[A Gamer in Gotham]—❈—14:: In Which Plans Are Made

“Thank you,” she says suddenly then sighs. “I'm not used to saying it, and I'm terrible at it but…” her eyes meet mine in low light. “Thank you, Eugene.”

I nod. “You're welcome.”

Keisha exhales like she's been holding it in for a while.

“Goodnight,” she says.

“Goodnight,” I say back and watch her walk away.

—❈—

*smack* *smack* *pa-pa-papa-pa-pa-pow*

I stand watching Keisha, eyebrows raised and just a little envious, as she does her morning “training”.

And it is “training”; those quotes are absolutely crucial, because this is the kind of shit that only anime characters, or those fitness nuts on TikTok consider to be training.

See, Keisha is doing some sort of unholy version of burpees, where, instead of a push-up and a small jump like a normal person, she does a full twist 360 backflip, goes down in a one arm push-up, and then lands several rapid-fire attacks on one of those stick figure things the Wing Chun people use for training. Bare-knuckled.

“Oh, hey, guys,” she says, noticing us. “Sleep well?”

Annie and I share a look.

“Did you?” I ask back.”Cause you look like someone pissed you off in your sleep.”

Keisha rolls her eyes like I'm being ridiculous. As though I'm the one doing Tekken training on the rooftop at the unholy hour of 6:30 on a cold, foggy morning.

I mean, I get that she's a martial artist, and that with her stats she clearly has to do more than regular jogging, but when Annie had woken me up this morning, asking me with some worry if I knew where her sister had gone, I hadn't, for one moment, thought we would find her on the rooftop training like a shonen protagonist during the timeskip.

Craziest part is, from the looks of things, she didn't just start either. My guess is she's been here an hour, maybe more.

“Wait, do you train like this everyday?” Annie asks.

Keisha shrugs. “Kinda. I mean, the Thunder Heaven Style isn't gonna learn itself,” she says.

“The Thunder Heaven Style?” I ask. “Seriously?”

Keisha looks like she would blush if she could.

“Shut up,” she says, though without heat.

Annie and I laugh, and then I take a moment to observe the rooftop; weights, a pull-up bar, chains, this is clearly a low-cost, home-made gym that's seen a lot of use.

In one corner, a notice a small stool… the kind of stool that an old man, too frail to stand for long, might sit on while coaching his young student.

I observe Keisha, and through the sweat and the endorphins of a good workout, I see it, the sad student honouring her master in the only way she knows how.

Annie must see it too, because she asks; “How long did he train you?”

“A year and three months,” Keisha answers, then she laughs: “He said I barely have the martial talent of a fish. And when I asked him why he didn't go and teach a fish instead, he said that he would have, but communicating with the fish would be too much work.”

She sighs and looks around the rooftop.

“Did you master it?” I ask. “The style?”

I mean, I don't know much about martial arts, but a year and three months doesn't seem like anywhere near enough time to master a fighting style.

Keisha snorts. “Fuck no,” she says, then adds after a moment; “Hiroshi-sensei left a manual.” And to that she adds nothing else.

I don't push. Instead, I ask; “Can you show us some moves?”

Keisha eyes me, then, after a moment, she agrees. “Sure,” she says. “Come on.” She waves me over.

“Uh…” I hesitate. “Actually I was hoping you could show us some moves. Like, shadowbox and whatnot,” I elaborate.

Keisha scoffs. “Pussy,” she teases playfully. “Come on, I won't bite. I promise.”

I believe her. Really, I do. But I also know that with my stats as they are, she might as well practice with a mannequin for all the resistance I'll be able to put up.

Ergo, I make an attempt to correct that.

Of my forty Stat Points, I throw twenty into CONSTITUTION, taking that up to 42, and my HP to 420. Then I put the rest in DEXTERITY (5→25).

Compared to Keisha's DEXTERITY of 56, her STRENGTH of 49, and CONSTITUTION of 58, I know my stats are still trash, but at least they're less trashy now, than they were a minute ago.

With a thought, [Outfit Customization] turns my outfit into a cool purple gi I remember seeing online sometime back.

“That's what you meant when you said clothes wouldn't be a problem,” she realizes.

“Yep. So, what do I do now?” I ask, approaching Keisha. “Do I just attack you?”

“Sure,” she shrugs, before settling into what I'm sure is a deceptively simple stance.

“Okay, then. Annie, remember me as I was.” And I rush into battle with a fist drawn back.

Keisha catches my sloppy punch, and in 1.2 seconds, I'm on my back staring up at a smirking Keisha.

She helps me up.

“That was surprisingly gentle,” I note.

“I told you,” Keisha says. “I don't bite. Not unless you want me to.”

I roll my eyes.

“Wanna go again?” she asks, and I agree.

Keisha and I go a few more rounds, all of which I lose completely, despite Annie cheering me on from the sidelines.

After my fourth flawless, and speedy, defeat, Keisha asks; “You’re not much of a fighter, are you?”

“Nope,” I agree easily. “I pride myself on talking my way out of problems.”

“And you're great at it,” Keisha says, then notes; “Your stamina isn't bad though. All that and you're not even breathing heavy.”

“I don't get tired,” I say.

Keisha pauses, eyeing me thoughtfully. “You mean that literally, don't you?” she asks after a moment.

I smirk, and Keisha mutters something about bullshit superpowers under her breath.

“What about you, Annie?” I ask of our audience of one. “Wanna trade pointers with Keisha?”

“Oh, no,” the blonde says quickly, “I have no delusions about how that will go.”

“Chicken,” I tease.

“Yeah, but at least, I'm a chicken who didn't get her ass kicked,” she fires back.

“Ouch. My pride.” I grab my heart dramatically.

Either because she was near done with her training, or because she found our presence too disruptive, Keisha calls it quits soon after we show up.

We spend the morning together, but during breakfast, Annie brings up a matter that I'd honestly mostly forgotten about; Kero and Gasoline.

Yesterday, I'd outlined a plan to Annie about getting in touch with the couple so we can use the opportunity to bug them, and Annie wants to know when I plan to execute it.

Like I said, I'd mostly forgotten about the whole thing, but now that Annie's brought it up, a plan quickly begins to form in my mind.

Yesterday, the arsonist couple had mentioned that Carter, or Kero, if you prefer, loved old things, and then, when we were out in the city for Annie's shopping, we'd passed by the museum, which had a sign announcing an ancient Egyptian exhibit in five days, on Saturday.

If that isn't serendipity, then I don't know what is.

I share my plan with Annie and Keisha, and neither gainsay it, or even have a potential alternative, so we decide to go with mine.

And what better time than right now.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Carter. Hi, it's Eugene. My girlfriend and I met you and your wife at that burning building yesterday.”

“I remember. What's up? How've you been?”

“Fine, just fine. Anyway, uh, so I remember your wife mentioning yesterday that you were into old stuff, and, well, Keisha and I saw an announcement for an ancient Egyptian exhibit at the Gotham Museum on Saturday.

“Keisha and I are going, and we figured we should invite you, since you're new in the city and don't really know people yet.”

“Oh, thanks,” Carter says. “That's great. I'd love—”

“Who's that, honey?” Susie's voice cuts in.

“It's Eugene,” Carter says.

“Oh, hello, dear,” Susie says, sounding clearer. “How's Keisha?”

“Keisha's fine,” I reply. “Hi, Susie, I was just asking your husband if you two would like a… double date I guess, with me and Keisha on Saturday. We're going to the Gotham Museum, they're having an exhibit there on ancient Egyptian artifacts.”

“Oh, that's a grand idea,” Susie says. “Thank you, dear.”

“Ah, it's nothing. Don't worry about it.”

“Nonsense,” Susie says, “it's everything. You know what? Why don't you come join us for dinner tonight? You and Keisha.”

Annie, Keisha (both listening to the call on speaker), and I all stare at each other, a single thought mirrored between us; no way. It can't be that easy.

One minute later, with the Whitfield's address in hand and Susie saying they'll be expecting Keisha and I by seven, I realize that yes, sometimes, it is that easy.

Especially when your targets are playing the role of the nice older couple with every fiber of their being.

After a round of goodbyes, I hang up.

I look at Keisha.

“Guess we're going to dinner,” she says.

—❈——❈——❈—

Eugene Berger’s Status Screen

Level 23 (1400/2300)

HP: 420 (regen: 8/min)

Money: ~ $44,000

Stat Points: 00

STRENGTH: 15 (+)

DEXTERITY: 25 (+)

VITALITY: 08 (+)

CONSTITUTION: 42(+)

CHARM: 45 (+)

SKILLS: [Gamer’s Body], [Observe], [Quest Generator], [PG mode], [Outfit Customization], [Sexy Defender], [Intimidate], [Cutlery-kinesis], [Skillbook Creation]