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Chapter 6: Burglary 101
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 16:08:38 +0000 UTC“Hey, Kevin, have you heard? We’ve got a new superhero team in town,” Marko said, practically vibrating with excitement.
I glanced around the cafeteria. He wasn’t the only one hyped. Students were huddled in groups, eyes glued to their phones, animatedly discussing something. A few even wore cheap knockoff merchandise. Already? Damn, that was fast.
It’s been a week since my high-speed getaway. Some significant developments have happened since then.
Apparently, successfully completing a getaway driver job counted towards the Taxi Driver mission count. That's one more avenue to complete the mission quickly.
The only problem, I didn’t know where to find more jobs like that. Black Cat may be a good source for stable jobs, but currently, she is still sulking over our playful banter the other day.
Yes, Felicia, I could see you sneakily glaring at me while pretending to stir your drink. Acting like you didn’t want to chew my head off. Poor girl, she didn't even know I knew her secret identity.
Whatever, let’s forget about the sulking kitty and move on.
Second, I finished four more deliveries for Captain Corrupt. No rival gangs sniffing around, no cops breathing down my neck. Lucky me. Well, for now. I’m pretty sure my supply of luck is running dangerously low. Or maybe I was just born unlucky. Shit, that’d be worse.
Anyway. My Vigilante mission count increased to five.
No, I didn't let my successful escape from those gangsters get to my head and go out looking for trouble. Neither was I consumed by revenge against my oppressors. Nor did my recent experiences awaken some deep, brooding sense of justice. That sounds exhausting.
Instead, it happened as a result of our high-speed chase. During the chase, some gangsters in the cars apparently died in those violent crashes.
Who could’ve seen that coming?
The system did because their deaths counted toward my Vigilante mission progress.
Oh well. A happy coincidence for me, a fatal one for them. At least they were good for something.
Initially, I worried the cops might come after me. But—nothing. No knocks at my door, no patrol cars trailing me. Looks like the gang cleaned up their own mess. Not like they could exactly file a police report against me.
"Officer, we’d like to report that this taxi-driving lunatic murdered our guys during a high-speed chase."
Yeah. That’d go over well.
So, no cops. Just an entire gang of violent criminals who now wanted me dead.
Which, while absolutely terrifying, is still better than having law enforcement breathing down my neck. I could avoid thugs. I couldn’t avoid a city-wide manhunt. I was nowhere near powerful enough to slip through that net.
I didn't have to worry about the gang members attacking me openly in the brighter parts of the city, as they were also not big enough to disregard the law openly.
Because that’s what this world boils down to—power and influence.
Currently, I was a piss poor lad with less influence than a flea-covered street dog. If the cops arrested me today, that’s it—I was done. They’d lock me up, throw away the key, and move on with their day.
But if I had enough money and power to buy law enforcement, like those big players like Kingpin did, then law enforcement would be the easiest to evade.
People like Kingpin didn’t “evade” law enforcement. They owned it.
One day, I’d get there.
Yes, there were many above the law enforcement, some who couldn't be bought, but that's the problem for the future me.
But today? I had a deranged lunatic with a six-barrel shotgun—creatively named “Six-Barrel Shotgun” (because, of course, he did)—and a bunch of his psycho friends actively trying to murder me.
For what it's worth, at least, they were not the strongest gang after my life. Our dear, corrupted Robert Davis had a status to maintain as the police captain. Even if he decided to work together with gangs, he would choose those at least similar to his status. And Cockroach’s gang is far from that level. So, the gang with which our dear, corrupt fatty worked was a gang much larger and organised than Cockroach’s band of lunatics.
It could be considered a silver lining. Right?
Man, fuck my life. Barely a month in this world, and I was already on the chopping block.
Fuck Marvel.
At least someone was finally happy.
Peter Parker must’ve finally found Ben’s killer, meaning he’s officially out of his "tragic teen out for revenge" phase. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man should start popping up as a daily headline in the Daily Bugle any day now.
Meanwhile, Marko was still buzzing with excitement. “They call themselves the Avengers! How cool is that?” His eyes practically sparkled.
Yep. After the Fantastic Four, we now have our second official superhero team.
No, that purple maniac space tyrant hadn’t attacked yet. Yet. But an equally terrifying green monster full of overflowing rage did attack.
“I still don’t get it,” Marko muttered. “Why the hell would they let the Hulk join the team when he’s caused so much destruction? Shouldn’t they, I don’t know, lock him up?”
Honestly? Fair question.
The team formation was nothing grand like in the movies. The Avengers' formation roughly followed the comics' timeline.
Loki (that arrogant bastard) manipulated the Hulk into going on a rampage—probably because he was bored. This led Thor, Iron Man, Ant-Man, and Wasp to try (and fail) to stop him. Then, at some point, Thor realized Loki was behind the chaos, so they all teamed up to whoop the trickster’s ass instead.
Boom. Avengers assembled. That's how we got our second superhero team.
Of course, the general public had no clue about the Loki part. All they saw was Hulk smashing through everything like a sentient wrecking ball before the heroes miraculously “convinced” him to join their new team.
I knew because I had a front-row seat to the carnage.
It was like watching a Godzilla movie in 3D—except without the safety of a movie screen.
I witnessed the giant green rage-ball transform SUVs into origami, flip buses like he was playing with Hot Wheels, and reduce entire streets to rubble.
So yeah. If this is how the Avengers were starting out, I couldn’t wait to see what kind of shitstorm they’d cause next.
I summarized the rest after reviewing the limited news coverage of the fight.
Was I being too harsh on Hulk?
He only fought back because the superheroes misunderstood him and attacked him first. And in the end, he teamed up with them to stop Loki.
What a good person.
Maybe I’d even sympathize with the tragic green hero…
If he hadn’t nearly crushed me into a fucking pancake.
Yeah. Fuck that guy.
To be fair, I was kind of asking for it.
A superhero fight was happening so close, and my inner fanboy brain decided, “Hey! Let’s get a better view!” So, naturally, I drove way too close to the action.
Big mistake.
Because right when I thought I had the best seat in the house—
BOOM.
Hulk landed right beside my taxi.
The impact shattered the mirrors, and the force shook the entire car. I swear to OAA, my soul left my body for a moment.
For one brief, horrifying second, I thought I had died.
I was so close to the death door that I would have met Lady Death before Thanos or Deadpool.
Speaking of Thanos, since the attack on New York didn't happen, I still don't know what his current mindset is. Was he a self-proclaimed messiah fighting for the universe's future or a cosmic simp with a genocide kink?
Not that it mattered. Either way, he’s still planning to annihilate half the damn universe.
The only way that won’t happen is if Thanos just straight-up didn’t exist in this timeline.
…
Yeah, no. With my luck? That’s a damn pipe dream.
Sigh. Fuck Marvel.
Marko, completely misunderstanding my sigh, nodded. “So you agree they were wrong to include Hulk in the team?”
I just gave him a blank look. Sure, Marko. Whatever you say.
Then, he asked the real buzzing question among the common folk.
“Hey, do you think that Thor guy is actually a god?”
The question wasn’t unreasonable. Most people don’t immediately accept the idea that some muscle-bound hammer swinger is a deity. Most of them dismiss his claims outright, thinking he is a superpowered man with a god complex.
“Maybe he’s just an advanced alien,” I said, just to humor him.
Marko scoffed. “What? Aliens aren’t real. That’s just some conspiracy theory crap made up by nutjobs who think the government is hiding them in Area 51.”
“…”
I stared at him.
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it.
Because, honestly? I didn’t even have the heart to tell him how wrong he was on so many fucking levels.
“But why hide their faces?” Marko questioned, leaning forward as if he were earnestly trying to solve a mystery. “With their popularity, they could become instant celebrities.”
He moved on too quickly from the alien talk. Looks like he also bought into the general consensus about Thor.
“Not everyone’s like the Fantastic Four,” I said, shrugging. “They don’t care about revealing their identities. But some people prefer to separate their personal and superhero lives.”
After all, Iron Man, Ant-Man, and Wasp were all masked.
In the excitement of watching the fight up close, I even actually forgot to use my Observe skill on them, so I didn’t know their true identities.
I was sure Iron Man was Tony Stark. I mean, come on. The guy literally called himself Iron Man. It wasn’t some cheap rip-off name like "Ironheart".
But Ant-Man and Wasp? No clue.
Hank Pym? Scott Lang? Maybe that rogue S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, whose name I didn’t even remember, who got an Ant-Man suit? Could be any of them. Hell, it could be some random fourth guy.
It's the same deal with Wasp. Was it Janet Van Dyne, Hope Van Dyne, Nadia Van Dyne, or someone else entirely?
Maybe it was Hank Pym donning the Wasp suit.
...Actually, wait. Did both Hope and Nadia even exist in this world? Or just one? Or neither?
Too many questions. Zero answers.
Marko still didn’t look convinced. “Maybe,” he said, hesitantly.
“But still, it would’ve been a blast if the Fantastic Four had joined the fight.”
And then I saw it. The look. That stupid, pervy grin. Oh, this dumbass.
“Just admit it—you wanted to see Susan Storm,” I teased, smirking.
Marko immediately turned defensive. “Oh, come on. As if you don’t want to.”
I just shrugged, playing it cool. “Never said I didn’t.”
For a second, he looked at me, then grinned.
And just like that, we both started laughing, finishing up our lunch.
—
“What are you waiting for? Get in, quickly. Don’t make me regret calling you,” Black Cat snapped, motioning toward the vehicle before me.
As expected, the infamous hissy fit finally came to an end. It only took, what? Seven days? Damn, this kitty sure knew how to hold a grudge.
With a holier-than-thou attitude, she called me for a job, acting as if she were bestowing a favor by offering me an opportunity to showcase my driving skills.
Reality? She just needed a getaway driver for her latest heist.
This kitty was not only grudgeful but is also a tsundere.
You are walking a fine line here, kitty. Tsunderes can be either the most beloved or the most hated characters. Choose your actions wisely.
As for how she got my number, come on, we were from the same university; how difficult could it be for her to acquire it?
Not one to pass up an opportunity, I accepted her offer and arrived at the meet-up place an hour before midnight.
She was already sitting in the vehicle's passenger seat while glaring at me.
I can still feel my lips twitching as I watch the black vehicle before me.
Why? Because a fucking Black Boxville was in front of me.
What was it doing in Marvel? Why did Black Cat have it? When did she stop scaling rooftops to drive an armored van?
Felicia, you were breaking my immersion.
Oh, right, a correction. It would be me driving it.
I look at Black Cat’s face, which is becoming increasingly irritated as seconds pass by. With a tired sigh and a resigned look, I boarded the vehicle.
I just hoped driving it would not be as difficult as it was in the game. I was unsure if Adept-level Driving skills could help me with this.
So, where are we going?” I asked, eyeing the grumpy kitty beside me.
“Harlem,” Black Cat said casually.
“What?!” I shot her a look. “Just because you call yourself Black Cat, do you think you actually have nine lives or something?”
Did she think I didn’t have enough people already trying to kill me? Now she wanted me on another gang’s hit list?
“Stop being so dramatic. It’s just Harlem,” she waved off my concerns like I was overreacting.
"Just Harlem?" I repeated, incredulous. “You do remember last time, right? Or was that high-speed chase with armed thugs just a minor inconvenience?”
Felicia sighed, exasperated. “Relax. This time, I did my research. I know the layout. I know the security. What happened before? Won’t happen again.”
Sure. And I’m the King of Wakanda.
Logically, I should not believe her words. I should laugh in her face and walk away.
And I didn't believe her. Not for a second. In this world, for now, I only believe in myself.
I could walk away from here, from the danger. However, that would mean walking away from Black Cat forever, a valuable asset for my future plans.
Whether I agreed or not, I would still be a delivery mule. At the same time, I would live in fear that someday, someone from Cockroach’s gang would track me down and kill me. Or maybe the corrupt cop or his gang buddies would finally have no more use for me, and they would bury me with their secrets.
If I agree, I would take a risk. A risk to get a chance to break the status quo. An opportunity to start my crawl to claw my way to the top.
Risk is in everything, but risk and reward coexist.
A businessman risks his investment.
A criminal risks his freedom.
A politician risks his reputation.
A gambler risks everything.
A risk can make or break a man. A successful risk can push a man to the high heavens, while a failure can damn him to the ninth hell.
But it is a fact that all great men reached their position by taking risks. Unless everything is served to you on a golden platter, taking risks is necessary to achieve your dreams, become what you desire, and earn what you deserve.
Sigh.
I was sighing too much lately.
“Fine. Let's go,” I accepted.
Did I accept because I believed in Black Cat? No.
Was it a logical choice? Hell no.
But sometimes logic had to go on a vacation to make room for risk.
“Took you long enough to agree,” Black Cat grumbled while crossing her arms. However, I could see a slight smile that flickered briefly when I agreed to her proposal.
“And wear this,” Black Cat continued as she tossed me a mask.
It was a black ski mask. When I saw Boxville, I knew something was missing; now, I knew what it was.
Donning the mask, I look at my face in the rearview mirror.
A man wearing a black balaclava and a woman in black tights with her eyes covered by a mask. Yep, we definitely look like criminals.
Is she sure the cops won't arrest us before we even reach our destination?
—
Never thought I would be back here so soon.
Standing in the dead silence of Harlem’s streets, I kept my eyes on Black Cat as she worked the lock. The Boxville loomed behind us, looking suspicious as hell with its back doors hanging open.
It screamed, "Hey, cops, look at me!" but hey, maybe Harlem was used to worse.
"So, who’s the unlucky bastard this time?" I whispered, more to pass the time than out of actual concern.
“No one in particular. A small gang member in Mr. Fish’s gang,” Black Cat whispered while still focusing on the lock.
I blinked. My brain short-circuited for a second.
Mr. Fish?
Ok, deep breaths.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
My eye twitched as I swallowed the urge to curse her past nine generations.
“Do you have a vendetta against Harlem’s gangs? First, Cockroach, now, Mr. Fish,” I whispered, irritated.
Yes, I knew Mr. Fish was just a pathetic excuse of a gangster, and in extension, his gang members, who were all laughed at by the other gangs in Harlem. However, that’s when compared to other gangs or superheroes who dealt with them daily. For normal people, he was still a dangerous criminal.
Black Cat smirked but didn’t take her eyes off the lock. "Relax. The gang had a party, so the place is empty. Perfect time to sweep it clean."
Click. The lock gave way, and she pushed the door open like she owned the place.
I finally see the Black Cat in action. Her stealth skills couldn’t match her peak, but they still should be around Adept-level. On the other hand, I had to take each step carefully so as not to make any noise.
As we arrive in the living room, we see three thugs passed out on the sofa and the floor with alcohol bottles littered everywhere and enough cocaine on the table to make Tony Montana proud.
I turned to give her an accusatory look, and she merely shrugged. Such audacity.
"So what now?" I asked through gritted teeth. I was already this deep. No way I was leaving empty-handed.
Felicia flashed me a “That’s a good boy” look, which only sped up my blood pressure.
"Now," she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement, "we take everything valuable and load it into the truck. Simple. You grab the electronics and appliances. I’ll go for the cash and jewelry.” She winked and slinked toward the bedrooms.
Oh great. So now I was the getaway driver and the hired muscle. Fucking fantastic.
Oh well. Let’s start the back-breaking work.
I started with a pain in the ass, the television. A 43-inch flat screen stared back at me. I yanked the cord out, took a deep breath, and lifted.
Holy hell. It was heavier than I had expected, and my arms immediately began to protest. I moved at a snail’s pace, carefully balancing it like a bomb that would explode if I tripped.
I could see the outline of a gun on the waist of two of the thugs, and I didn’t want to know what they could do with it if they woke up from the noise.
The sheer effort of not dropping it made my legs tremble slightly. Each step felt like it took a year.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached the truck and carefully placed it inside. One down. Didn’t know how many more to go.
For the next half hour, I slowly packed everything of value into the van: microwaves, home theater systems, laptops, mobile phones that the thugs had not kept on their persons after removing their SIM cards, home appliances, and so on. I was thankful to the thugs for being out cold, which let me pull off my first burglary job relatively easily. Black Cat also helped with some lighter items to speed up the job.
I peeked into the kitchen, eyeing the fridge. Hmm… worth it? I tugged at it—nope. Way too heavy for one person. Let’s not tempt fate.
“You done?” Black Cat whispered as she appeared in the living room from the hallway at the same time.
“Yep, just the main bedroom remaining,” I whispered.
“Mine too. Let’s go together,” Black Cat whispered.
Maybe I became a bit too comfortable because everything felt so easy that I knocked over an empty alcohol bottle lying on the floor by mistake.
“Huh,” a thug opened his eyes and muttered groggily, "Hey… Jimmy… you still drinking?"
I dropped behind the couch, Felicia doing the same. She shot me a glare. I gave her a "whoops" look.
The thug scratched his head, blinking at the half-empty room.
"...Man… this new shit is good," he slurred, taking a lazy swig from a beer bottle lying beside him. "I’m so tripping, I swear half the stuff in this place is just… gone."
Felicia and I didn’t move a muscle.
Please go back to sleep. Please go back to sleep.
The thug let out a long yawn and then slumped back against the couch, snoring.
I exhaled slowly, releasing a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.
Felicia shot me a look. Be careful this time, idiot. I gave a mock salute.
She just rolled her eyes and slinked toward the bedroom. I followed close behind, placing each step as carefully as walking in a landmine field.
We slipped inside the main bedroom. Inside, another thug was sleeping on the bed, snoring loudly, with a woman, likely a prostitute, with the amount of glitter on her face and skin, both equally naked. The room reeked of alcohol and cocaine, the floor littered with empty bottles. Considering that he got both the bed and the girl, he should be higher in the gang than the thugs outside.
I groaned as I saw another television. Ugh, let’s hope my back won't give up on me. Black Cat, meanwhile, looked for any hidden stashes in the room.
I came back after loading the television. Black Cat found the stash location. It was a safe in the cupboard. I scanned the room one last time, looking for anything small but valuable. Nothing worth the effort.
With nothing else to do, I leaned against the wall and watched Felicia work. Her hands were steady, and her fingers moved with experienced precision.
As she tried to open the safe with a lockpick, it suddenly made a clanging noise.
The thug's snores stopped suddenly, but he didn’t get up. We watched him with bated breath; my hand was dangerously close to the vase on the side table.
Fortunately, he started snoring again a few seconds later. We both sighed in relief at that.
Black Cat returned to open the lock. Soon, she opened it and quickly filled her duffel bag with cash and jewelry. After she was done, we left quickly, making as little noise as possible.
We got in the Boxville, and I drove away fast. No one spoke the entire way, and we looked in the rearview and side mirrors to see if any cars were following us.
Finally, we reached the lock-up where the Boxville was kept and exited after parking it inside.
We came out together and saw each other. And then we laughed. Hard.
“Not bad for your first job, rookie,” Black Cat praised.
“I will not say I had a good teacher,” I replied playfully.
“You little,” Black Cat said, playfully punching my arm.
“I know a fence. I will sell the stuff as soon as possible, and then we can split the money. How about a 30% cut?” Black Cat asked.
“Sure, good for me,” I said easily.
Was I worried that she might run away with my cash? Not really.
If she were to really do that, I knew where to find her.
When Black Cat heard that, she smiled, pleased. Then, her smile turned flirtatious, and she moved gracefully toward me like a cat.
“How about I give you a little reward in advance for the good job you did?” Black Cat asked, her body mere millimeters away from me.
“Oh, what reward?” I asked with a smile.
She didn’t say anything and directly locked lips with me. The kiss soon became heated as our tongues battled for dominance. My hands were on her hips as I groped them harshly while her hands were behind my head, pulling my head in.
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and so did our kiss.
“Goodbye, rookie, till we meet again,” Black Cat said as she smiled seductively and turned around.
She left, her hips swaying more than usual, intentionally. I watch her swaying backside moving rhythmically.
Yep, I would tap that ass very soon.
