The penthouse door closed behind me with a soft hiss, a definitive sound that severed me from the city's grimy churn. I stood for a long moment in the marble foyer, the silence a profound absence after the violent intensity of my recent task. It was a quiet that felt both alien and strangely inviting.
[And the award for 'Cleanest First Kill in History' goes to… the new guy!] the System's voice chimed in my head, a distinct current of sarcasm running beneath its tone. [Seriously, impressive work. Methodical. Ruthless. And you tricked him into sniffing poison! Ten out of ten for creative villainy. I'm so proud.]
"It wasn't villainy," I replied, a quiet rebuttal forming in my mind as I walked toward the vast living area. "It was a strategic asset removal."
[Villainy, strategic asset removal... Pfft, who cares what you call it! The point is, he's dead, and you've got a new toy!] the System insisted, its enthusiasm now overriding its earlier jests. It buzzed with an almost childish eagerness. [Come on, let's open our presents! Test it out! Can you shrink your… you know what, never mind. Let's just see the basics first.]
I found my way to a section of the penthouse I hadn't yet explored: Aryan Spencer's private gym. It was an enormous space, easily the size of a small basketball court, completely soundproofed, and without a single window to the outside world.
"Let's see what this is all about," I murmured aloud, my voice feeling small as it echoed in the empty expanse.
An interface shimmered into existence in my vision, presenting my updated status:
[HOST: Aryan Spencer]
[EXPERIENCE POINTS (XP): 0]
[POWERS: Size Alteration (Tier 4)]
[INVENTORY: (47/50 Grids Used)]
Activating the power was… peculiar. It began as a focused thought, a subtle resonance deep within my very cells. I picturing myself becoming smaller.
The sensation was profoundly disorienting. It felt as if the entire world around me was suddenly expanding. The ceiling above me raced upward into an unreachable distance, and the walls morphing into distant horizons. I experienced an unrelenting force, pressing in from all sides, compacting my matter. It felt as though every atom within me was being packed tighter.
I halted the process when I estimated myself to be about a foot tall. I looked down at my hands, now disproportionately small. When I took a step, my foot landed with a surprisingly solid thud on the mat, a sound disproportionate to my size.
[Whoa! Trippy!] the System commented, its voice sounding a touch surprised. [You look like a doll. A very handsome, very tactical doll. Can you do a flip?]
I ignored its playful suggestion and continued to shrink. The room swiftly became a landscape of giants. A discarded water bottle now loomed like a colossal skyscraper. I pushed the shrinking further, my will a determined force, until I was no more than an inch tall.
The perspective was utterly alien, a world entirely recontextualized. The texture of the floor mat was now a tangled forest of synthetic fibers. I felt incredibly solid, a tiny nugget of compressed matter.
"Interesting," I murmured, my voice an almost comical squeak.
[Interesting? This is amazing!] the System squeaked back, its excitement completely uncontained. [Think of the possibilities! You could sneak into a movie theater for free! You could explore an anthill! You could ride a pigeon!]
"I'm thinking more along the lines of infiltrating a secure Vought facility by slipping under the door," I countered in my thoughts, my mind already racing through the practical applications. This was an S-tier power, without a doubt.
I then reversed the process, focusing my will on the idea of growth. The world rushed inward, shrinking around me with dizzying speed as I expanded. The feeling was the direct opposite of before. A profound sense of lightness, as if my atoms were gently spreading apart. I shot past my normal height, the twelve-foot ceiling growing uncomfortably. I stopped when my head just brushed against its hard surface.
Looking down, the entire room seemed to have become a detailed model, a miniature diorama of itself. My movements at this size were noticeably slower and my density was clearly low. While it presented a potent intimidation tactic, its direct combat applications felt limited. The true power resided in the shrinking.
I returned to my normal size, the world snapping back into its familiar perspective. I now understood the power's intricate mechanics, its inherent strengths, and its distinct weaknesses. It was a tool and like any tool, its effectiveness rested entirely in the hands of a skilled operator.
With the necessary tests complete, I moved back to my command center. It was time to ascertain if my cleanup operation had been as thorough and successful as I'd hoped. I settled into my chair and brought the city's digital world to my fingertips.
A single paragraph on a bottom-feeder celebrity gossip website was the only mention. The headline read: "'ANT-MAN' ACTOR DEAD IN APPARENT OVERDOSE."
The article itself was almost disdainful. It mentioned Termite's name, his "minor role in the Vought Cinematic Universe," and then quoted an official Vought press release. "We are saddened by the tragic passing of a former member of the Vought family," the statement began, a carefully constructed façade. "He had been struggling with personal demons for some time. Our thoughts are with his family during this difficult period."
The NYPD case was already closed. The official cause of death was listed as cardiac arrest due to a polysubstance overdose. Vought's cleaners had done their job with chilling efficiency, burying my meticulous work under a thick layer of corporate PR and plausible deniability.
I leaned back in my chair, a slow smile spreading across my face. The methodology was sound. I could systematically pick off low-tier Supes, and as long as I operated with careful precision, Vought themselves would inadvertently assist me in covering my tracks.
[See? You did them a favor,] the System chirped, its tone now utterly pleased. [You took out their trash, and they handled the disposal. It's a win-win!]
"Now it's time to find a way to get stronger," my gaze fixed on the glittering cityscape. "Size Alteration is a fantastic tool for stealth and infiltration, but it's not a weapon. Against a truly powerful Supe, shrinking just makes me a smaller target. Retaining it was a strategic necessity to build my toolkit, but now I need raw power. I need XP to upgrade it, or to bank for a better combat ability down the line."
I dove back into the digital underworld, my virtual proxies hiding my presence like ghosts in the machine. I was searching for an opportunity, a place where the vermin of the world would gather, oblivious to the predator among them.
On the same dark web forums where I'd first found Termite, a low hum of activity had begun to build. The chatter revolved around an upcoming event: the "Believe" Expo, a massive Christian themed superhero convention meticulously hosted by Vought. It was a clear PR stunt, a calculated move for Vought to corner the lucrative evangelical market. But I had no interest in the public-facing event. My focus was on the after-party.
According to a flurry of encrypted messages, Ezekiel was hosting a debaucherous party at a luxury hotel immediately after the main expo. It was an open secret within the Supe community, a clandestine gathering for the D-listers and the eager wannabes to indulge in every conceivable vice, all under the thinly veiled guise of "fellowship."
It was a target rich environment. A golden opportunity to harvest a massive amount of XP in a single night.
[A Supe orgy? Oh, this is gonna be disgusting,] the System commented, a hint of revulsion in its voice that was quickly overshadowed by its calculating side. [But also, very, very profitable. It's like a buffet of scumbags! A scumbagsbord!]
"Then let's start with the menu. I need a guest list," I thought, my mind already meticulously formulating a plan.
I seamlessly hacked the catering company for the event, then slipped into the hotel's reservation system, cross referencing names against my meticulously curated database of known Supes.
The list that populated on my screen was a who's who of has-beens and never-weres, a parade of mediocrity. I watched a few notable names scroll by. Ezekiel was a Tier 4. But killing the leader of a Vought-sponsored hero group at his own party would undeniably guarantee an investigation with real resources behind it, a level of scrutiny I was not yet ready for.
Popclaw was also on the invite list, a normal person for now. I knew she would later inject herself with Compound V. I could wait for a future opportunity, but her direct connection to A-Train made her far too risky at this stage.
And speaking of A-Train, his name appeared on a list of "potential attendees," a risk I was absolutely unwilling to take. Eliminating Z-listers was one thing and antagonizing a member of The Seven was a swift path to my own demise. I was not nearly confident enough to handle that level of heat. Not yet.