There was something different about the way people looked at Liam now.
Even if they didn't know, they felt it — a shift in the air when he walked in. The sense that things around him tilted, even if they didn't understand how or why.
In truth, they were right.
Everything was bending now.
Not all at once. Not in grand, obvious ways. But slowly. Like gravity deciding it wanted to play favorites.
And Liam Kade — no, Zero — was learning to control the strings.
A Room of SecretsHe moved out of the motel on a rainy Wednesday morning, using a fake ID and his winnings from the last fight bet to secure a small, third-floor apartment in South Bronx. It was above a closed laundromat, with peeling paint, crooked floorboards, and a view of a crumbling alley.
Perfect.
The first thing he did was cover the windows with black trash bags and duct tape.
The second thing he did was clear every reflective surface.
Mirrors. Glass. Even his phone screen was covered with matte film.
He didn't want to see himself anymore. Not until he knew what he was becoming.
[System Update – User Stability: Marginal]
New Perk Available: "Digital Obfuscation" – System interference now scrambles digital tracking and behavioral data.
New System Category: Influence Metrics
Influence: 0.02% of Local Betting Economy
Path Objective: Expand control over underground wagering circuits. Milestone: 1.00% Control
Liam sat in the dark and whispered to no one, "We start small."
Threading the GameHe began with basketball.
Local street league. Harlem Knights vs. Uptown Royals. No media, no cameras. But money? Plenty.
He showed up alone, hoodie pulled low, and took notes — not of the players' skill, but their habits. One guard smoked during halftime. Another limped on his right foot but refused to tape it. A center had a girlfriend in the stands — got distracted every time she laughed.
Variables.
Weaknesses.
Threads.
He slipped into the betting circle near the food trucks. Took fifty bucks from one guy. Then doubled it. Then tripled it. Not through knowledge, but through timed interventions.
A cough here. A tripwire of sound from a phone alarm he planted earlier. A tipped drink that spilled near the bench.
Distraction. Tilt. Influence.
Uptown Royals lost in overtime.
Liam walked away with $700 and six eyes following him.
[Micro-Bias Skill Progress: 82%]
[Influence Metrics: 0.15%]
WARNING: Local Pattern Recognition Threshold Nearing Exposure
He paused in an alley behind the court.
"Pattern recognition?"
The system is effective… but not invisible. Play smarter.
New Passive Trigger: "Mist Layer" – Adds random statistical noise to user actions to reduce detection.
He smiled.
The system wasn't just a cheat.
It was alive.
And it wanted him to win.
Smiling Faces, Sharpened KnivesWord began to spread.
Not fast. Not loud. But in whispers.
There was a guy making perfect bets on underground games.
Never flashy. Never greedy. But always right.
They didn't know his face. They didn't know his name.
But they called him Ghost-Hand in the Bronx.
And someone started watching.
The First CrackIt came during a fixed boxing match two weeks later.
Liam had scoped it perfectly: the boxer named DeShawn was supposed to take a dive in round 3. The odds were stacked for him, because no one knew the fix was in.
Liam bet big. Too big.
$3,000 across three proxies. Enough to make some people look twice.
When the fight began, it felt… wrong.
Round one — DeShawn held his own.
Round two — he dominated.
Liam felt something tug behind his eye.
A cold slip in the thread.
[Thread Distortion Detected]
External Factor Interference – Unknown]
Probability Shift: OUTCOME NO LONGER CERTAIN
"Wait—what?"
Liam activated Micro-Bias, pouring in everything he could. He whispered, blinked, cracked his neck — his rituals.
Nothing worked.
DeShawn won.
Clean.
Afterward, Liam checked his sources.
Turns out… the fixer died in a car crash that morning.
Without him to give the signal, DeShawn fought like it was real.
A one-in-a-million variable.
Unforeseen.
[Warning: Control Limitations Detected]
Lesson: Not all threads are yours yet.
Liam sat in his apartment, staring at the wall for hours.
Hands trembling.
He had forgotten.
The system didn't promise perfection.
Just possibility.
Building the WebLiam adapted.
He started placing smaller bets, spread thin through dummy accounts and third-party proxies.
He learned to create distractions, chaos, and diversions so his influence wouldn't show as a pattern. Sometimes, he even let himself lose.
But every action planted something.
Fear. Confusion. Respect.
A reputation.
Not as a man. But as a phenomenon.
And then, one night, after a week of "balanced wins," the system gave him something new.
[New Title Available]
Claim Alias: The Joker?
Liam stared at the glowing words.
"The Joker," he whispered.
He hadn't told the system that name.
Not once.
He hadn't said it aloud since it first whispered in his dreams weeks ago.
Confirm?
[YES] — [NO]
He reached for it—
—but paused.
"Not yet."
[Title Locked. Awaiting Emergence.]
He wasn't ready.
But soon.
Tugging ThreadsAt 2 a.m., Liam walked through Harlem with a fresh five-hundred in his pocket and three more games manipulated into his favor for the next week.
He passed an old homeless man playing harmonica.
Liam flipped him a coin — not out of kindness, but out of curiosity.
The man caught it. Looked up.
"You walkin' on borrowed time, boy," he said with clouded eyes.
Liam stopped. "Excuse me?"
"Time don't like to be bent."
"Neither do I."
He walked on, letting the system dull the memory of the man's voice.
System PulseUser Level: 6 → 7
New Perk: "Blindspot Theory" – Manipulate one surveillance node per 24 hours to erase presence.
Influence Metrics: 0.62% of Local Betting Economy
Milestone Approaching: 1.00%
Path Update: Phase Two of Control Available at 1.00% Threshold
Liam stood on the roof of his building, watching lights flicker across the Bronx like stars dying in real time.
Behind him, a gun clicked.
"Turn around slow."
He did.
A man with a ski mask and a pistol stood ten feet away.
"You're Ghost-Hand, right? I don't like how much you been winning."
Liam didn't blink.
Didn't flinch.
He whispered, "Edge Tilt."
Outcome Prediction: Misfire – 87.2%
Trigger: Mechanical fault / Dust obstruction
The man pulled the trigger.
Click.
No bullet.
Liam stepped forward.
Calm.
"I don't lose."
He grabbed the man's wrist, spun, drove him to the rooftop edge.
One push. A stumble.
Not dead.
But close enough.
[Personality Drift: +1 Coldness | -2 Mercy]
Liam watched the man groan on the fire escape below.
Then he walked back into the shadows.
Not afraid.
Not shaken.
Just focused.
The End of the BeginningThree weeks later, his control passed 1.00%.
The betting underground knew his name.
Bookies started copying his bets. Others ran from games he touched.
One guy even shot himself after a bad night betting against him.
And that's when it happened.
[System Threshold Reached – Control Phase Two Initiated]
New Feature: Network Threading
You may now influence and redirect the actions of others via probability anchoring.
Targets: Low-will individuals only. Risk of resistance increases with intelligence.
Effect: Bend humans. Begin building your empire.
Liam stood in front of his bathroom mirror.
He looked himself in the eye for the first time in weeks.
The smile came slow.
Tired. Sharp.
"I am the house," he said.
"And the house always wins."