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Chapter 10: First Aid and Second Intentions
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 16:10:18 +0000 UTCYesterday was a fucking rollercoaster.
In a single day, delivering a package for a crooked cop, trading injury with street thugs, staring death in the eyes—death dressed in purple, no less—barely escaping her, then, like a total genius, going back on a date with said purple death… while looking like I lost a fight with a blender.
Yeah. Exhausting.
Good thing I’ve got that sweet [Gamer’s Body] skill. One solid sleep and boom—
Injuries? Gone.
Mind? Sharp.
Mood? Debatable.
But at least I wasn’t looking like a train wreck.
I didn’t have any classes this morning, so I figured I’d pick up a few taxi fares and earn some extra cash. While waiting for the next ride to appear in the app, I started flipping through the radio channels. The current playlist sounded like it was curated by a sleepy intern.
And that’s when I landed on her.
“Well, looks like somebody didn’t like the new kids on the block.”
“The city woke up to the smell of blood, regret, and bad tattoos this morning after an entire gang got turned into meat confetti.”
“Bodies in the alley, bodies in the hideout… basically, if you were wearing the wrong jacket last night, you’re now part of the city’s compost.”
“No suspects. No evidence. No motive. Just a pile of corpses and enough blood to start a vampire nightclub.”
“Cops say it looks ‘personal.’ Yeah, thanks, Detective Obvious.”
“No word yet on who did it, but whoever it was didn’t just send a message—they mailed it express with a steel fist and zero chill.”
“Locals say the gang was ‘new on the scene.’ Guess what? They’re not anymore.”
“So if you’re a wannabe crime boss thinking of making a name for yourself, here’s a fun idea—don’t. This city churns out new gangs faster than it consumes mayoral candidates.”
“This is Jenna Volt, Channel 7 and a Half—reminding you that in this town, anonymity is the only thing keeping your spine inside your body.”
Damn. Someone clearly skipped her decaf this morning.
And it looked like the cops finally stumbled onto Jessica’s little evening workout. But in a neighborhood with barely any cameras and way too many gangbangers, I doubted they'd ever pin it on her. Not unless she handed them a selfie holding a bloodstained “I did it” sign.
RING RING
Just as I was processing the gore-drenched news report, my phone started ringing. The name flashing on the screen made me grimace as if I’d just bitten into a lemon soaked in sewer water.
I sucked in a breath and slapped on my best customer service voice—if customer service meant talking to a corrupt asshole whom I couldn't punch.
“Good morning, Captain Davis. How may I help you on this pleasant morning?” I asked with a fake, pleasant voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You look like you are in a good mood, Mr. Kolt. I wonder, is it because you opened the package to look inside?” Robert accused.
“Yeah, no. I value my life more than my curiosity,” I replied flatly.
“Oh? Funny thing—the client told me the package was cut open. Papers everywhere. I’m sure you wouldn’t know anything about that… right?” he baited.
Papers. Not drugs. Baiting me, seeing if I’d correct him, maybe slip. Cute move.
Did he think I was dumb enough to say “drugs” out loud?
“Dude, my job’s to deliver, not babysit the drop. I left it untouched and walked. If someone played Dora the Explorer after that, it wasn’t me,” I replied, my tone growing sharper.
“Maybe you checked it after the drop. Figured that way no one would suspect you,” he suggested, voice smooth like a blade.
“If you want to grill me, at least come up with a good theory. If I wanted to snoop, I’d at least not be dumb enough to leave the contents strewn across the floor,” I sighed. “Come on, Robert.”
“That is true. You don’t look like the type who would make such a low-level mistake,” Robert easily accepted, but continued the prodding, “Then, did you meet anyone else at the location while delivering the package?”
Huh. So now you were finally asking what you wanted to ask.
You must be wondering how I escaped from those gang members.
Was that a test of how I would deal with those gang members, or was I reaching the end of my usefulness that his ‘associates’ had started looking for ways to dispose of me?
“No, I didn’t,” I lied with a straight face. “Was I supposed to give them a handshake and a selfie? I just dropped the package and got the hell out of that place. It looked shady as hell.”
There was a pause. Heavy. Calculating. I pictured him on the other end, weighing my tone, looking for cracks.
“Very well, Mr. Kolt,” he said at last. “I’ll be in touch soon with the next delivery.”
Click. He disconnected the call.
“…Motherfucker.”
Empire State University, Cafeteria, Lunch Break:
The cafeteria was buzzing with heated discussions. The topic was consistent—Spider-Man’s first defeat.
Apparently, he had his first fight against a supervillain, which ended up spectacularly with getting his ass handed to him.
“Hey, Kevin, do you think Spider-Man will win next time he fights Vulture?” Marko asked while eating his lunch. He looked let down that his new favorite superhero lost so easily.
Yep, one of the iconic Spider-Man villains finally showed up. Vulture had been targeting banks, large shops, and other establishments for the past few days. The Wing Harness he created granted him flight and increased strength. Law enforcement tried hard to catch him, but due to his aerial advantage, no one was able to catch up to him.
Finally, during his heist yesterday, he met the friendly neighborhood spidey. But to the sheer disappointment of his fans, the wall-crawler lost the fight.
Vulture fled after that.
“Spider-Man is only experienced in fighting thugs on the ground, not some guy who can literally fly. He was just not ready for the fight and was caught off guard. But I am sure he can come up with a solution to defeat him,” I reassured.
Marko nodded, looking deep in thought after my words.
Speaking of coming up with a solution, I turned towards the superhero in question.
He was sitting at his usual table with his lady friends. He tried to behave normally while talking to them, but I could see he was scribbling something furiously on his notebook, likely designing some device to help him with his next fight against Vulture. After all, spider powers or not, his brain was still one of his best weapons.
Vulture was a mere small fry compared to some of the greatest Marvel villains. He wouldn’t take too much effort to be defeated. Maybe once he joined the Sinister Six, then perhaps he would be worth some effort.
We soon finished our lunch, and the break was nearly over.
Suddenly, Marko looked toward me as if he finally couldn’t hold it in and asked what he was trying to for the entire lunch break.
Yes, I noticed he wanted to ask something. He fidgeted the whole time. I also didn’t push; he would ask when he was ready.
“Dude, I don’t swing that way. If that’s what you wanted to ask,” I joked with a serious face to lighten the mood.
He nearly choked. “Fuck you. I don’t either.”
But his shoulders relaxed. Tension gone. He let out a sigh and finally asked:
“Kevin… can I borrow $500?”
“Sure,” I said and passed him the money from my wallet. I earned a good amount of money from my various heists. $500 was no problem. Moreover, his family was extremely helpful to me. It was the least I could do for them.
Marko looked at me with wide eyes as I handed the money to me. He seemed to have prepared an extensive script to convince me to give him the money, but now it all went down the drain.
“Th-thanks, man. I promise I will return it as soon as possible,” he said, looking grateful.
“Whatever,” I shrugged. “Do what you want.”
—
I waited near a busy street, engine humming, watching the city move like a living beast. Neon lights. People laughing. Music spilling from nearby shops.
It was already past 8 PM. A couple more fares, and I’d call it a night.
The streets here were loud, alive, safe. Not like the darker corners of the city, where flickering streetlamps, barking dogs, and lurking shadows were all part of the charm. You could tell what kind of place it was by how many people pretended not to see things.
My next passenger arrived about two minutes later.
Denim jeans, black tank top, simple flats. No designer flash or over-the-top makeup. Just clean, confident style. Her curves were noticeable, sure—but tastefully wrapped. Her long black hair fell like midnight silk down her back.
May Parker.
Well, well. What a convenient coincidence.
When I saw the name May Parker in the taxi network app, it caught my eye – but I knew there was a good chance she was just another person with the same name.
I’d marked her as a target for later, but hey, no harm in building some early goodwill.
Rapport today, leverage tomorrow.
“Hi,” she greeted with a warm smile as she slid into the backseat.
“Hey,” I replied, matching her tone, and pulled into traffic.
A soft ping echoed in my head as a translucent map appeared at the bottom left of my vision. A glowing route traced through the city toward her house, and markers lit up on the road ahead.
That’d be my shiny new [Navigation Module], an upgrade to the [Map] screen. Handy as hell.
Getting it, though? Still pissed about that.
Turns out there was a hidden objective in the [Taxi Driver] mission—complete a hundred rides without a single screw-up. Not impossible… but it was the kind of detail the system conveniently forgot to mention until after you’ve stumbled into it.
Had I failed even once, I’d have still completed the mission, but missed this bonus entirely. Luckily, I ran clean.
Before, the map was little more than fog and memory. Sure, it uncovered areas I’d visited, but there were no routes, no markers—nothing useful except for a glorified mental breadcrumb trail.
Now? The [Navigation Module] gave me dynamic, real-time routing to any marked destination. Fastest path. Live adjustments if I took a detour. Context-aware, too—it didn’t just pick the shortest road; it decided the best one for my current ride: car, bike, or on foot.
For now, it marked May’s home.
"You heading home from work or just done saving the world?" I asked, glancing in the mirror with a polite smile.
She laughed lightly. “Just wrapped up some errands. Long day.”
“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said, easing the car into traffic. “Juggling college and driving cabs isn’t exactly a dream schedule.”
That got her attention.
“Oh? Which college?”
“Empire State. Computer Science.”
Her eyes lit up. I already knew what was coming.
“Really? My nephew studies there too! He’s in the Science Department.”
Bingo.
“No kidding? Small world. Who’s the lucky genius?”
“Peter Parker.”
She smiled, and it wasn’t just polite—it was the kind of smile that carried weight. Pride. Attachment.
Time to cash in.
“You’re Peter’s aunt? That’s awesome. I’m a big fan of the guy—seriously. Smartest kid in our year. He’s on a whole different level.”
Her smile grew, and I watched the way her posture softened, shoulders dropping just a bit like she'd exhaled something she'd been holding in.
She chuckled, trying to downplay it, but yeah—she was glowing.
“That’s kind of you. He doesn’t really talk much about school, so I’m always in the dark about how he’s doing socially.”
“Oh, he’s quiet, sure. But I tell you, the dude’s a machine. I saw him easily solve a lab problem once that had the TAs sweating.”
I laughed, just a little. Like, I was genuinely in awe.
To be fair, I kind of was. Peter was the kind of genius you wouldn’t underestimate.
“You seem like a smart one, too,” May said, her voice turning warmer. “Balancing ESU and work like this? That’s impressive. Shows maturity.”
She smiled at me in the mirror, gentle and sincere. “Your parents must be proud. You’ve clearly worked hard for what you have.”
And just like that… she handed me the dagger.
The smile slipped off my face like wet paint.
“Maybe,” I said, voice soft and just a little cracked. “If they’re watching from above.”
I smiled. Not a warm smile. The kind that made people uncomfortable. As if I were trying to hide something ugly underneath.
Her expression faltered instantly. Eyes wide. The horror on her face as it screamed, “shit, I fucked up.” Her entire body tensed like she’d stepped on emotional glass.
She opened her mouth, probably to say something comforting or backpedal—
And that’s when a high-pitched whine cut through the air, followed by something slicing through the sky overhead.
Look! Up in the sky!
It’s a bird!
It’s a plane!
No, it’s a bald old man with half his foot in the grave with fake mechanical wings!
And right behind him? Our friendly neighborhood nerd in spandex, swinging between buildings like a caffeinated circus act.
Vulture and Spider-Man. Fighting right here. Right now.
How convenient.
Whatever May had been about to say? Dead in the water. Let her sit with the guilt a little longer.
I kept driving as casually as I could while the world above us turned into a Michael Bay montage. Neither of us spoke, but the silence was full of glances. May kept stealing looks at me—lips tight, like she wanted to say something but didn’t know where to begin.
Then the traffic stopped cold.
Spidey had finally caught up, and the two started throwing punches mid-air, drawing everyone out of their cars like moths to a demolition site. Phones were up. Cameras rolling. No one was giving a single shit about flying fists or falling bricks. They were more interested in the views and likes they would receive on their LifeDestroyer profile when they uploaded the second face-off between Spider-Man and Vulture.
Gotta love this city.
Superpowered brawls weren’t like comic panels or Saturday morning cartoons. It was chaos. Loud. Violent. Full of ricocheting death.
Case in point: Vulture swooped low and slammed into Spider-Man, launching him into a building. The wall cracked, debris rained down, and even though Spidey tried to swing the biggest chunks away with his webbing, some still hit the crowd.
Screams. Dust. Blood.
And that was just the warm-up.
Vulture grabbed a streetlight pole, swung it like a baseball bat, and nearly took Spidey’s head off. He missed but smashed into the weakened wall, bringing more rubble down.
Spider-Man dodged the follow-up—some flying pole attack—and saved a trio of gawkers just before they became pavement jelly. He retaliated fast, webbing Vulture’s arm to his side, but the old bird just powered upward and broke free.
Then came the dive bomb. Again.
I didn’t need to watch the rest to know where it was heading. Spidey was adapting—looking for a window to use that little gadget he’d been designing earlier.
Meanwhile, I looked around.
Dozens of injured people. Screams. Panic.
I smirked to myself.
Finally.
Time to cash in on that [First Aid] skill.
The kit was already stashed in the glove box. I had no plans to leave without scoring my first milestone for the [Paramedic] mission.
Let the hero save the day. I’d settle for completing a few objectives while pretending to care.
I grabbed the first aid kit and stepped out of the taxi.
“Wait, where are—” May started, confused and concerned.
Didn’t bother answering. I was already moving.
First target: a guy sitting on the curb, clutching his bleeding arm. A shard of glass had opened him up—lucky bastard could’ve lost the whole thing.
“Let me take a look,” I said, kneeling beside him.
He looked ready to protest, but when he saw the kit and the way I wasn’t asking for permission, he just nodded, still skeptical.
With [First Aid (Novice)] kicking in, my hands didn’t fumble. I cleaned and dressed the wound like I knew exactly what I was doing—because technically, I did.
“Thanks,” he said, genuinely.
“Just doing my part,” I replied with a smile that looked selfless but wasn't.
May had shown up halfway through, her expression caught between admiration and worry. I ignored her and moved to the next one—a kid with a twisted ankle.
One patient after another. Sprains, cuts, bruises. The low-hanging fruit of emergency medicine. The mission counter ticked up each time.
May helped too—passing supplies, calming people, doing her best. We didn’t talk about earlier. Just stayed focused, played heroes. Well, she did. I was farming progress.
For the more serious injuries—shattered ribs, head trauma—I could only stabilize what I could. Slow the bleeding. Drag them out of the smoke. My skill wasn’t enough yet.
The mission counter stayed still for each of those.
“Watch out!” I shouted as I saw debris start to fall.
I grabbed May and pulled her aside just before broken glass and metal hit where she’d been standing.
She froze, wide-eyed. Shock creeping in.
“May. Hey—look at me. You’re okay. Just breathe,” I said, my voice calm and steady.
She blinked at me, trying to steady her breath. “Thanks, uh…” She trailed off, clearly realizing she still didn’t know my name.
“Kevin,” I said with a small smile.
“Thanks, Kevin,” she laughed nervously. “I’m May.”
“Yeah, I know. Already saw it in the taxi app.” I winked.
She laughed again, softer this time. That little moment helped her reset.
We went back to work—helping the able, avoiding the reckless. I made sure not to get too close to the fight. I wasn’t suicidal. A flying wing or broken glass could cut me up like paper.
Most people were too busy filming the cape brawl to notice me treating the wounded. But a couple did.
I had no interest in being famous or being known as a hero. Currently, I couldn’t handle such heat, and it would have been detrimental to my future actions.
Two different phones caught me in the act.
I walked over to one of them. “Mind deleting that for me?” I asked politely.
The girl blinked, nodded, and erased it on the spot. Easy.
The second one? Not so cooperative.
“Dude, it’s a free country.” He said arrogantly.
I sighed, snatched his phone, deleted the footage, and casually tossed it down the street.
He screamed and ran after it, swearing the whole way.
That was fun.
