A Marvelous Gamer

The night air carried the distant hum of traffic, honking cabs, and the muffled chatter of pedestrians from the main road.

Behind a small, dingy diner, the alley was dimly lit, the cracked pavement littered with cigarette butts and discarded flyers. A rusted fire escape loomed overhead, its twisted shadows stretching against the graffiti-covered walls.

Niko Bellic stood with his arms crossed, watching Kevin shift awkwardly into a fighting stance.

It wasn't completely hopeless, but damn, was it painful to look at.

His shoulders were stiff, his fists too tight, and his legs… well, they looked like he was bracing for an earthquake rather than a fight.

Niko sighed. "Your feet are wrong."

Kevin adjusted slightly, exhaling in frustration. "Yeah? I thought you said balance is important."

"Yes. Balance is important." Niko nudged Kevin's foot into place with his own. "Looking like you are about to piss yourself? Not so much.

"Wider stance. Knees bent. You want to be solid—but not stuck. You need to move when the time comes."

Kevin rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up. "Right. So I'm supposed to look intimidating but also ready to dodge when some asshole tries to cheap-shot me. Got it."

Niko smirked. At least the kid was listening.

"Good. Now, lesson one: do not get hit. You think you are tough until someone lands a good punch. Then you are just another idiot on the ground, wondering why your nose is broken."

Kevin smirked. "Yeah, I figured that one out myself. Thanks."

Niko moved fast.

A sudden jab shot toward Kevin's face.

Kevin flinched hard, his hands dropping for a split second before he stumbled back a step.

Niko pinched the bridge of his nose. "And this is why you do not figure things out yourself."

Kevin reset his stance, shaking his head. "You could at least warn me before you—"

Niko's fist shot out again.

This time, it stopped just before Kevin's nose.

Kevin flinched again, his body jerking before his brain caught up.

Niko smirked. "You flinch, you lose."

Kevin groaned. "Oh, I see. You'll just keep punching me until I stop reacting, huh?"

"Close." Niko motioned for him to continue. "In a real fight, your opponent will not warn you first. If you flinch, you lose."

Kevin exhaled sharply. "Duly noted. I'll stay relaxed next time someone swings a bat at me."

Niko ignored the sarcasm and feinted a third time.

Kevin still flinched, though this time, it was smaller—his shoulders twitched, but his whole body didn't recoil.

Niko nodded slightly. "Better. At this rate, maybe in five years, you will not get knocked out in the first ten seconds."

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Appreciate the confidence."

Niko raised his hands. "Now, throw a punch at me."

Kevin clenched his jaw and swung a right hook.

It was wild, unbalanced, and slow.

Niko barely had to move to dodge it. His expression didn't even change.

Then, before Kevin could react, Niko snatched his wrist mid-motion and twisted slightly.

Kevin tensed, his body locking up.

"Too predictable. Too stiff. You load up too much before you throw. A real fighter sees that coming from across the street."

Niko released him with a small shove. "Again. Tighter. Faster."

Kevin exhaled through his nose and threw another punch, this time more controlled.

Niko dodged just as easily.

"Better," Niko admitted. "But still weak."

Kevin scowled. "Yeah, well, maybe if you'd let me actually land one—"

Before he could finish, Niko smacked him lightly across the head.

"Lesson two: in a fight, there is no 'fair.' No rules, no rounds. Just survival.

You don't get to complain that the other guy isn't playing nice. A fight is not a conversation."

Kevin rubbed the side of his head, muttering, "Sure, yeah, let's not discuss things like civilized men."

Niko snorted. "You think civilized men fight?"

He stepped forward, tapping his own jaw. "Aim here? You knock them out."

"Here?" He pointed at his throat. "They cannot breathe."

"Here?" He gestured to his ribs. "Liver. That one takes the fight out of them."

Kevin smirked. "What, no pointers on eye gouging? Or should I save that for when I really need to make a statement?"

Niko chuckled. "Only if you want to end up in prison."

Then he cracked his knuckles. "Now, let's see how you handle someone actually fighting back."

Kevin blinked. "Wait, wha—"

Before he could finish, Niko moved.

Not full speed, but fast enough that Kevin barely had time to react.

His body moved on instinct.

He stumbled back, dodging at the last second.

Niko smirked. "Good. But next time? Counter."

Kevin straightened, rolling his neck. "Fine. Let's try that again."

This time, when Niko feinted, Kevin didn't just dodge—he stepped in and threw a quick jab toward Niko's ribs.

Niko blocked it effortlessly.

But this time, he nodded.

"Not bad. Maybe you won't get your ass kicked outside a bar after all."

Kevin exhaled, shaking out his hands. "Yeah, thanks for the confidence boost. Really feeling the family love here."

Niko grinned. "You are still breathing. That is love."

The real lesson had just begun.

— Kevin —

So yeah, I finally got my real welcome to the Marvel world—with a gun to my face.

At least it was better than getting turned into collateral damage during some superhero slugfest.

Yay, me.

But fear wasn't the only thing I felt.

Rage burned beneath the surface. Not just at the man who pulled the gun on me—but at my own helplessness.

How utterly incapable I had been.

He stood there, weapon in hand, and I couldn't do a damn thing.

That man? First on my hit list.

And he'd be the first to pay.

I had originally planned to explore the city more to unlock new missions.

But after that night? Priorities changed.

I needed to learn how to fight.

And Uncle Niko was the best option I had.

Military experience. A past in organized crime back in Liberty City. A GTA protagonist with an F+ grade to match.

There wasn't a better mentor I could find right now.

So, the next day, I went to him and asked him to train me.

Maybe he saw the conviction in my eyes because he didn't ask why. He just nodded and said one thing.

"I will not ask or stop what you want to do. You are a smart kid and old enough to fight your battles. But always remember—you are not alone. You have a family."

I nodded back seriously. More words weren't necessary.

For the last two weeks, I've been training under him.

I had to cut down on my part-time job just to make enough time for it.

But it was worth it.

Martial Arts (Novice)

You understand basic stances and strikes but lack real combat experience.

My Gamer's Body skill allows me to live life like a game character.

That includes grinding to learn skills.

And grinding, I did.

Night after night. Sweat, pain, exhaustion.

Finally, last night, after hours of relentless practice, the system acknowledged my efforts.

Just like when I unlocked Driving, knowledge flooded my mind.

Stances I had struggled to hold now felt natural.

Incorrect postures corrected themselves as my body adjusted.

Movements that once felt sluggish now had a sharpness to them.

It wasn't much.

But finally—finally—I had at least some form of self-defense in this unforgiving world.

No matter how small it was.

Of course, combat wasn't the only thing I was learning.

Thanks to my new mission, I needed to heal 100 people to complete it.

One problem—I'm not a doctor.

I have no healing powers, no magic, nothing.

So, my only option? Learn First Aid.

At first, I wasn't sure if it would even work.

But apparently, it did.

Even though my two uncles are no longer active in the criminal world, they still have old friends who visit occasionally.

One of them showed up with a knife wound on his arm.

He was lying low for a while, trying to disappear from the gang members chasing him.

His first aid method? A dirty cloth wrapped around the wound.

Genius.

I saw an opportunity.

I offered to patch him up, using him as a guinea pig. After some convincing, he reluctantly agreed.

My technique was rough, and I could tell he was wincing from my lack of experience.

But it worked.

Looks like the system doesn't care about quality—just results.

Good to know.

The man grunted his thanks, even though I knew my work was shit.

I still told him to get proper medical attention.

Not that it mattered—criminals don't just stroll into hospitals.

If they do? They get questions. Questions they don't want to answer.

So, what's the alternative?

Shady clinics hidden in dark alleys.

Illegal medical practitioners.

Or, learn how to fix yourself.

Few qualified doctors willingly treat criminals. The ones who do? Work for big gangs exclusively.

That makes independent doctors, the ones who patch up wounds without asking questions, extremely valuable.

And that house I dropped that guy off at in Hell's Kitchen?

That was probably one of them.

Maybe I'll check it out later.

If I feel like it.

For now, I had other priorities.

I checked the ride count on my system. It was my 46th ride.

Over the last two weeks, I'd barely managed 25 rides.

My schedule was a mess, and I had to balance combat training, first aid training, and trying not to get killed.

I exhaled, rolling my sore shoulders as I pulled onto the street.

Time to get back to work.

I reached the pickup spot, and my passenger stepped into the taxi.

She was covered from head to toe.

A hoodie that hung low over her forehead.

Big sunglasses shielding her eyes.

A mask pulled up from her top, covering everything up to her nose.

The rest of her face was hidden behind black hair.

Oh great. Another weirdo.

Whatever. I started driving toward the destination—a hotel in a shady part of the city.

Not suspicious at all.

She seemed deep in thought, so I didn't bother with small talk.

Some passengers love to talk. They spill all sorts of things, and you never know what useful information you might hear.

Others? Silent the whole ride.

I respect both kinds. As long as they pay.

Speaking of payment...

I glanced at the system tab to check the fare.

Fare: 0

Tip: 0

…Huh?

Must be my imagination. Maybe I was too tired from training.

I blinked and checked again.

Fare: 0

Tip: 0

Motherfucker.

I frowned and opened the taxi network app. The company's app showed the fare should be $22.

What the fuck?

My system shows different fares from the app. The app shows the standard fare and the system starts at the standard fare and starts reducing it if I empty my tip bar.

I know my driving is shit, but not so much that within 5 minutes of the ride, it will empty both bars. Even more so when I am already at the Apprentice stage in my Driving skill.

Hell, even when I didn't have the skill, it never decreased so fast. Moreover, despite the zero fare, she didn't complain at all, sitting in silence, thinking deeply.

Since it is unlikely the system made a mistake, it means only one thing.

This fucking bitch doesn't intend to pay me at all.

That was the only explanation.

My jaw tightened.

I wanted to slam the brakes, turn around, and call her out immediately.

But what was I going to say?

"Hey, I know you plan to rob me because my magical game system told me so, so get the fuck out of my car?"

Yeah. Not happening.

I exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the wheel.

Alright then. Let's see how this plays out.

Let's wait and watch.

Let's see how she plans to talk her way out of not paying me.

But you better be prepared, bitch.

There is no way in hell I'm letting my hard-earned money slide.

I glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

She was still silent, staring out the window—until she suddenly turned her head toward the rearview mirror.

I looked away, playing it cool. Focused on the road.

Then—

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

Pheromones?

Wait—Kara Killgrave?

As in Zebediah Killgrave's daughter?!

What the fuck is she doing in New York City?!

I immediately pulled up Observe.

Name: Kara Killgrave 

Status: E-

Power: Mind Control 

E- grade?!

Her power must be boosting her rank, because physically, she's probably not much stronger than me.

Wow. My first supernatural encounter. And she was trying to mind control me.

"I am just a normal passenger in your taxi, like your everyday passengers," Kara said in a low, calm voice.

Huh?

Is she…justifying that she's not suspicious?

Because that sounds like something a suspicious person would say.

Ah, I see. Kara is a mutant and inherited mind-controlling powers from her father to mind control using her pheromones and giving verbal commands.

She's probably hiding her purple skin under all that fabric.

She likely thought she hypnotized me using her pheromones.

Too bad for her. My Gamer's Mind makes me immune to any type of mind control.

At least, with that, I don't have to worry about becoming someone's unwilling or, even worse, willing puppet.

Puppets are only useful when they belong to me.

"You decided to give me a free ride," Kara continued smoothly.

Ah. So that's how this bitch plans to pay—mind control me into thinking I already agreed.

Interesting.

Even if she's one whole grade above me, that's only because of her powers.

Which, fortunately for me, and unfortunately for her…

They don't work on me.

"But I never said I would give you a free ride," I said, fighting the smirk creeping onto my face.

Kara stiffened.

Then—

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

She was pushing harder now.

I saw a hint of skin peeking out of her hoodie, turning a deep shade of purple.

Panic.

She realized something was wrong.

"Stop the car!" Kara snapped.

I kept driving.

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

Note: Kara Killgrave used her pheromones on you. Affect nullified.

She wasn't used to failing. I almost felt bad for her. Almost.

"I said stop the car, or I will call the cops!" she shouted.

I finally let the smirk breakthrough.

"Sure, go ahead. Call them.

I'm sure they'd love to find a mutant walking the streets openly."

She went dead silent.

— Kara —

I stepped into the taxi, settling into the backseat.

A hotel in a shady part of the city—the perfect place to stay low while I look for my man-whore of a father.

Mind control has its perks.

Getting a free ride? A small perk. But useful.

The driver was young, maybe around my age.

Good-looking, too.

If I was here for fun instead of tracking down that bastard, maybe I'd see if he was obedient enough to be entertaining.

But right now? I had bigger priorities.

Zebediah Killgrave.

The man who let my mother leave him and never once asked about her. Or his newborn daughter.

Fucking bastard.

Growing up, Mom told me she divorced him and moved to Canada.

I was born there, raised there, and for the longest time, I thought,

"What kind of weak, spineless husband lets his wife leave him pregnant and doesn't even fight for her?"

A cuck. That's what kind

Mom worked hard but barely supported us.

And despite all the men who came and went, I don't think she ever really got over him.

One rebound after another.

I lost count of how many sleazy assholes I saw in our home.

Life wasn't great, but it went on.

At least high school was easy. I was popular. People liked me.

By the end of it, I'd grown another five inches, my body filling out.

It was fun teasing the boys—watching how they squirmed when I leaned in just a little too close.

It was a game. A harmless one. And for a while, I thought that would be my life.

Then?

Everything changed.

At first, it was small. A weird tint to my skin. Almost like a shadow that wouldn't go away.

Then?

It got worse. Within days, my skin turned completely purple.

I locked myself in my room, terrified. Was it a disease? Some kind of sickness?

I begged my mother for answers. She didn't say a word.

She knew. She knew what was happening to me. And she stayed silent.

A few days later, my normal skin color returned.

I waited, watching. Terrified that it would happen again.

When it didn't, I forced myself to go back to school.

Mom? She sighed in relief. Like she was hoping it was over. Like she wanted to pretend it never happened.

But she was so wrong.

It happened at a party. One of those drunken, wild, typical high school parties. A jock cornered me in a room.

Okay, fine—I went in there knowing full well what would happen. In my defense, I thought he was cute.

But his personality leaked out once we were alone, away from prying eyes.

I tried to leave. He didn't let me. His hand braced against the wall next to my head.

The easygoing flirt vanished, replaced by something pushier, meaner.

"Oh, come on," he slurred, the alcohol thick on his breath.

I stiffened. Nope. Not doing this.

"Move." I tried to push past him. He grabbed my wrist.

Something in me snapped.

Heat surged through my veins—an intense, unnatural sensation.

And then—

His eyes widened. His grip loosened.

I barely had time to register his expression before I saw it—

His skin. It was turning purple. And through the mirror behind him? So was mine. I gasped.

"Let me go."

He immediately stepped aside. Not reluctantly. Not angrily. It was just like the most natural thing in the world.

A chill ran down my spine. I turned toward the mirror, horrified. My entire body had changed. I was purple. And him? The exact same shade.

I was breathing too fast, my pulse erratic. What the fuck is happening?! I wanted it to end.

Then, as if responding to my panic, the purple receded. My skin returned to normal, and his did, too.

He blinked, confused.

"Wait—" his words slurred, "How'd you get over there?" He lunged again.

I flinched—

And again, my skin turned purple. So did his. "Stop."

He froze.

I stared at him and ordered him to go to bed. He obeyed with no protest or resistance.

He just collapsed onto the mattress, fast asleep.

The moment his breathing evened out, I released whatever hold I had over him. We both returned to normal.

I bolted.

When I got home, I confronted my mother. She hesitated. For the first time in my life, I saw guilt in her eyes. And then she finally relented.

She told me the truth. Zebediah Killgrave. My father.

The man who let her leave.

The man who never once came looking for us.

The man who abandoned me.

I felt a storm of emotions.

Anger. At my mother, for leaving.

Rage. At my father, for never coming after us.

And yet, underneath it all…

A small, pathetic part of me wanted something else.

Wanted to prove myself. Not just to be different. To be better.

Because maybe, just maybe…

If I was better than him, stronger than him, more powerful than him—

He'd regret leaving me behind.

Somehow, I barely survived high school. I had to be constantly on guard, terrified I'd slip up and use my powers by mistake.

Because I refused—absolutely refused—

To end up hated, ostracized, or worse—locked away in some underground lab, treated like a test subject.

After high school, I wasn't in the mood for college. I had more important things to do. Like mastering my powers.

At first, I told myself I was using them for good. Proving that I was better than my father. That my abilities could help people instead of manipulating them. That even though he didn't know, I was fixing his mistakes.

Of course, sometimes I used them for myself—small things that could easily be considered payment for my services.

The real goal? Finding him. Tracking down the man who abandoned me.

It took months, but eventually, I had a lead. When I learned the truth, I saw red.

He never cared. Not about my mother. Not about me.

While we struggled, he was changing girlfriends every few days. Likely mind-controlling them to love him.

Leaving one woman after another.

Creating his criminal empire in New York City, living life without a single goddamn regret.

Fucking bastard.

Once I had a rough idea of his whereabouts, I left Canada and came to New York.

Money? Not a problem. It turns out that persuading people to give you things is incredibly easy.

That's how I crossed the border, found a place to stay, and booked my hotel. It wasn't fancy, but it was perfect—low-profile, fewer prying eyes. I'd be safe there.

While I was thinking, I felt it. A gaze. My driver. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, casual, smooth—but just a little too precise.

A normal look. A split-second thing. And yet—

Something felt off.

I narrowed my eyes slightly, shifting my posture.

Because of the angle, I couldn't see his face clearly, not even in the mirror.

But a woman's intuition is rarely wrong.

Was he suspicious of me?

I knew my outfit didn't scream "normal," but I dressed like this for a reason.

If my skin ever turned purple by accident—

Which happened less than before but still happened when I got too emotional—

At least this way, no one would notice.

Whatever.

I was going to use my powers anyway.

It didn't matter if I did it now or at the end of the trip.

A quick command, nothing noticeable.

I'd keep his skin purple for only a second—long enough to take effect but not long enough to raise suspicion.

Besides, there wasn't much traffic here.

With my powers, I can't make deep, long-lasting impressions. Once I remove control, the target is free, unless it's some special case like with the jock who remained sleeping even after I removed my control, the alcohol in his system probably played a part in that.

However, if the command is simple enough and not against the target's basic thought process, it could still work for some time. This is enough for the duration of the trip.

I used my pheromones on him. My skin turned purple, but it was not visible because of how I dressed.

"I am just a normal passenger in your taxi, like your everyday passengers," I ordered him to perceive me as just another normal passenger.

"You decided to give me a free ride," I continued. Can't forget the free ride part.

Done.

My skin returned to normal. I relaxed, shifting my gaze back to the window. And then—

"But I never said I would give you a free ride."

What? This has never happened before. Did the subconscious commands not work on him? Or did he resist the entire mind control?

I stiffened, swallowing my unease.

Whatever it is, I no longer want to stay in this taxi.

I used even more pheromones on him and ordered him to stop the car, but he behaved as if he hadn't listened and continued driving.

What is happening? Is he immune to my powers? Where is he taking me? Does he know about me? Is he my father's enemy and wants to use me against him?

My pulse quickened as beads of sweat formed on my temple. Panicked, I once again used my pheromones on him.

"I said stop the car, or I will call the cops," she threatened, hiding the panic in my voice.

"Sure, go ahead if you don't mind looking at your purple skin. I am sure they would love to find a mutant walking on the streets openly," he said.

What?!