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Chapter 2: Quirky Passengers
🕑 Added 2025-07-21 16:05:01 +0000 UTCOh sure, now I find out I have a system. Because obviously, my first instinct after waking up in a strange world should’ve been, ‘Hey, let’s check my invisible game menu.’
I leaned back in the driver’s seat, examining what I was dealing with. The system wasn’t sentient—no annoying AI companion talking in my head. That was a relief. My mind only has room for one voice, and that’s mine.
The name? The Gamer System.
It basically lets me live like a video game character. Missions like the Taxi Driver mission from earlier pop up, giving me ways to get stronger quickly.
At first, I didn’t like the idea of being pushed into tasks like some NPC following a questline. But turns out I was worried for nothing. Missions aren’t mandatory. I can ignore them or pick the ones that benefit me. No forced servitude—just opportunities.
The system had some pages: one showing the current missions and the other showing my status. Another showed the map, except most of it was covered in fog, revealing only where I’d been since regaining my memories.
I clicked on Status, expecting something decent.
What I got made me want to curse this world all over again.
Name: Kevin Kolt
Tier: F1
Attributes:
Strength: F1
Agility: F1
Constitution: F1
Endurance: F1
Vitality: F1
Intelligence: F2
Wisdom: F2
Perception: F2
Willpower: F3
Charisma: F1
Skills:
Gamer’s Mind (Max) [Passive]: This ability keeps the user calm in all situations and grants immunity to psychological status effects and mental powers.
Gamer’s Body (Max) [Passive]: Allows the user to live their life as a game character.
Observe (Max) [Active]: Can observe the status of anyone.
Okay, I get it. I’m a weak, squishy human. No need to rub it in.
The only thing above rock bottom was my Willpower. Great. So I could endure my own pathetic stats without having a breakdown. How reassuring.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. Alright. Fine. I’ll work with what I’ve got. But this is going to change. Fast.
The tier system was simple enough. The stats were divided into major grades, ranging from F to A, then S, SS, SSS, and EX. Each is further divided into three subgrades, numbered 1 to 3, except for EX. The F grade is for humans. The F1 subgrade represents the average human, the F2 subgrade represents stronger, trained individuals such as athletes or soldiers, and the F3 subgrade represents the pinnacle of human capabilities. Starting from the E grade is already superhuman.
In short? I was completely useless.
Fantastic.
Forget it. Let’s think about good things, like the taxi driver mission.
Its rewards are awesome. I discovered that the Apprentice stage driving skill is equivalent to an average driver’s two years of experience, five years for the adept stage, and ten years for the expert stage.
And I can get it after a hundred successful taxi rides. It may seem like a grind, but that was nothing compared to getting ten years of driving skills.
As for how I was even legally driving a taxi without proper experience?
…Let’s not think too hard about that.
I started the engine and pulled out of the garage.
Welcome to my new life as a taxi driver in the Marvel Universe.
Ride Accepted
Fare: 20$
Tip: 3$
The tip will decrease continuously based on the time taken to reach the destination, driving skills, driver behavior, etc. This is not absolute and can vary based on circumstances. If the tip is reduced to 0, the fare will start decreasing. Once the fair reaches 0, the ride will be considered a fail.
I raised an eyebrow. Oh. So, this system actually expects me to be a good driver. Harsh.
Well, time to test my non-existent skills.
I pulled up to the pickup spot, and my first customer of the day stepped in—a middle-aged man who looked like he bathed in money.
Finely tailored suit. Polished shoes that probably cost more than my monthly college tuition. A watch that gleamed just enough to remind people they were poorer than him.
He barely acknowledged me, lounging in the backseat, glued to his phone. A few seconds later, it buzzed, and he let out an exasperated sigh before answering.
“Yes? … I told you, I’m on my way to the board meeting.” His voice was controlled, professional, but irritation flickered underneath.
“A taxi, of course. My car stopped working.” He paused, and his grip on the phone tightened slightly. “You can hear the damn engine in the background… What do you mean by sending a picture of the inside—? Oh, for the love of—again with this?”
His tone dropped lower, more clipped. “You seriously think I—? No, I don’t have time for this, not now. We’ll talk later.”
The moment the call ended, he tossed his phone onto the seat beside him and breathed a tired, frustrated sigh.
I might be nineteen in this life, but I’d been an adult before. And while I had no luck with women, even I could tell what that was about.
“Woman troubles?” I said to lighten the mood.
The man let out a dry, bitter chuckle. “You could say that.”
“Every time I step out of the house, my wife assumes I’m sneaking off to cheat. It’s relentless.” His hand rubbed his temple as if just thinking about it gave him a headache. “I tell her it’s real, demanding, exhausting work, but she never believes me.”
“Sounds like she doesn’t trust you much,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Trust? Hah.” He let out a sharp exhale. “If I come home late, I’m guilty. If I leave early, I’m guilty. If I so much as glance at my phone too long, I’m guilty.” His fingers drummed against his knee, tension building.
“Doesn’t matter that I’m running three companies, handling mergers, making sure she never has to lift a damn finger. No, in her mind, I’m always one step away from running off with some secretary or model.”
“So, are you?” I asked, mostly as a joke.
The man paused, smirking as he ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair. Then, with a low chuckle, he answered, “That’s the funny part—I do. Just not when she thinks I am.”
I raised an eyebrow. Well, damn. This ride just got interesting.
“When I actually cheat?” He leaned back comfortably, a grin creeping onto his face. “She never suspects a thing. I cover my tracks, keep everything smooth—no sudden changes, no dumb mistakes. If anything, I act more attentive, more loving, and she eats it up.”
“But the moment I’m actually drowning in work? When I barely have time to breathe? That’s when she’s convinced I’m sneaking off to some hotel suite.” His grin faded into frustration.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “So, what? You’re mad that she only suspects you when you’re innocent?”
“Exactly!” he scoffed. “When I cheat, I put in the effort to be foolproof—to be the perfect husband. And she doesn’t bat an eye. But the second I’m grinding, losing sleep to keep the business alive? Boom. I’m suddenly the villain.” He exhaled, shaking his head.
“Yeah, you sure have it rough,” I said lightly, half-mocking.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, staring out the window.
A beat of silence passed. Then, he glanced at me. “Hey kid, you got a girlfriend?”
“Nope. Still single,” I said, smirking. “And looking at you? Relationships sound exhausting.”
“Oh, they are,” he sighed. “But listen—never get into one where you have to keep proving your innocence. If she doesn’t trust you when you’re being honest, she sure as hell won’t trust you when you actually give her a reason not to.”
“Huh. That’s… actually decent advice,” I said, genuinely impressed by the cheating mutherfucker.
“See?” He grinned. “I might be a terrible husband, but I give great life lessons.”
After that, the conversation fizzled out, leaving only the hum of the engine as I focused back on the road.
While driving, I experienced my lack of driving skills.
Who knew it was so hard to control a damn car?
I had to wrestle with the steering wheel every few minutes just to keep this deathtrap straight. Barely missed a guy in a crosswalk. Almost sideswiped a parked car. Someone actually jumped into a bush to avoid me.
Horn blasts and angry cursing followed me down the street.
However, in the end, I managed to reach my destination. A bit slower than necessary, but hey—no casualties.
The businessman got out, glanced at the car, then at me. Then, without a word, he handed me $22.
Huh?
"Here, have some beer with it," he said casually, passing me the bills.
I blinked. Was this a tip or a consolation prize?
The man hesitated for a second. “Wait, you can drink, right?”
“Nope. I’m nineteen,” I said, flashing a shit-eating grin.
The businessman chuckled, shaking his head. "Then have some milk with it."
And just like that, he walked off.
I let out a small snort of amusement before pulling away.
As I drove to my next ride, my mind wandered.
The hell is up with this 21+ drinking law, anyway?
So, at 18, people are old enough to get into debt, sign contracts, and get sent to war. But booze? Nah, wait three more years, kiddo.
Like yesterday, I was an immature brat, but today—poof!—magically wise enough to make all my life decisions. What complete bullshit.
Shaking my head, I focused back on the road.
One step closer to being the best taxi driver in the world.
—
You sure encounter strange and quirky characters while working as a taxi driver.
It’s been three days since I started, and I’ve completed eighteen trips. Currently on my way to the nineteenth.
I would have done more, but I only drive a few hours daily. One more ride, and I’ll level up my driving skills to Apprentice.
I gained the driving skill after completing my third trip.
Driving (Novice)
Progress.
Now, where was I? Oh yeah—quirky passengers.
First, there was the woman.
One of the chattiest people I had ever met. Once she started talking, she didn’t stop. Workplace drama, neighborhood gossip—who was cheating, who was stealing, who was secretly plotting world domination (okay, maybe not that last part, but it felt like it).
I swear, she unloaded her entire life story in a single cab ride.
Maybe she had nowhere else to vent, so she let it all out when she got into a stranger’s car.
Then there was the man in black.
Suspicious? Understatement.
Black hoodie. Black gloves. Black boots. A huge suitcase. He sat on edge the entire ride, eyes constantly flicking to the street.
For a $40 ride, the tip showed $200.
And it didn’t drop at all, despite my admittedly rough driving.
Did I say he was looking suspicious?
Once we reached his destination, he passed me the money and said, “You never met me.”
I blinked. What man in black with a suitcase? Never heard of him.
Without another word, he disappeared into an alley.
Did I just intentionally or unintentionally aid a criminal in his escape? Possibly.
Did I care? Not really.
And then there was the wannabe vigilante.
Wearing a goddamn cape.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing when he got in.
Apparently, he was "on his way to document criminal activity."
Ah yes. Nothing screams "I’m secretly watching crime" like a full-ass superhero cape.
For his sake, I hoped he wasn’t tailing actual criminals. Otherwise, he’d probably end face-first in a dumpster by the night's end.
Speaking of vigilantes, Peter Parker still has a long way to go before becoming the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.
He’s probably focusing on using his powers for quick fame and money. Only after Uncle Ben dies will he start his hero arc.
…What? Save Ben Parker?
Why the hell should I? What do I gain from that?
If anything, Ben’s death is an opportunity. With him out of the picture, May Parker becomes vulnerable. And Peter? Easier to manipulate using her.
Oh yeah, I’ve seen May Parker.
She’s not the frail old lady from the comics. Mid-thirties, fills out a dress nicely.
Okay, calm down. Focus.
I was getting carried away again. Even with a system, I’m still at the bottom.
How do I know? Because my driving is so shit that my tip bar keeps dropping to zero.
Other than that cheating rich man and the guy who definitely didn’t have a body in his suitcase, every other customer docked my fare down.
What? You’d think the non-stop talking woman would at least tip me for being a good listener.
Nope. Turns out, listening skills don’t compensate for near-death experiences behind the wheel.
…Anyway. Back to vigilantes.
When I first got the Taxi Driver mission, I had a feeling other system missions were hidden in this world.
And that wannabe superhero in a cape? He just gave me an idea to unlock one.
Turns out, finding crime in this city is ridiculously easy.
I took a drive through a slightly shady area and, on my very first attempt, found a live mugging happening in a deserted alley.
The scene? Classic.
A stoned-looking junkie waving a knife at some poor bastard, demanding his wallet. Probably desperate for his next fix.
Now, let’s get one thing straight. I am not some hot-headed idiot looking to fight 200 rounds with a knife-wielding maniac. I am a squishy human, and I like staying alive.
So, I did the next best thing.
I quickly downloaded an MP3 of a police siren and blasted it through my taxi’s speakers at full volume—windows down for maximum effect.
Was it 100% realistic? Nope.
Was the volume probably too low? Yeah.
Did it matter? Absolutely not.
The second the stoner heard the wailing siren, he froze. His pupils widened in panic. Then, without a second thought, he bolted like the cops were actually right around the corner.
I smirked. Idiot.
And just like that, I barely unlocked my second system mission.
Mission: Vigilante
Description: Eliminate serious criminals
Objective 1: Eliminate 20 serious criminals
Reward: Strength (F3)
Objective 2: Eliminate 50 serious criminals
Reward: Active Skill: Brutal Strike
Objective 3: Eliminate 100 serious criminals
Reward: Strength (E1)
I glanced at the mission details and raised an eyebrow.
Huh. It seems that my system doesn’t buy into Marvel or DC’s philosophy of giving criminals infinite second chances.
One strike, and you’re out, huh? Brutal.
Of course, that stoner idiot wouldn’t qualify as a "serious criminal." If the system is strict, only gang members, hardened thugs, and high-tier criminals will count.
Which means... I won’t be starting this mission anytime soon.
I am still just a normal guy. No powers. No combat training. Until I fix that, this mission can stay untouched.
Of course, despite the high difficulty, the rewards matched the efforts. I can obtain peak human strength by completing one objective, worth it. And as long as I can complete all objectives, I can even get superhuman strength.
Superhuman strength—real, tangible power—is within reach.
I just need to be patient.
For now, I’ll focus on getting stronger the smart way—step by step, without rushing or making dumb mistakes.
I got sidetracked again.
Oh, looks like the destination is here.
My passenger climbed out without a word, barely handing me the full fare before shooting me a disgusted look and muttering something about shitty taxi drivers.
Hey, you bastard, I just dropped you off in Hell’s Kitchen. The least you could do is tip me for the trauma.
I sighed, exhaustion settling in. Balancing college, taxi driving, and planning my rise to power? A nightmare. Over the past few days, I’ve mapped out a general direction for my future, but execution? That’s the hard part.
The rude passenger vanished into a dimly lit alley, swallowed by the rundown district.
Even though this was just the outskirts of Hell’s Kitchen, it felt like stepping into a different world.
The air was heavier, thicker. The flickering street lights barely pushed back the darkness. Trash lined the streets, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, followed by a distant argument.
Time to leave.
I might check this place out later but for now, the brighter parts of the city sound much better.
I reached for the gear shift, ready to drive off—
BAM.
The passenger door swung open.
A man stumbled inside, breathing hard.
My entire body went rigid.
His face was half-hidden beneath a hoodie, but what caught my attention was his stomach—his hand pressing against a dark stain, wet and spreading.
Blood.
He slumped against the seat, chest rising and falling rapidly, his breath shallow. The air inside the cab grew thick with the scent of sweat and iron.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I swallowed hard. My gut screamed at me—something was very, very wrong.
“Uh… man, you okay?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay even.
No response.
He kept panting, gripping his side, his fingers digging into the wound like he was trying to hold himself together.
Then, in a single, sharp motion, he pulled something from his jacket.
A gun.
Cold, black steel gleamed under the streetlights.
My stomach dropped.
A new, unfamiliar feeling washed over me—something sharp, cold, primal.
Fear.
For the first time in both of my lives, I felt real, actual danger.
"Drive."
The man’s voice was raspy, strained. The gun’s cold steel pressed against the back of my head.
First time in Hell’s Kitchen, and I already have a gun to my skull.
Even with a system, I’m apparently playing life in Hell Mode.
I tried to focus on anything except the weapon touching me. Random thoughts, dumb jokes, anything to stop my brain from spiraling into full-blown panic. Thankfully, Gamer’s Mind helped me calm down.
I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. “Okay, man, stay calm. No need for violence. Where do you want me to go?”
“Just drive straight. I’ll tell you when and where to turn,” he muttered, wincing as his injured stomach throbbed.
Then his voice hardened. “And you better not do anything funny, or you’ll go home with a hole in your head. Understand?”
"Absolutely. No funny business," I reassured him a little too quickly.
“Shut up. Just drive,” he snapped.
Fine, whatever. I could take a verbal lashing. A bullet? Not so much.
I hit the gas and started driving.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized this still counted as a taxi ride.
If I survived this, I’d complete the first objective of the Taxi Driver mission and finally get the Apprentice driving skill.
…If I survived.
I used my skill Observe on him. It showed he was at F2 Tier.
The system didn’t show individual stats, just an overall Tier. But an F2 Tier meant he was at the trained human level, which put him above me in every physical category.
Great. Even without a gun, he could still snap me in half.
Meaning? Escape was impossible.
Minutes crawled by.
As I drove deeper into Hell’s Kitchen, the streets grew darker, grittier.
Neon signs flickered weakly, barely lighting the narrow alleys filled with shadows. Thugs loitered near street corners, watching passing cars with sharp, predatory gazes.
The city here felt hungry, waiting to swallow anyone foolish enough to get lost in it.
After half an hour, we pulled up in front of a rundown, decaying house.
The air inside the car felt thicker, heavier.
I swallowed hard. This was the kind of place people disappeared in.
The man stepped out of the taxi.
Then, he turned and pointed his gun directly at my face.
My breath stopped.
The cold steel glistened under the dim streetlights, its barrel trained between my eyes.
Oh shit.
A sharp, metallic taste filled my mouth—I’d bitten my tongue. Cold sweat dripped down my back, soaking into my already damp shirt.
My mind raced. Run? No. Fight? Definitely not. Beg? Useless.
Think.
"I don’t know you and have never seen you," I blurted out, my voice fast but steady.
The man stared at me.
For a long, agonizing moment, he didn’t move.
Then, slowly, he lowered the gun.
“Smart kid,” he muttered. “You’ll live long.”
Then he gave me a final, wordless threat before stepping into the house, vanishing into the darkness.
I sat there frozen, watching until the door fully closed.
Then, I slammed the car into reverse and got the hell out of there.
I didn’t stop driving until I was well outside Hell’s Kitchen.
Once I finally pulled over to a safer part of the city, I let out a shaky breath.
My hands gripped the wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My shirt? Completely drenched in sweat.
This was my real welcome to the Marvel world.
For the first time, it truly hit me.
I could have died.
No respawns. No second chances. Just a bullet, and it would’ve all ended here.
I exhaled, forcing my heartbeat to slow. I’d survived.
For now.
I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment.
He’ll pay. Not today. But soon.
I took a break on the roadside to cool my head and calm my nerves.
A few minutes later, I finally decided to look at a few notifications I had received earlier but had chosen to ignore.
Mission: Taxi Driver
Objective 1: Complete 20 successful taxi rides (Completed)
Reward: Passive Skill: Driving (Apprentice) (Ready to receive)
I accepted the reward.
And instantly, something shifted in my mind.
It was subtle at first—then it hit like a wave.
A flood of instincts, reactions, and precise hand-eye coordination filled my head. Gear shifts, sharp turns, braking techniques—all of it suddenly made sense.
From a newbie driver, I’d just become someone with two years of experience.
I blinked, gripping the wheel, testing the new muscle memory.
Well, at least something good came out of that shitshow.
I checked my second notification.
Helped an injured person receive medical aid. Paramedic mission activated.
Mission: Paramedic
Description: Heal people
Objective 1: Heal 20 people
Reward: Vitality (F3)
Objective 2: Heal 50 people
Reward: Health Regen Increase (+100%)
Objective 3: Heal 100 people
Reward: Vitality (E1)
A slow smile crept onto my face as I read the new mission.
I might just give him a slightly less painful death.
