Chapter 4: FIRST BLOOD
Day fourteen. My ribs still ached from sleeping on the shelter cot wrong.
I'd been back to the Rusty Nail every night for two weeks. Same stool. Same cheap beer. Same watching. Sofia had started nodding when I entered—not quite friendship, but acknowledgment. Kyle still gave me the black-eyed stare. Magda served my beer without comment.
Progress measured in millimeters.
The System pulsed in the back of my mind—a quest marker I'd been ignoring. Tutorial quests were supposed to guide new users. This one had appeared three days ago.
[TUTORIAL QUEST: ASSIST A MUTANT IN NEED]
[REWARD: 100 EXP, 150 NP]
[TIME LIMIT: NONE]
[LOCATION: MARKED]
A golden arrow pointed southeast whenever I focused on it. I'd been avoiding following it. Tutorial quests in games were usually simple. In real life? Nothing was simple.
But tonight, walking back from the Rusty Nail with three dollars in my pocket and nowhere particular to be, I followed the arrow.
It led me to the subway.
The platform was nearly empty at 9:30 PM. A businessman reading a newspaper. An elderly woman with shopping bags. And three men in work clothes circling something near the far end.
I walked closer. The System arrow pulsed brighter.
A kid—teenager, Asian, skinny—pressed against the tiled wall. His jacket was torn at the collar. I could see scales there. Iridescent. Beautiful in the fluorescent light.
Mutant.
"Freak," one of the men said. Not yelling. Conversational. Like he was stating a fact. "You shouldn't be on public transit. Go back to whatever hole you crawled from."
The kid didn't respond. His hands were shaking.
"I'm talking to you, mutie."
The man shoved. The kid stumbled toward the tracks.
I should've been smart. Should've called for help. Transit cops. Anyone. But the quest marker was burning and the kid was three feet from falling onto electrified rails and I was moving before thinking finished.
"Walk away."
Three faces turned toward me. The kid's eyes went wide.
The first man—stocky, tattoos on his forearms—looked me up and down. "This your friend?"
"Don't know him."
"Then keep walking."
"Can't do that."
The man stepped closer. He smelled like beer and cigarettes. "You one of them?"
"No. But I'm someone who's had a shit two weeks and honestly would enjoy the opportunity to do something that feels right." I kept my voice level. "So walk away. Go home. Forget you saw him."
"Tough guy." The man smiled. No humor in it. "Jake, Pat—we got a hero."
The other two moved to flank me. I'd known this would happen. Known I'd get my ass kicked. But the kid was still three feet from the tracks and at least now they were focused on me.
First punch came from my right. I saw it—barely. Turned my head. The fist caught my ear instead of my temple. Pain exploded. Everything rang.
I swung back. Wild. Uncoordinated. Connected with something soft. A grunt.
Then I was on the ground. Boot caught me in the ribs. Once. Twice. I curled around the pain. Tasted blood. Another kick—my back this time.
This was stupid. This was so incredibly stupid.
Through the ringing and the pain, I heard shouting. Not the men. Someone else.
"Transit police! Back off!"
The kicking stopped. Footsteps running. The men scattered—down the platform, up the stairs, gone.
I rolled onto my back. The ceiling tiles swam. A cop—young, looked terrified—stood over me. "You alright?"
"Peachy."
"Need an ambulance?"
"No." Getting arrested or documented wasn't an option. No ID. No valid explanation for being here. "Just need a minute."
"Those guys jumped you?"
"Something like that."
The cop looked skeptical. "You want to file a report?"
"No."
He waited, clearly wanting more. I gave him nothing. After a moment, he nodded. "Your funeral. Get that looked at though."
He walked away to check on the elderly woman who'd witnessed everything. I lay there and counted to sixty. Breathing hurt. Moving would hurt worse.
Slowly, I got to hands and knees. Stood. The world tilted but stayed vertical.
The kid was gone. Smart. When cops show up, mutants disappear.
I limped toward the exit. Each step sent fresh pain through my ribs. Probably bruised. Hopefully not broken. I'd know by morning—either breathing would hurt less or I'd need medical attention I couldn't afford.
[TUTORIAL QUEST COMPLETE]
[REWARD: 100 EXP, 150 NP]
[LEVEL UP!]
[YOU ARE NOW LEVEL 3]
The notification barely registered. I made it up the stairs and out onto the street. Night air hit my split lip—cold, sharp, clarifying.
I needed to find somewhere to clean up. A gas station bathroom. Maybe the shelter if I could make it that far. Twenty blocks.
"Hey."
I turned. The kid stood in the shadow of a building. Close enough to talk, far enough to run.
"You're not a mutant," he said.
"No."
"Why'd you help?"
"Because someone should."
He studied me. I could see his power now—scales running up his neck, disappearing under his shirt. The streetlight caught them and they shimmered green-gold.
"You're bleeding," he said.
"I'm aware."
"I know a place. If you want. To clean up."
I should've said no. Should've gone to the shelter, gotten what help I could there. But the kid was offering trust after I'd bled for him and that meant something.
"Yeah. Okay."
He led me six blocks east, then down an alley I never would've found alone. A service door, rusted but functional. Down concrete stairs into darkness. He pulled a flashlight from his jacket.
The room was small—old utility closet or maintenance space. Blanket on the floor. Backpack. Camping lantern. Home.
"Sit," he said.
I sat. The lantern clicked on. Harsh white light filled the space.
The kid rummaged in his pack. Pulled out a can of soup. "I can heat this. My power. I just—" He looked at his hands. "I have to be careful."
"Take your time."
He held the can. Closed his eyes. His hands began to glow—faint orange, then brighter. The metal warmed. Steam rose from the top. He concentrated hard, sweat on his forehead. The glow faded. He popped the can open with a church key and handed it to me.
"Thanks." I drank. Chicken noodle. Lukewarm. Best thing I'd tasted in days.
We sat in silence for ten minutes. Neither of us spoke. The silence felt comfortable somehow. Two people who'd survived something together, not needing words.
Finally, he said, "I'm Danny."
"Marcus."
"Your face looks bad."
I touched my eye. Already swelling. "I've had worse."
"Liar."
I laughed. Regretted it immediately. Ribs screamed protest. "You're right. This is definitely the worst."
Danny smiled. Small. Uncertain. "Why'd you really help? People don't just do that. Not for us."
"I'm building something," I said. Careful. Testing. "A place where people like you don't have to hide. Don't have to take shit from guys like that. A real place. Territory. Community."
"Like Xavier's school?"
He knew about Xavier. Interesting. The school wasn't public knowledge but mutants talked.
"No. Different. Xavier teaches kids to fit in. I want to build somewhere we don't have to fit in because it's ours."
Danny looked at me for a long moment. "You sound crazy."
"Probably am."
"But you're not lying. I can tell. You really believe it."
"I do."
He pulled his knees to his chest. The scales caught the lamplight. "There are others. People like me. Scared. Nowhere to go. Powers they can't control." His voice dropped. "I burned down my family's house. Accidentally. They kicked me out. I was fourteen."
Three years living on the street. Alone. Afraid of his own hands.
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault."
"Still sorry it happened." I set down the empty can. "Those others. The ones with nowhere to go. You know where to find them?"
"Some. Why?"
"Because I need to talk to them. Build trust. Show them there's another option."
Danny looked at me. Really looked—assessing, judging, deciding. Whatever he saw must have been enough.
"I can introduce you. But if you're lying, if you're some kind of cop or hunter—"
"I'm not."
"Yeah." He nodded slowly. "I believe you. Don't know why, but I do."
"When can we meet them?"
"Day after tomorrow. Church basement in the Bronx. I'll take you there." He stood. "You should sleep here tonight. Easier than walking back to wherever."
"The shelter."
"Then definitely sleep here. This place is closer. And private. No one asks questions."
He was right. I lay back on the concrete floor. My ribs throbbed. My face felt like ground beef. But the tutorial quest was complete and I'd earned a mutant's trust and tomorrow I'd keep building.
"Marcus?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For the subway. For not letting them."
"Don't mention it."
Danny turned off the lantern. Darkness settled. I heard him shift on his blanket.
"There are others," he said again quietly. "People who need what you're talking about. If you're real—if you can actually do it—they'll follow you."
I closed my eyes. Pain pulsed with my heartbeat.
Five people. If Danny can introduce me to five people, that's six total. Enough to start. Enough to claim territory and build the first foundation.
The System hummed acknowledgment.
[QUEST PROGRESS: FIND YOUR FIRST CITIZEN]
[POTENTIAL RECRUITMENT OPPORTUNITY IDENTIFIED]
[CONTINUE CURRENT APPROACH]
I slept on concrete in a utility closet with a teenager who could burn the city down. My ribs screamed. My face swelled. I'd never felt more certain I was doing the right thing.
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