Chapter 2: FORTY-EIGHT HOURS
Hour twelve and the binding pain settled into his bones.
Marcus sat on a bench in Central Park, pretending to read a discarded newspaper. The words blurred. Everything blurred except the System text burning across his vision.
[BINDING PROGRESS: 12.3%]
[NEURAL INTEGRATION: STAGE 2 OF 7]
[ESTIMATED PAIN LEVEL: MODERATE]
Moderate. Marcus wanted to laugh. His hands hadn't stopped shaking since dawn. Every breath felt like inhaling ground glass.
An old woman sat at the other end of the bench, feeding pigeons. She glanced at him once, then away. Marcus knew what she saw—another junkie sweating through withdrawal. Good. Let her think that.
He'd found a public bathroom an hour ago. Splashed water on his face. Saw himself properly for the first time in the cracked mirror.
Not his face. The man in the reflection was maybe thirty, weathered in a way Marcus had never been. Stubble. Scar on his chin. Hands that had done manual labor. Brown hair too long. Grey-green eyes that looked tired.
Whose body is this? Was there someone in here before me?
[HOST BODY WAS UNOCCUPIED]
[DEATH OCCURRED 47 MINUTES BEFORE YOUR ARRIVAL]
[NO PREVIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS DISPLACED]
The System could read his thoughts. Of course it could. Marcus filed that information away and kept pretending to read.
Hour sixteen hit him in a Dunkin' Donuts bathroom.
The pain that had been constant white noise suddenly became a screaming crescendo. Marcus collapsed against the stall wall, biting his tongue to keep from making noise. Blood filled his mouth.
[BINDING PROGRESS: 33.4%]
[WARNING: APPROACHING PEAK PAIN THRESHOLD]
[DO NOT PANIC]
Easy for you to say. You're not the one having your nervous system rewritten.
The System didn't respond. Marcus focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Someone tried the door, found it locked, walked away.
Five minutes passed. Ten. The pain receded from "dying" to merely "being tortured."
Marcus stood on legs that barely held him and stumbled to the sink. His reflection looked worse. Pale. Sweating. Shaking.
I need to find somewhere safe. Somewhere I can ride out the next thirty hours.
The shelter had rules. No drugs. No alcohol. No violence. Check-in at six PM, out by seven AM. They'd asked him one question when he arrived that evening: "Are you using?"
"No."
The woman at the desk looked skeptical but tired. She handed him a plastic bin. "All belongings in here. You get it back when you leave. Cot's in the back. Dinner's at seven if you want it."
Marcus took the bin. He had nothing to put in it.
The shelter smelled like disinfectant and despair. Fifty cots crammed into a gymnasium. Men of every age, every background, all united by having nowhere else to go. Some talked. Most didn't.
Marcus found his assigned cot and collapsed onto it. The thin mattress was paradise.
[TUTORIAL QUEST PROGRESS]
[TIME SURVIVED: 18 HOURS, 43 MINUTES]
[CONTINUE]
Dinner came. Watery soup. Bread. Marcus forced it down. His stomach rebelled but he kept it there through sheer willpower. This body needed fuel.
Around him, men ate in silence or muttered conversations. Marcus listened.
"...cops cleared out the underpass..."
"...that mutant bar in the Bronx, you hear about that..."
"...fucking freaks should be registered..."
Marcus's attention sharpened at "mutant bar." He wanted to ask, wanted to seem interested, but instinct warned him. Stay invisible. Learn by listening.
The man kept talking. "Place called the Rusty Nail. All mutants, serving mutants. Owner's got some kinda power, I heard. Keeps the place safe."
"Safe from what?"
"From us, man. Normal people."
Both men laughed. Marcus memorized the name. The Rusty Nail. Bronx. He'd find it when this was over.
Hour twenty-four arrived at midnight.
Marcus lay on his cot, curled tight against the pain. Around him, men snored and coughed and turned in their sleep. The System text burned brighter than ever.
[BINDING PROGRESS: 50.0%]
[PEAK PAIN COMMENCING]
[DO NOT MOVE]
The pain hit like a tidal wave. Every nerve ending, every synapse, every cell screamed in unison. Marcus bit down on his rolled-up jacket to keep from making noise.
This is killing me. This has to be killing me.
[HOST VITALS REMAIN STABLE]
[PAIN IS TEMPORARY]
[CONTINUE]
Marcus wanted to curse the System. Couldn't. Couldn't breathe. Could only endure as his body burned from the inside.
One hour. Two. Three.
Slowly—impossibly slowly—the pain receded.
[BINDING PROGRESS: 53.1%]
[PEAK PAIN CONCLUDED]
[INTEGRATION CONTINUING NORMALLY]
Marcus unclenched. His jaw ached. His jacket was soaked with sweat and drool. He lay there, staring at the dark ceiling, feeling his heartbeat gradually slow.
I'm alive.
[TUTORIAL QUEST PROGRESS]
[TIME SURVIVED: 26 HOURS, 11 MINUTES]
[OBJECTIVE NEARLY COMPLETE]
Hour thirty-six crawled past. Marcus ate breakfast. Oatmeal again. Coffee that tasted like boiled dirt. He drank two cups anyway.
The shelter cleared out at seven AM. Marcus stepped into morning cold and wondered where to go. Libraries. Libraries were warm and free and asked no questions.
He found one six blocks away. Spent the day reading newspapers. Learning about 1987. Reagan. The Cold War still cold. Mutant incidents increasing. Fear building.
A front-page article from three months ago: "Senator Proposes Mutant Registration Act." The bill was still in committee. Marcus memorized the senator's name. Kelly. Robert Kelly.
He's the one who gets the Sentinels approved later. Or in this timeline, he would have.
Marcus closed the newspaper. The future he remembered might not happen. He was here now. Variables changed.
Hour forty-eight arrived at 11:47 PM.
Marcus was back in the alley where he'd woken. Seemed appropriate. Full circle.
He leaned against the same dumpster and watched the System countdown.
[BINDING PROGRESS: 99.8%]
[99.9%]
[100.0%]
[BINDING COMPLETE]
[WELCOME, HOST, TO THE MUTANT NATION SYSTEM]
The pain vanished. Just stopped. Marcus almost fell from the sudden absence of agony he'd lived with for two days.
[BASIC INTERFACE UNLOCKED]
[TUTORIAL QUEST COMPLETE]
[REWARDS DISTRIBUTED: 50 EXP, 100 NP]
[LEVEL UP!]
[YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 1]
Marcus held up his right hand. In the dim alley light, he could barely see it—a faint geometric mark on his palm. Lines forming an intricate pattern. Visible only to him, the System confirmed.
He closed his fist. Opened it. The mark remained.
[SYSTEM STATUS AVAILABLE]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO VIEW? Y/N]
Marcus thought yes.
The interface appeared—clean, organized, functional. Everything a project manager could want.
[HOST STATUS]
Name: Marcus Cole
Level: 1
EXP: 50/100
System Level: 0 → 1
Resources:
Nation Points (NP): 100Construction Points (CP): 10 (Daily Generation: +10)Research Points (RP): 0 (Daily Generation: +5)Military Points (MP): 0 (Daily Generation: +5)Diplomatic Points (DP): 0 (Daily Generation: +3)Resonance Points (RSP): 0 (Daily Generation: +1)
Nation Statistics:
Territory: 0 sq kmPopulation: 0Cohesion (CON): N/AManifestation (MAN): N/A
Bond Slots: 1 (Locked until first citizen)
Active Functions: Basic Interface, Status Screen, Quest System
Locked Functions: Territory Management, Citizen Management, Building System, Research Tree, Resonance Bonding, Intelligence Network, Diplomacy System
Marcus read through it twice. Then a third time. The System's purpose crystallized. This wasn't a game. This was a nation-building framework. Resources. Population. Territory. Everything needed to create a sovereign state from scratch.
And the Resonance Bonding—that was his personal power. The System let him borrow abilities from mutant citizens once they were loyal enough.
I get no powers of my own. But I can use theirs. If they trust me.
[CORRECT]
[YOUR STRENGTH IS YOUR NATION]
[BUILD WELL]
Marcus pushed off the dumpster. His body felt better than it had since arriving. The binding pain was gone, replaced by something else. Awareness. Connection to the System.
He could feel it now—a presence in the back of his mind. Not sentient exactly, but responsive. A tool. A partner.
Alright. I survived. Now what?
[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE]
[QUEST: FIND YOUR FIRST CITIZEN]
[OBJECTIVE: RECRUIT ONE MUTANT TO YOUR CAUSE]
[REWARD: 100 EXP, 150 NP, UNLOCK BASIC NATION FUNCTIONS]
[TIME LIMIT: NONE]
[ADDITIONAL NOTE: CHOOSE CAREFULLY]
Marcus walked out of the alley for the second time. The street looked different now. Not just buildings and people—potential. Every mutant in this city was a potential citizen. Every empty lot was potential territory.
The Rusty Nail. The mutant bar in the Bronx. That's where he'd start.
But first, he needed to prepare. Learn. Observe. You didn't walk into a community as an outsider and expect trust. You earned it.
Marcus had been a project manager in his old life. He'd built teams, managed stakeholders, delivered results under impossible constraints. This was the same. Bigger scale, higher stakes, but the fundamentals held.
Understand the problem. Identify resources. Create a plan. Execute.
His stomach growled. Marcus checked his pockets—still empty. Right. He needed money. The System gave him points, but points didn't buy food.
One problem at a time.
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