Mattheus sat on one of the stools at the bar counter, reading a manga.
Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
He had won the first volume from the Gacha the previous night, along with several other prizes.
After the huge tip Tony had given him before leaving, Mattheus’s finances were in a very good place, so he figured there was no harm in making a small investment.
He had only intended to buy ten tickets.
That had been the plan—a good, sensible, financially responsible plan.
He had even promised himself that he wouldn’t purchase a single ticket more.
Turns out, he was quite the liar.
After the first ten pulls, he bought another ten.
Then another ten.
And finally another ten, because stopping at thirty felt wrong.
Thirteen was an unlucky number, thirty had a three in it, and therefore buying a few more tickets was obviously the sensible thing to do.
He wasn’t superstitious, but there was no reason to risk pissing off any Gods of Luck and Fortune that might be watching.
That would have been irresponsible.
Mattheus managed to drag himself away from the Gacha after spending four grand, so it could have been much worse.
The previous time he had touched the Gacha, he’d spent every last SP he had, so this counted as personal growth in his eyes.
What didn’t count as progress was the Superman figurine curse.
Eight more of the damned things had joined the seventeen he already owned.
Mattheus had placed most of them on the shelves of his little office as a constant reminder of his own weakness, but one stood on the nearest shelf behind the counter, staring at him with its hands planted on its hips and a smug plastic smile on its face.
Mattheus narrowed his eyes at it.
“Don’t judge me.”
The figurine continued smiling.
“Smug bastard.”
Despite the continued invasion of cheap Superman merchandise, Mattheus had won several genuinely interesting prizes.
The manga was one of them.
He had never heard of Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
before, which was a little bit surprising considering just how much anime he had consumed over the years.
But there were only so many hours in a day, so…
Plus, this manga might not have come from his Earth anyway.
Different Earths didn’t always produce the same entertainment.
Some movies, books, games, songs, and television shows appeared across multiple universes, sometimes almost identical and sometimes with small differences.
Others didn’t exist at all.
Anne Hathaway, for example, didn’t exist in this world.
Or maybe she did and had chosen a completely different path in life.
Mattheus had no idea.
All he knew was that when a conversation about actors came up with a few of his customers and he mentioned her, nobody had the slightest clue who he was talking about.
And it wasn’t limited to actors.
Some famous writers had either never been born or had never become writers, so many books Mattheus had grown up with had never been written here.
The same went for musicians, directors, game developers, and pretty much every other form of entertainment.
It was strange to think that something could be known by millions of people on one Earth and not exist on another.
Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
was one of those cases.
Mattheus had never read it back home, so he had no idea whether it existed on his Earth or not.
But hey, good manga was good manga.
Mattheus turned the page and continued reading about Tsuna’s suffering.
The story had been entertaining so far, though the small baby carrying a gun raised several questions (how come only Tsuna realized how strange Reborn was?
Protagonist powers?).
The manga was a good prize, but far from the best.
After finishing the chapter, Mattheus put it aside and opened the app on his phone.
He navigated to the recently acquired section of his Inventory and selected the item.
A bow appeared on the screen.
It was sleek and mechanical, with limbs made from materials Mattheus could not identify (he was no expert, but just its looks alone were impressive).
Accrued Redemption.
The name alone sounded cool enough to be shouted dramatically during a final battle.
He tapped its description.
Accrued Redemption — 12,000 SP
Legendary kinetic compound bow originating from the Sol System of the late Golden Age/post-Collapse era.
Constructed using advanced materials and precision engineering far beyond contemporary Earth technology.
Exceptional power, stability, durability, and accuracy.
He had fired a bow a few times during a school camp when he was thirteen, and while most of his arrows had landed somewhere on the target, he was no Robin Hood, so his limited experience meant Accrued Redemption would be almost useless in his hands.
It was an exceptional weapon, but an exceptional weapon wielded by an incompetent idiot remained a useless weapon.
Besides, Tony had given him a shotgun for self-defense, and using that required considerably less finesse.
Point the dangerous end away from himself.
Keep his finger away from the trigger until he intended to fire.
Do not shoot the expensive furniture.
Simple.
Accrued Redemption was worth three times what Mattheus had spent on the Gacha tickets, and he could find a buyer willing to pay much more—maybe even a million or two, if he was lucky.
There were plenty of archers in this universe.
Green Arrow would probably sell one of his kidneys to acquire a bow built using technology from humanity’s distant future (not like he needed to, Oliver Queen is a billionaire after all).
Examining the weapon had also led Mattheus to an interesting realization.
Powers were expensive, but objects were much cheaper.
Even superpowers that barely qualified as superhuman could cost hundreds of thousands of SP, and anything truly powerful could reach into the millions, billions, or prices so absurd Mattheus suspected the Store was making fun of him.
But the Store had weapons, armor, potions, magical artifacts, and advanced technology capable of turning an ordinary human into a serious threat, many of which cost only a fraction of the cheapest superpower.
Mattheus did not intend to transform himself into a superhero.
Running a pub already consumed most of his time, and Gotham had more than enough vigilantes running across rooftops in colorful costumes but if he ever needed more protection, buying equipment might be far more practical than saving for a power.
Something to think about later.
The remaining useful prizes included a wooden case containing twelve bottles of Firewhisky and a large first-aid kit that looked semi-professional.
Firewhiskey wasn’t particularly expensive in the Store.
Some of the cheaper brands were affordable enough that most middle-class people could buy a bottle without thinking too much about it.
And these were not cheap bottles.
They came from a very expensive wizarding distillery, with each bottle costing 400 SP in the Store.
Considering he’d gotten twelve of them from a single Gacha pull, it was a pretty damn good win.
He wouldn’t add them to Crossroads’ drinks just yet.
Maybe sometime in the future, or after he unlocked another universe where selling magical alcohol wouldn’t raise quite so many questions.
For now, they would remain safely tucked away in his Inventory.
All but one.
One bottle he kept for himself—entirely for quality-control purposes, naturally.
All things considered, he had more than recovered the 4,000 SP he had spent.
Which had its own dangers.
Losing everything during his first Gacha disaster should have taught him a valuable lesson.
Granted, Exile had more than made up for all the SP he lost that night, but still, he got only junk afterwards.
Unfortunately, winning several expensive prizes with so few tickets had taught him the exact opposite lesson: gambling worked if you just kept doing it.
Mattheus closed the Store.
“No more tickets.”
The Superman figurine continued smiling at him.
“At least not this week.”
The front door flew open.
A person rushed inside, slammed it shut behind them, and pressed their back against the wood.
Mattheus stared.
Seriously?
Again?
Did the people of Gotham see his pub and instinctively recognize it as a good place to hide?
It had happened with Tim, then Holly, and now—
Mattheus blinked.
That was Robin.
Jason Todd stood against the door in his red, green, and yellow uniform, breathing heavily.
His cape was torn along one side, his suit was covered in dirt, and blood ran from a cut near his hairline.
A bruise was already forming around one eye, several smaller cuts covered his exposed skin, and he held one arm close to his chest.
He looked as if someone had thrown him through a wall—possibly more than one.
Mattheus pulled out his phone and locked the door through the app.
Seeing movement from the corner of his eye, Jason spun around.
A batarang appeared between his fingers so quickly that Mattheus almost missed the movement.
He raised it, ready to throw, only to freeze when he saw the young bartender standing several meters away with a phone in one hand.
Mattheus raised both hands.
“I just locked the door.”
Jason looked at the phone.
“Electronic lock,” Mattheus explained.
“That won’t do shit against that fucking beast.”
“The door is bulletproof,” Mattheus said.
It was considerably more durable than that, but bulletproof sounded more believable.
“It should hold.”
Jason glanced back at the door.
He did not look convinced, but no one smashed through the door during the following few seconds, so he slowly lowered the batarang.
Mattheus examined his injuries.
“Do you need medical care?
I’m not a doctor, but I have a first-aid kit.”
Jason wiped the blood from the side of his face with the back of one glove.
“I could use a drink.”
Mattheus chuckled.
“Maybe in a couple of years.”
“I’m over twenty-one.”
Mattheus gave him a flat look.
Jason could not have been older than fifteen.
“Only a couple of years ago, you were this small.” Mattheus held one hand slightly above his knee, indicating the height of a particularly short five-year-old.
Jason scowled.
“I wasn’t that short when I became Robin.”
“Of course not.
You were at least this tall.” Mattheus raised his hand by perhaps two centimeters.
“Fuck you.”
Mattheus chuckled, and he almost reached out to ruffle his hair.
He stopped himself before lifting his hand, but then decided that opportunities like this did not come often and did it anyway.
Jason stared at him in disbelief for half a second before slapping his hand away.
“I’m not a little kid!”
“All right, all right.” Mattheus stepped back, smiling.
“No need to get violent.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
“How old are you anyway?
You don’t look older than twenty.”
“I’ve worked in bars for about four or five years.”
That much was true.
Mattheus had started helping at the village bar when he was fifteen.
He had washed glasses, carried crates, cleaned tables, and occasionally poured wine or beer for locals when the owner was busy.
Spain had a considerably more relaxed relationship with alcohol than the United States.
As far as Mattheus understood, American law refused to let anyone under twenty-one so much as look directly at a bottle of beer in case they spontaneously became an alcoholic.
The legal identity he had purchased from the Store listed him as twenty-three, old enough to own and operate the Crossroads without raising questions.
Jason looked him up and down.
“No way you’re twenty-five or twenty-six.”
“I moisturize.”
Jason stared at him.
“And I have excellent genes.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“That too.” Mattheus gestured toward Jason’s injuries.
“Do you want the first-aid kit or not?
It has some really cool Batman bandages.”
Jason closed his eyes for a moment.
“I hate this city.”
Mattheus patted his shoulder before turning away.
“That sounds like a yes.”
He went into the kitchen and retrieved the first-aid kit from his Inventory.
The case was large enough that he needed both hands to carry it comfortably.
It was not the kind of equipment one would find inside an ambulance, but it had bandages, antiseptic, gauze, medical tape, disposable gloves, scissors, painkillers, cold packs, a small splint, and several other things Mattheus could not identify.
By the time he returned, Jason had left the door and moved toward the bar counter and the manga was in his hands.
He had opened it to the first few pages and was reading while standing beneath one of the lights.
“Pretty good story, right?” Mattheus asked.
Jason looked up.
“It’s okay.”
That, in teen language, meant he liked it.
Mattheus placed the first-aid kit on a table with a heavy thud.
Jason looked from the case to him.
“Where did you get that?”
“I won it in a raffle.”
Jason opened the case and examined the contents.
“And you’re sure this stuff is good?
Winning it in a raffle doesn’t mean it isn’t cheap garbage.”
“One of my customers is a paramedic.
He checked everything and said it was good.”
That customer did not exist but he could not exactly talk about the gacha.
Jason inspected the seals and expiration dates before deciding that the contents were trustworthy.
“Need help?” Mattheus asked.
“No.”
Jason pulled off one glove using his teeth and began treating a cut across his forearm.
Mattheus watched for several seconds.
The teenager clearly knew what he was doing.
Given how often Robin got punched, stabbed, shot at, thrown off buildings,…
basic medical care was probably something he mastered long ago.
PS: Someone asked if I have a Discord.