## Chapter 2: The Grind
The room above Sal's Deli remained a damp, cramped cell perpetually smelling of stale grease and despair. Rain lashed against the grimy window, mirroring the storm within Bob Peterson. He sat hunched on the cot's edge, gingerly prodding the deep purple bruise on his left forearm – a brutal souvenir from the alley mugging. The phantom warmth of that single, hard-earned XP and JP had faded days ago, leaving only the cold ache of reality and the Void's insidious whispers.
**[Level: 1 (1/50 XP)]**
**[JP: 1]**
*One point.* Nine more JP just to upgrade *one* Level 1 ability to Level 2. Forty-nine XP to reach Level 2, which wouldn't make him stronger, just unlock the *privilege* of spending *more* JP (15 instead of 10) to upgrade that same ability *again*. The locked powers – Flight, Energy Projection, *Reality Warping* – taunted him with their impossible requirement levels. Level 400 wasn't a goal; it was a cosmic insult.
A low, oily chuckle slithered through his mind. *"Obsessing over pennies? How delightfully mundane. One spark of our true power, and this pathetic hovel, this entire squalid block, would be silent dust. Imagine the peace."*
Bob clenched his jaw, focusing on the physical pain. *"Shut up."*
*"Or what?"* The Void's amusement was a psychic sneer. *"You'll frown harder? Pathetic. You grovel for crumbs while the feast of godhood festers within. Let me taste the air, Bob. Just a sip..."*
Bob shut his eyes, desperately clinging to Jack Reynolds' fading memories: the quiet hum of a coffee maker on a Sunday morning, the comforting weight of Mittens purring on his lap, the clean satisfaction of a perfectly balanced spreadsheet. Fragile shields against the Void's corrosive presence. He couldn't afford to listen. He had to survive today.
The cracked phone's alarm buzzed violently. 6:30 AM. Time for Wayne Enterprises.
***
Wayne Tower's gleaming lobby felt like an alien planet after the Bowery's grime. Bob shuffled through the cavernous, marble-floored space, a ghost in cheap, slightly damp clothes amidst the sharply dressed professionals. He rode the elevator *down*, descending into the fluorescent-lit purgatory of the Data Processing Annex.
His cubicle was a grey fabric-walled island in a sea of identical islands. The air hummed with the monotonous drone of computers and the soft clatter of keyboards. Bob logged in, the familiar, soul-crushing interface filling his screen. Names, numbers, invoices – a relentless digital river he was paid a pittance to navigate. Bob Peterson's life had been defined by this numbing routine. Jack Reynolds' consciousness screamed against it, yearning for the potential simmering just beneath his skin, potential that felt frustratingly out of reach.
He forced his hands to move, inputting data with mechanical efficiency. The bruise on his arm pulsed with every keystroke. The Void whispered, a constant static of contempt: *"Look at them. Insects. Unaware. Crush that one, sniffling over there. Annoying. Start small."*
Bob focused on the numbers. 10 JP. 50 XP. He needed to earn more. He needed to *act*. But how? Randomly patrolling Gotham was a recipe for disaster. He needed opportunities the System would recognize, small enough to manage with his meager powers, far from the gaze of Gotham's established shadows. The System generated quests only when he was near trouble. He had to put himself out there, carefully, like laying traps for points.
His lunch break was spent not in the crowded cafeteria, but on a bench in a small, bleak park nearby, eating a dry sandwich from Sal's. He scanned the news on his phone. Batman and Robin had thwarted Poison Ivy's attempt to turn Robinson Park into a carnivorous jungle. Pictures showed monstrous vines wrapped around police cars, officers looking dazed. High-level heroics. Worlds away.
**[Passive Observation: Major Heroic Event - Robinson Park Incident]**
**[Analysis: Host not involved. Threat mitigated by established Protectors.]**
**[Reward: N/A - Observation only.]**
No free points. The grind was absolute. He needed his own scale.
That night, armed with a dark hoodie, a desperate need for progress, and the faint, lingering ache in his arm, Bob ventured out. He avoided major thoroughfares and known villain hotspots, sticking to the fringes, the forgotten corners of the Bowery and the neighboring districts. He walked, senses straining, the System interface a constant ghost in his peripheral vision. He listened for cries, watched for flickers of distress in the rain-slicked gloom.
It took over an hour of tense, cautious wandering before a new notification flickered:
**[Quest Generated: Lost Child]**
**[Location: Robinson Park Perimeter (North-East - Cleared Zone)]**
**[Objective: Locate lost child and reunite with guardians or authorities.]**
**[Threat Level: Minimal]**
**[Potential Reward: 1 XP, 1 JP]**
Robinson Park. Still crawling with GCPD and cleanup crews after Ivy's attack. Not ideal, but the reward matched the mugging. And a lost child… Jack's conscience wouldn't allow inaction. The faint throb in his arm reminded him of his limitations.
He moved quickly, using his baseline Lv.1 Speed (merely a well-trained athlete's pace) to cover ground efficiently, sticking to shadows cast by the park's perimeter fence and the skeletal remains of ivy-stripped trees. Near the north-east fence line, away from the main cleanup zones, he heard it: soft, hiccupping sobs. A small boy, maybe five or six, dressed in muddy pajamas, sat huddled under a dripping bush, clutching a sodden teddy bear.
"Hey," Bob said softly, crouching down a safe distance away, keeping his hood up, face shadowed. "Lost?"
The boy looked up, eyes wide with fear and tears. He nodded mutely.
"Where's your mom and dad?" Bob asked gently, keeping his voice low.
"Got... got lost," the boy stammered, shivering. "The plants... they moved! They were scary!"
Residual Ivy pheromones or childhood fright? Bob didn't care. "It's okay now. The plants are sleeping. The police are here. Let's find one, yeah? They'll help find your mom and dad." He held out a hand slowly, palm up, non-threatening.
The boy hesitated, then took Bob's hand with tiny, cold fingers. Bob led him carefully towards the flashing blue lights visible near a park entrance, staying within the tree line. He spotted a harried-looking officer directing a small clean-up crew.
"Officer?" Bob called, his voice low but carrying. "Found this one. Says he got separated during the excitement."
The officer turned, relief washing over his face. "Timmy! Thank heavens!" He rushed over, scooping the boy up. "We've been looking everywhere, son! Are you hurt?" He looked sharply at Bob, his gaze scanning the hooded figure. "You found him? Where?"
"Just over there, under a bush near the fence," Bob gestured vaguely back into the park's edge. "Heard him crying." He started backing away immediately. "Glad he's safe."
"Hey, wait! Your name?" the officer called after him, suspicion warring with gratitude.
But Bob was already moving, melting into the deeper shadows between two parked GCPD cruisers and then into an adjacent alleyway. He didn't look back.
**[Quest: Lost Child - Complete!]**
**[Reward: 1 XP, 1 JP Awarded.]**
**[Level: 1 (2/50 XP)]**
**[JP: 2]**
Two points. It felt like chipping at granite with a spoon. But the phantom warmth flickered. The boy was safe. That mattered. He ignored the Void's sneering commentary about wasted time and sentimentality.
The next few nights became a grim, exhausting routine. Bob became a specter in Gotham's underbelly, hunting for fractions of justice:
* **Quest: Storefront Fire:** Smelling acrid smoke near a cluster of old shops late one night, he found an elderly man coughing violently, trying futilely to douse flames engulfing the front of his dusty, beloved bookstore with a bucket of water. The source? A shattered bottle reeking of accelerant – Firefly's crude signature, though the villain himself was likely blocks away orchestrating larger chaos. Bob used his Lv.1 Strength (a strong man's effort) to physically haul the protesting man away from the intense heat and choking smoke. The back door was jammed. Bob threw his shoulder against it once, twice (*Thud! Thud!* Pain flared in his already bruised arm) – Lv.1 Strength wasn't enough. Gritting his teeth, he found a discarded metal rod and used it as a lever, finally forcing the door open with a splintering crash just as the flames roared into the main space. He got the man clear moments before the GCPD and fire trucks arrived, hearing the distant, unmistakable *whoosh* of Batgirl's bike heading towards the epicenter of Firefly's distraction. **[Reward: 2 XP, 2 JP (Threat Level: Medium - proximity to super-criminal activity/risk)]**
* **Quest: Prevent Assault:** Outside a rowdy bar spilling drunken patrons onto the wet street two nights later, he saw a loud argument escalate dangerously. One man, huge and belligerent, shoved another hard, sending him crashing into a parked car. The aggressor drew back his fist for a crushing blow. Bob stepped in (*Speed Lv.1* got him there quickly, but not supernaturally so). "Break it up!" The drunk, enraged, swung wildly. Bob took the punch high on his shoulder (*Invulnerability Lv.1* – *CRUNCH* – a fresh, deep bruise bloomed instantly, pain radiating down his arm). He grunted, shoving the aggressor back with a solid push (*Strength Lv.1*), staggering the larger man and holding him at bay until the drunk's friends intervened, dragging him away cursing. Bob slipped off before police arrived, clutching his throbbing shoulder. **[Reward: 1 XP, 1 JP]**
* **Quest: Stranded Motorist:** Early one rain-lashed evening, he spotted a car with a flat tire partially blocking a narrow side street, a young woman looking frantic as other vehicles honked impatiently. He quickly changed the tire for her (the effort taxing his Lv.1 Stamina, leaving him winded), getting her safely on her way before the situation escalated. **[Reward: 0.5 XP, 0.5 JP (Threat Level: Minimal)]**
* **Quest: Mugging Deterrence:** Three nights later, near a closed pawn shop, he saw two teenagers menacing a nervous-looking man for his wallet. Bob stepped out of the shadows, his presence alone and a low growl of "Move along" startling them enough to flee. The man stammered thanks, but Bob was gone before he finished. **[Reward: 1 XP, 1 JP]**
Rewards were paltry, the physical cost tangible. After a week and a half of this cautious, exhausting heroism (working monotonous days, patrolling risky nights), his body was a canvas of fading bruises and fresh aches. Bob Peterson looked gaunter, shadows deepening under Jack's perpetually tired eyes. Enhanced Stamina Lv.1 barely took the edge off the constant fatigue. He needed power. He needed an upgrade. He needed to stop hurting every time he tried to help.
His status reflected the slow, painful accumulation:
**[Level: 1 (6.5/50 XP)]** // *Earned 5.5 XP total (1 Alley + 1 Child + 2 Fire + 1 Assault + 0.5 Tire + 1 Mugging Deterrence)*
**[JP: 7.5]** // *Earned 6.5 JP total (1 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 0.5 + 1)*
He'd gained 5.5 XP and 6.5 JP. He was still Level 1. He needed 43.5 more XP just to level up. He needed 2.5 more JP just to afford the **10 JP** cost to upgrade *one* Level 1 ability to Level 2. The Void reveled in his frustration.
*"Scraping the barrel,"* it mocked. *"Bruises for pennies. When will you learn? True power isn't earned in drips. It's *taken*."*
Sitting on his cot, staring at the interface, the numbers glaring back – **7.5 / 10 JP** – the gap felt immense. He *wanted* Regeneration Lv.2 desperately, to heal faster, to endure the grind. But he was still 2.5 JP short. He couldn't upgrade yet. The System demanded the full price.
The grind continued. Patience wore thinner than his threadbare sheets. Two more nights yielded minor successes:
* **Quest: Prevent Vandalism:** Stopped a group of kids from smashing bus shelter glass. Used presence and a stern word. **[Reward: 0.5 XP, 0.5 JP]**
* **Quest: Lost Pet Found:** Located a frantic owner searching for a small dog, returning the shivering terrier. **[Reward: 0.5 XP, 0.5 JP (Threat Level: Minimal)]**
The points trickled in:
**[Level: 1 (7.5/50 XP)]** // *Total XP: 7.5*
**[JP: 8.5]** // *Total JP: 8.5*
Still short. Frustration gnawed at him. The Void whispered temptations: *"See that pawn shop? Easy money. Or that arrogant suit walking alone? Take what you need. Power is there for the taking."* Bob clenched his fists, focusing on the memory of the lost child's relieved face, the stranded motorist's thanks. Small lights in the gloom.
Finally, late one night, near a closed community center, he heard a woman's sharp cry. A purse snatcher, young and desperate-looking, was sprinting down the street, clutching a handbag. Bob gave chase (*Speed Lv.1* pushing him). He wasn't vastly faster, but he was persistent. He cornered the youth in a dead-end alley. The kid pulled a small pocket knife, hand shaking. "Back off!"
Bob didn't flinch. *Invulnerability Lv.1* wouldn't stop a determined stab, but the kid looked terrified. "Drop it. Give her the bag back." His voice was low, firm. The kid hesitated, then tossed the bag down and scrambled past Bob, vanishing. Bob retrieved the bag, returning it to the shaken woman a block away. She thanked him profusely. He vanished before she could ask questions.
**[Quest: Purse Snatcher Apprehension]**
**[Objective: Recover stolen property and return to owner. Deter thief.]**
**[Threat Level: Low]**
**[Reward: 1 XP, 1.5 JP (Bonus for weapon presence deterred)]**
**[Level: 1 (8.5/50 XP)]**
**[JP: 10]** // *8.5 + 1.5 = 10.0*
He had it. Finally. **10 JP.** Enough for *one* upgrade. Back in his room, the rain a constant drumbeat, Bob allocated the points with grim determination. He needed to heal faster. He needed to endure.
**[Regeneration: Lv.1 -> Lv.2]**
**[Cost: 10 JP]**
**[JP: 0]**
The upgrade wasn't dramatic. There was no surge of light. But over the next hour, as he sat there, he *felt* it. The deep, persistent ache in his shoulder from the drunk's punch softened noticeably, then faded entirely. The fresh bruise on his forearm from the purse snatcher incident lost its angry purple hue far quicker than normal, fading rapidly to a faint yellow within an hour. The myriad small scrapes and strains from the week vanished. A small cut on his knuckle, unnoticed until now, sealed itself before his eyes. He felt… less fragile. The constant background thrum of minor pain receded significantly. It was a subtle, profound shift towards resilience. He could take a hit and bounce back *faster*. It wasn't invincibility, but it was a crucial buffer against the relentless grind.
**[JP: 0]**
**[Level: 1 (8.5/50 XP)]**
He had no JP left. He was still Level 1. But he felt marginally more capable, slightly less like raw meat thrown into Gotham's grinder. The Void was unimpressed. *"Patching holes instead of forging armor. Weak. The real pain hasn't even begun, little sentinel."*
The grind continued. Another week passed. The System, perhaps recognizing his persistence, seemed slightly more responsive. He found another lost child (1 XP, 1 JP). He helped an old lady carry heavy groceries up four flights of stairs (0.5 XP, 0.5 JP). He broke up another scuffle, this time avoiding injury thanks to better positioning and slightly quicker reactions honed by experience (1 XP, 1 JP). Slowly, painstakingly, the numbers crept up. The new Regeneration made the bruises fade faster, the aches subside quicker, making the nightly patrols slightly less physically punishing, though the mental toll remained.
Finally, late one rainy night, after directing a lost, confused tourist away from a dangerous neighborhood (0.5 XP, 0.5 JP), the notification appeared:
**[Level Up! Level 2! (0/75 XP)]** // *Level 2 requires 75 XP (50 * 1.5 = 75)*
**[+1 JP Awarded per Level]**
**[Total JP: 3.0]** // *Had 2.0 JP remaining (from previous quests) + 1 Level Bonus = 3.0*
The notification was stark. No wave of revitalizing energy. No sudden clarity or enhanced senses. Just text. He was Level 2. He now met the requirement for abilities locked until Level 30 or below (none yet applicable, as the lowest was Energy Projection at 30). He had 3.0 JP. The bonus point was a small mercy, but he needed **12.0 more JP** (15 total - 3 current) just to upgrade *one* ability to Level 2 now (since Level 2 upgrades cost 15 JP). The path forward was longer, steeper.
**[Level: 2 (0/75 XP)]**
**[JP: 3.0]**
He also noticed the System interface felt marginally more responsive, perhaps adapting to his increased level, but no new functions appeared. The quest marker for his next minor intervention seemed slightly clearer. The grind wasn't over; it had just reset with higher targets. He looked at his calloused hands and the rain-streaked window. The mountain was taller, the demon still whispered, and Gotham's shadows felt no less deep. Bob Peterson, Level 2, felt just as insignificant as he had at Level 1. The slow path demanded relentless patience, a currency he was running desperately low on. The Void's laughter, faint but persistent, echoed the thought: *"Round and round the hamster wheel, little sentinel. When do we run *free*?"* He had no answer, only the rain and the next, inevitable call for help in the endless dark.