would you like to open your prize?]
I ignored the floating screen hovering in my gaze for now. Most people would not notice my attention being drawn to a seemingly random direction but Barbara was a genius, even if she was a particularly flustered one right now.
That screen was the whole reason I'd done this ridiculous act. I had no idea where this thing came from, but I was totally fine with it. It sucked that I didn't get the prize for her accepting my confession. Peak human conditioning could've changed my life. But I'd roll with being a Gadget Tinker. I had no clue what that meant, but with the other prize being something like peak conditioning, it had to be good.
I could figure out the exact details of my little prize later. For now, I needed to gauge her reaction to my confession and plan my next steps.
She was the only person the System had reacted to, and I needed to keep confessing to her to earn rewards. I couldn't afford to come off as a creep in her eyes and risk her snitching to her father. Commissioner Gordon may be a paragon of the good in Gotham, but he's still a single father, and anyone who messed with his daughter would regret it.
The subtle blush on her face had deepened, spreading to her neck. She clutched the book she'd been reading like it was a legendary shield capable of stopping a blow from the Demon King himself. Her eyes darted around the crowd, avoiding mine.
She was clearly worried about how the crowd would react. As a teenager thrust into the spotlight, her embarrassment was probably off the charts. I could practically see the thought, Oh God, why is this happening? spilling from her head.
My own embarrassment, minor as it might have been, faded as her cute reaction amused me. Despite her panic, she wasn't showing any truly negative signs, so I should be able to confess again later without earning a stalker label.
At least I hoped so.
"Uh, okay, um," Barbara stammered, trying to collect herself. She glanced at me briefly before looking away again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She was aiming for calm and collected, but the bright red on her face and her near stutter weren't helping her case.
"This is… a lot. Like, a lot a lot," she said, her arms flailing toward the roses, her gaze flickering between them and the crowd.
Her words and gestures made the crowd murmur even louder. She must have heard them because she stiffened briefly before taking the bouquet from me and clutching it to her chest. She clearly wanted to just get the hell out of here but she was the type of person to respond to even minor questions from strangers and she knew I wanted an answer.
"I mean, I'd get it if we'd talked before, but…" she said nervously, shifting her weight from foot to foot to burn off some of her anxious energy.
"You don't even know me," I echoed her earlier words with a small, genuine grin, amusement dancing in my eyes.
"Yeah," she said lamely, glancing at my face before looking away again. She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and met my eyes.
"Look, I'm really flattered. You've got guts confessing like this, but this whole grand gesture with flowers is way too much for a first meeting," she said clearly, her strength surprising me for a moment. I'd expected her to stay a flustered hamster for longer, but she had some backbone.
That impression faded as she avoided my gaze again, her face blazing red. I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly, putting on an embarrassed smile, and decided to explain myself.
"I know, this is probably the last thing you expected today, but I've been bottling this up for so long… I had to say something before someone else beat me to it. At least now you know I'm interested," I said, reciting the words I'd practiced for a week. Parts of it were true; I'd been nervously anticipating this moment for weeks, though mostly for the System reward.
There was also a part of me that genuinely liked her. Barbara was everything this city was not. She was beautiful in a way that was one in a million. She had a wit sharp enough to cut, and the sheer goodness she oozed was something this city needed. She was perfect, and the small orphan kid who dreamed of making it big always hoped he would meet someone like her.
I never would have confessed to her had it been my choice. I knew my place as a no-name orphan who could barely afford to eat. So I always kept feelings like this bottled up.
She looked at me, not quite meeting my gaze, studying my face as if trying to read the words I didn't say. I smiled stiffly, hoping the genuine parts of my confession were coming through.
With her IQ and her father's influence, Barbara could probably sniff out manipulation from a mile away.
"Maybe next time, try talking to me first," she snarked, her strength returning briefly before fading into an awkward smile as she glanced at my eyes.
I grinned back, and she looked away.
"Will do. I only know the parts of you everyone else does, and I can't wait to learn the parts only you know," I said simply. The words seemed to startle her, and she stiffened.
"And I'm going to confess to you every day until you say yes, Barbara. That's a promise," I added with childlike excitement, my eyes flicking to the System before refocusing on her.
She took one last look at my eyes before retreating in a completely different direction from where she'd been heading.
"Would you look at the time? I've got to go!" she shouted as she fled. I let a chuckle escape my lips before strolling out of the courtyard myself. I'd achieved my goal, and sticking around would only invite trouble.
There weren't many rivals for Barbara's affection, considering what happened to the last kid who bothered her too much, but with her looks, trouble was inevitable. And now that I'd declared my intentions to the whole damn school, that trouble would likely come knocking at my door.
That trouble was of the worst kind. The rich kind. The scholarship students tended to be restrained in how they acted in this place, but the rich kids were far more unruly. Most of them left Barbara alone, as she was far from the easy targets they were used to, but I knew of a couple of snobs who had their eyes on her, and they would not take my sudden intrusion well.
Still, I wasn't giving up on her. Not when she was the key to the strangeness that had invaded my life.
I was probably putting too much weight on a random screen promising vast rewards if I confessed to a pretty girl, but strange things happen. I lived in a city where the living embodiment of fear was summoned and terrorized criminals as some sort of bat-like creature. There were also legitimate superheroes all over the place. Superman was a shining icon for the strange, after all.
So, a random screen promising rewards if I confessed to the Commissioner's daughter was plausible, even if I had no idea what the screen was getting out of this. It didn't matter in the long run, as the gifts it offered were far too tempting.
I wondered if I'd always had this thing or if it was a recent addition. I only found out about its existence when I passed Barbara in the hall, and it announced "Target Found" and demanded I confess to her.
As you can imagine, I didn't take the random screen appearing in front of me very well. I thought my roommate had finally managed to slip me something, and I'd have to deal with withdrawals for the next month as I tried to purge myself.
Thankfully, my reaction to a situation like that wasn't to start screaming and panicking. Instead, I fled the hallway, hauled myself to my dorm, and holed up there for an entire day.
I spent the whole day huddled in a corner, sweating nervously as I waited for some sort of deep hallucinations. After a day of nothing going wrong except a screen popping up, I figured it wasn't drugs.
Which meant something strange was going on. Either someone with superpowers was taking time out of their day to mess with some random kid, or I was a whole lot more special than Dickhead Grayson, with powers he could only dream of.
I preferred the world in which I was special, but I still spent weeks doing nothing to ensure someone messing with me would have given up out of boredom. I also took that time to plan how I was going to confess to Barbara, but I had to be low-key about it, as I didn't want to give the game away if someone really was messing with me.
I looked at my system again. It was sparse, and no matter what I did, nothing changed, so it was hard to figure out the rules it ran by. It didn't say much except when it first demanded I confess to Barbara, and the most it said was when I finally did confess. Now it was just a page with a target list and a small present icon next to Barbara's name.
[Confession System]
[Target 1: Barbara Gordon {23:50}]
[Target 2: Empty]
[]
Barbara had been on the list as soon as this thing popped up, but no one else triggered it. I should know, I'd been subtly eyeing various girls while plotting, but not a single one became a target. That sucked, as the countdown meant I could only confess to Barbara once a day and could only harvest a reward when I did.
If it were up to me, I'd confess to every girl in this school, but the system was picky. If only it told me what criteria it was searching for in targets, as I had no clue.
It definitely wasn't appearance, as there were plenty of pretty girls around, and while Barbara was in a category of her own, many could match her. Maybe it was because she was the total package looks, brains, and personality.
I cursed quietly to myself if that was the case, but I could roll with it. I might never get another target to confess to in my entire life, but I was fine with just Barbara. I had no idea if Gadget Tinker was worth the embarrassment I went through today, but if I got her to agree to date me, I'd get Peak Human Conditioning.
I hoped my genuine affection and the social pressure from hundreds of eyes watching her would get her to accept, but that failed. Barbara really wasn't an easy mark, but I knew that coming into this.
Well, there was one way to find out what my reward was. I just had to accept it.
I rushed toward my dorm, ignoring the whispers and pointed looks from my classmates. My lips twitched as news of my public confession spread like wildfire, but that was the price I paid for playing games like this.
I quickened my pace, knowing it would fuel the rumors further, but my mind was filled with curiosity and hope that I had the pieces to change my life and that this wasn't some big prank from a superpowered idiot with too much time on their hands.
Before I knew it, I'd arrived at the shared dorm. I opened the door, looked around, and let out a breath of relief as my roommate wasn't there today.
This place was a shared dorm, but my shithead roommate was usually too busy partying to spend time here, so it was my private escape from the city most of the time. Sure, I had to deal with the guy trying to get me hooked on drugs so I'd become another idiot he could bend and twist into whatever shape he pleased, but I was savvy enough to avoid most of his attempts.
Besides, in Gotham, guys trying to get you hooked on drugs was just another Tuesday.
I frowned as familiar envy burned in my gut when I got a better look at the room.
The place was split in two, and it was obvious which side was mine and which belonged to the prick with too much money.
On the right, the bed was covered in random designer clothes and messy sheets. The desk meant for studying had an overpriced computer plopped on it, with the rest of the space taken up by wrappers and a collection of cans. The other side was sparse, with just standard sheets on the bed. The desk on the left had papers and books neatly arranged, along with a small desk lamp that looked close to falling apart.
There was no question which side was mine. I was just another street rat who managed to worm his way into the illustrious Gotham High, after all.
I unclenched my fists and took a deep breath. There was no point wanting what I couldn't have. If I was lucky enough with this system, I'd have everything here and more.
I looked at the system and hesitated. I was either moments away from greatness, or my hopes would crash to rock bottom. I feared what that pit might look like, but I gathered my courage. I wasn't going to hold myself back out of fear; that just wasn't who I was.
So, I accepted the reward and immediately knew I wasn't being strung along in some brain-dead prank.
My mind filled with images and schematics, each flashing through like lightning. The knowledge was so vast and confusing it might as well have been in a different language, yet I somehow understood it while also not understanding. When I focused on one thought, I knew how to build the thing in my mind with a certainty as solid as steel, but when I let go, the knowledge slipped away like a dream.
I knew, but I was clueless. I could, but I couldn't. It was confounding, but I felt giddy as the knowledge bloomed inside me.
Being a Gadget Tinker let me build technology that could do amazing things, as long as they fell under the category of Gadget. I could build a pocket laser that melted steel in seconds or a smoke bomb that could flood the whole school if I wished.
But that wasn't all. I could build things that defied rationality. For example, I could create a belt that held far more than humanly possible or wacky devices that shouldn't work but did. I could literally build an arrow with a boxing glove on it that would fly with force far beyond normal and strike with the impact of a punch instead of falling limply as it should.
I was like Q from James Bond, but with a strange case of ADHD and running on so many drugs that being around me would give a contact high.
My eyes gleamed, and I felt the urge to start building immediately, but when my hands reached into empty space, the euphoria faded as clarity struck.
I took one long look at the sparse side of the room and frowned. I could build miracles, but I had nothing to build with. I barely had enough money to feed myself, so building the complex machinery in my mind was impossible. I couldn't even sell the schematics, as when I tried to view them in my head, I got gibberish. I just knew what I could build, not how it was built.
Frustration nearly overwhelmed me. I could change my life right now if I had the resources even a normal kid my age had. I clenched my fists, feeling the unfairness of the world, but I let go and breathed.
I might not be able to do something now, but this was just one reward from my system, and I was bound to get countless more. I was someone like Superman, destined for greatness. I just had to bide my time until that day came.
Besides, it wasn't like I had nothing. I glanced at my desk lamp, fingers twitching in anticipation. I also looked at Phil's computer thoughtfully. I could use the lamp and one of Phil's overpriced RAM sticks to build something that would get me more funds. I frowned, as it wouldn't technically be legal, but my near-empty stomach and greed got the better of me.
I was about to commit a crime, but it should be fine.