Marvel: The Game of Talents

The two would-be muggers didn't have much of value.

Beyond some scattered cash, the most valuable items Ethan managed to scavenge were a smartphone and two bloody gold teeth. As for the AJ sneakers of questionable authenticity, their sour smell was so offensive that Ethan tossed them away in disgust.

Having resolved his immediate money problem, Ethan didn't linger. He flagged down a cab and set off for one of the locations provided in the intel.

After all, his basic survival depended on it. If he didn't secure some results soon, he'd likely be spending the next few nights on the streets.

As night fell, New York began to come alive. The streets were aglow with neon signs, car headlights, and the ever-present hum of activity.

In a quieter neighborhood on Manhattan's west side, an old taxi pulled up to the curb.

"This is the last spot," Ethan muttered as he stepped out. His tone carried a hint of irritation. "Damn it, Weasel's intel better not be garbage. I've checked all these locations and haven't even caught a glimpse of my target."

The entire day had been a frustrating grind. Ethan had practically circled New York, chasing ghosts. He began to wonder if Weasel had duped him or if his luck was just rotten.

Still, Ethan wasn't about to give up. He entered a dingy apartment building and took the elevator up to the floor specified in the briefing.

Inside the elevator, he went over his plan. His priority was avoiding attention—especially from any backup the target might have nearby.

Ethan's strategy was simple: find Jeff Mond, the gang member he'd been hired to kill, tail him until they reached a more isolated location, and take him out quietly. No witnesses, no loose ends.

The elevator chimed softly as the doors slid open. Ethan's thoughts came to an abrupt halt, his expression freezing.

Standing just outside the elevator were five burly men, all armed. Among them was Jeff Mond himself, holding a silver briefcase at the center of the group.

The Russians were clearly not expecting company. For a moment, everyone stared at Ethan, then at the pistol in his hand.

The tension in the air thickened.

Ethan forced a smile, trying to feign casualness. "Uh… if I say I'm just passing through, would you believe me?"

"Kill him!" someone shouted.

The Russians raised their guns in unison, and a barrage of bullets tore through Ethan's body, driving him backward. Blood spattered the elevator walls as the relentless gunfire pinned him against the back wall.

After a few seconds, the shooting stopped. Ethan slumped lifelessly to the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

Jeff Mond scowled. "Damn it, who is this guy?!"

"Maybe another gang caught wind of tonight's deal and sent him to interfere?" one of the men suggested.

"If that's the case, they're idiots for sending just one guy," another retorted.

"Forget him," Mond snapped. "Vladimir's expecting us to deliver. Let's get moving!"

The Russians filed into the elevator, stepping over Ethan's bloodied corpse as they descended. None of them noticed as Ethan's body began to twitch, his eyes snapping open.

He stood unsteadily, his wounds visibly knitting themselves back together. Golden bullets clattered to the floor as his body expelled them.

Raising his pistol, Ethan aimed at the backs of the departing Russians.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Five shots, five bodies. The Russians crumpled to the ground, leaving only Mond standing, wide-eyed and trembling.

Ethan stepped out of the elevator, his movements unhurried as he approached Mond. His wounds were fully healed, not even a scar left behind.

"Gotta hand it to this freakish self-healing," Ethan muttered, glancing at the game-like interface that only he could see. "Faster than both Deadpool and Wolverine. Nice."

But his satisfaction was short-lived. His gaze fixed on the system panel.

[Unlock Condition: Kill fifteen sinful villains (1/15)]

"...What?" Ethan frowned. "Only one? I just dropped five guys!"

Frustration boiled within him. Ignoring Mond for the moment, Ethan began cross-referencing his earlier experiments with the system's quirks.

After some thought, it hit him: out of the five gangsters he'd just taken down, only one of them actually qualified as a "sinful villain."

Ethan shifted his focus to Mond, who was shaking like a leaf.

[Target does not meet the conditions.]

"So even you don't count," Ethan muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.

The revelation left him with mixed emotions. On one hand, it clarified why his progress was so slow. On the other, it was deeply frustrating.

Mond wasn't just your average thug—his crimes ranged from gunrunning to drug trafficking to outright murder. By any reasonable measure, he was the textbook definition of a villain.

Yet somehow, the system refused to acknowledge him.

"This is insulting," Ethan grumbled. "To you and me both."

Mond whimpered, backing away.

Ethan sighed, lowering his pistol. "Relax, I'm not wasting another bullet on someone who doesn't count. Be grateful for small mercies."

He turned away, already plotting his next move. He had a long night ahead.