The chime sounded inside Dazai's head before daylight reached the motel room.
He rolled toward the wall and pulled the pillow over his ear.
It chimed again.
"Truly," he said into the pillow, "there must be kinder ways to torment someone."
He sat up. His black coat had spent the night twisted beneath him, and one sleeve bore the imprint of the bedspread. He smoothed it absently while the blue screen opened before his left eye.
[ DAILY QUEST: PHYSICAL CONDITIONING ]
Complete 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10 km run within 24 hours.
Reward: 2 Attribute Points, 100 System Points, Shop Unlock Progress 2/3.
Penalty for failure: Four-hour survival scenario in the Manhattan sewers.
"The same one?"
Dazai waited for the words to change. They did not.
He stood, drew back a dusty blind, and looked down at the alley. A delivery driver was arguing with someone outside the building opposite. The driver would finish his argument, make his deliveries, and go home. Dazai envied the certainty of his schedule.
A glance at his status confirmed he still had the hundred points from yesterday. Another day's exercise would bring him to two hundred. The Shop remained locked, but the progress indicator promised to open it after a third completed quest.
Promises from a mysterious screen deserved very little trust. He was curious anyway.
In the motel bathroom, the tap ran brown for two seconds before clearing. Dazai washed his face, retied the bandage at his wrist, and attempted to make his hair presentable. Then he went out to run.
His legs remembered the previous night even if they no longer hurt. He started slowly, following streets where he could keep moving without crossing too much traffic. The distance counter appeared at the edge of his vision. Dazai paid it as little attention as possible.
Hell's Kitchen looked different in the morning. Shopkeepers lifted shutters. Workers carried coffee around construction barriers. A woman outside a laundromat swept broken glass into a dustpan while two neighbors discussed whose window would be next.
Dazai listened as he passed.
People here lowered their voices when they said Fisk. Outside a café, two men complained about trouble at the docks and glanced over their shoulders before one of them mentioned Daredevil. Farther on, an argument over a missing shipment ended when a third man said the Maggia would come asking questions.
The names were useful. Their connections were less clear.
Dazai had run criminal operations himself. A few overheard remarks could give him a place to begin, but not a reliable map. Men lied about who employed them. Frightened people used the biggest name they knew. And the men discussing a shipment at nine in the morning were unlikely to know who truly owned it.
Still, the red-suited man from the alley had a name now.
"Daredevil," Dazai murmured. "You could have told me."
The distance counter passed eight kilometers. Dazai's breathing was steady enough to keep running, though he had begun to resent every traffic light. His new stamina helped. It had not made ten kilometers short.
At the next intersection, a boy of perhaps thirteen came running out of a convenience store with a loaf of bread under his jacket. The owner shouted after him. The boy nearly collided with Dazai, caught his balance, and fled.
Dazai watched him go.
The owner stopped at the curb. He was too winded to give chase, and Dazai had another two kilometers to cover. Neither moved for a moment.
Then Dazai went into the store, took some cash from his pocket, and set it on the counter.
"For the bread," he said.
The owner stared at him. "You know that kid?"
"No."
"That's too much."
"Then keep the change."
Dazai left before the man could argue. He told himself it was simpler than listening to more shouting on his route.
He finished the run beside an alley a few blocks from the park. With his hands on his knees, he waited for his breath to slow. The screen marked the distance complete and reminded him of the exercises he had left.
"Of course I remember," he said.
He had forgotten his coat on no bench this time; it was still on his shoulders. He made his way back to the park, laid it neatly beside him, and started the push-ups.
A few people looked. One stopped to ask whether he was training for something.
"A regrettable obligation," Dazai replied.
The man nodded as if that explained everything and went on.
The exercises took most of the afternoon. His arms shook less than they had the night before, but the last twenty squats were still miserable. When the counter accepted the hundredth, Dazai sat on the grass and waited for the chime.
[ DAILY QUEST COMPLETED ]
[ REWARDS: 2 ATTRIBUTE POINTS, 100 SYSTEM POINTS ]
[ SHOP UNLOCK PROGRESS: 2/3 ]
[ TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 200 ]
He put both points into Stamina.
[ STAMINA: 12 → 14 ]
The familiar warmth eased his tired muscles. Dazai flexed his hands, then stood and picked up his coat. The effect was convenient. He wondered what the system would ask once it had made exercise easy.
Across the East River, Peter Parker had less than fifteen minutes before he needed to leave for school.
He stood in front of his mirror, attempting to flatten a section of hair that sprang up again whenever he let go. His backpack was open on the floor, and the field-trip permission slip he'd spent ten minutes searching for was tucked safely inside it.
"Peter!" Aunt May called from downstairs. "Gwen's here!"
"I'm coming!"
He gave up on his hair.
Gwen Stacy stood in the kitchen with a folder under one arm. She was talking to May about the Oscorp trip, explaining an exhibit she hoped the class would be allowed to see. May listened with the earnest interest she brought to any conversation Peter's friends started in her house.
"You made notes?" Peter asked.
"Some of us like to know what we're looking at."
"I know what I'm looking at. It's Oscorp."
"That's the building," Gwen said. "Good start."
May passed Peter a piece of toast on his way out. He took it, kissed her cheek, and followed Gwen down the front steps.
At Midtown High, the bus was already loading. Mary Jane Watson waved from beside it.
"Parker! Tell me you remembered the permission slip."
Peter patted his backpack. "For once."
"Witnesses," Mary Jane told Gwen. "We have witnesses."
Peter grinned as he climbed onto the bus after them. He'd been trying to get a place on this trip since it was announced. Oscorp employed researchers whose papers he had read on a borrowed library computer; today, he might actually get to ask one of them a question.
At the Oscorp facility, well beyond the route approved for visiting students, a technician noticed an irregular reading on a bio-containment unit. The door was closed. The seal indicator still glowed green.
He made a note to inspect it after the morning briefing.
Above the enclosure, a small spider moved along a cable tray and vanished into a narrow gap in the wall. A second followed a few minutes later.
Dazai stopped at a food cart on his way back to the motel. The vendor put a hot dog in his hand and watched as he studied it.
"First time?" the vendor asked.
"In this city."
"Mustard?"
Dazai considered. "Why not?"
He ate as he walked. At the corner, he could see the park bench where he had first opened the system's screen. Nothing about it looked remarkable in daylight. People sat there carrying bags and talking on their phones, unaware of the negotiations he'd conducted with a glowing rectangle.
A police car went by. Above it, high against the clear sky, something glinted too briefly for Dazai to identify.
He stopped trying to follow it. New York had plenty of things in the air.
Tomorrow, the Shop might open. Tonight, he had a room, some money, and more names to investigate than he'd had that morning. He headed toward the Royal Inn, leaving the bench to its other visitors.