Two weeks.I've been in this hell-hole for exactly fourteen days.My hands dont shake anymore.Well, they do, but only when I think about the smell.
Gotham Absolute Gotham is a buffet if you dont have a conscience.And apparently, my conscience is getting real quiet these days.Probably because it's being drowned out by the sound of my stomach.
I stayed low.Like, really low.I didnt go out looking for Jack Grimm.I didnt try to find Absolute Batman or whatever brooding tank is running around the rooftops.I just found the docks.The "Low-Level Filth," as the System calls them.
The first few nights were the hardest.I would find a group of "Red Hood" gangers—not the cool Jason Todd kind.The Absolute version.Guys who wore masks made of actual rusted metal and liked to torch orphanages for fun.I would wait in the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Then the "Hunger" would spike.My jaw would unhinge.My ribs would crack and expand until my hoodie ripped.(I went through a lot of hoodies those first few days. It gets expensive.)I would jump down, 15-feet of pale, hungry nightmare.They would scream.They would shoot.The bullets felt like raindrops against my "Stone Skin."
[Ding! Target Consumed. Gained: 5% Basic Marksmanship.]
[Ding! Target Consumed. Gained: 12% Low-Level Thug Endurance.]
[Ding! Target Consumed. Gained: 50% Street Knowledge of Gotham Docks.]
I hated it.I hated the way their essence felt like a hot meal.I hated the way I started to look forward to the crunch.But after a week, the anxiety started to fade into a dull, numb ache.I wasnt a person anymore.I was a predator.A predator with a very specific diet.
I started "collecting."Every time I ate a gang leader, I'd find their stash.Crates of untraceable "Grimm-Coins."Stacks of dirty cash that smelled like tobacco and Fear Gas.I didn't care about the ethics of stealing from dead criminals.I needed a roof over my head that wasn't a damp pier.
By the end of the second week, I had enough.I found a place in the "Old Reservior" district.It's the kind of neighborhood where people dont ask why a pale kid is carrying a duffel bag of cash.The apartment was on the 12th floor of a building that looked like it was held together by spite.The landlord was a guy named "Guts."He had one eye and a bionic arm that sparked every time he breathed."Three months up front,"
Guts grunted, looking at my hoodie.I handed him a stack of bills.He didn't even count them.He just tossed me a rusted key and walked away.I walked into the apartment and locked the door.It was small.It had a kitchenette that looked like a crime scene and a bed that felt like a brick.But it was mine.I slumped against the door, sliding down to the floor.
I looked at my right hand.The Black Hand energy was swirling under my skin like ink in water."I have a house," I whispered to the empty room.I started laughing.It was a high, jagged sound that sounded way too much like my "Father."
I clapped my hand over my mouth to stop it.I wasn't Jack Grimm.I was... I was Jack.Just Jack.I walked over to the window and looked out at the skyline.The Absolute Gotham towers were like teeth biting into the purple sky.
Somewhere out there, the real monsters were playing god.The heroes were fighting for a world that was already dead.And I was in the middle, eating the scraps.I opened the fridge.It was empty, obviously.But I wasn't hungry for "normal" food anymore.Pizza tasted like cardboard.Steak tasted like ash.The only thing that made my cells hum was the filth.
[System Update: Host has established a 'Lair'.]
[New Objective: Expand Territory.]
[Warning: Local Apex Predators are noticing the disappearance of their 'Livestock'.]
I ignored the screen.I walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.I looked in the mirror.My eyes... they were changing.They weren't brown anymore.They had a faint, sickly purple ring around the pupil.And my teeth felt sharper, even when I wasn't transformed.
"Two weeks," I muttered, gripping the sink."I've survived two weeks."I thought about the kids back on Earth-Prime.The ones who were probably arguing about the latest Absolute Batman issue right now.They didn't know.They didn't know how heavy the air was here.
They didn't know what it felt like to have your bones break every time you got hungry.I walked back into the main room and lay down on the bed.The Black Hand energy felt warm today.Like a companion.It whispered things to me in the back of my mind.Ideas for constructs.Visions of the "Absolute" Hal Jordan—the one who gave up his soul for the Ring.
I could feel his power, his Will, merging with my own.If I was going to stay low, I needed more than just a house.I needed an identity.Not just "The Bastard Son."I needed to be something the "Absolute" world feared.
I closed my eyes and fell into a dreamless, heavy sleep.I woke up four hours later to the sound of scratching at my door.It wasn't a person.It was too fast.Too rhythmic.I stood up, my "Stone Skin" instantly hardening under my skin.
I didn't reach for a weapon.I was the weapon.I walked to the door and looked through the peephole.There was nothing there.Just the empty, flickering hallway.But then, I looked down.A small, purple flower was sitting on the floor.
A "Grimm-Lily."The kind my Father grew in his private gardens.My blood turned to ice.He knew.He didn't know who I was, but he knew something was eating his men.And he was leaving a "gift."
"Fine," I growled, my jaw unhinging just a fraction."You want to play, Dad? Let's play."I picked up the flower and crushed it in my Black Hand.The petals didn't just break.They turned to dust.I had a house.I had a power.And now, I had a target.The "Stay Low" phase was officially over.