Nate’s head was a wreck. Nothing made sense.

He’d seen the tunnel collapse. He’d been there. Tried to escape. Couldn’t. Then something—a Control System, was it? His memory was foggy there. It showed up. Did something. Made him stop the tunnel from collapsing. Saved him.

And then he blacked out.

When he woke up? Nothing. Tunnel was fine. Scanners said so. Engineers backed it up. Workers shrugged. No damage. No collapse.

Great. So now he was the idiot who panicked over nothing and threw himself at walls for fun.

What about the time freeze? The power rush? That energy that felt like lightning in his veins?

Nope. Didn’t happen, apparently.

Well, then what the hell did I feel?

Nate wanted to scream. Just stand up in this bus and let it rip. But people would stare. Maybe film him. Definitely kick him out. Walking home wasn’t on the to-do-list tonight.

He sighed instead. Long. Loud enough for the lady next to him to glance over.

“This isn’t working,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. His voice carried just enough self-pity to be annoying, even to himself.

Still better than screaming.

Nate leaned back. Stared out the window. Darkness outside. His own blank eyes stared back.

“I need a new perspective,” he said to himself.

He shut his eyes. Traced his steps. Back to the beginning.

The cry. He’d heard it and ran. Someone needed help. He reached out, grabbed a hand—except it wasn’t a hand. It turned into black goo.

What the hell was that?

The goo jumped at him. His leg slipped. He hit the ground. Hard. Did he black out there? Maybe. Probably.

Where did the goo go? No idea.

But when he opened his eyes, there it was—the Control System? A glowing screen in front of him. It gave him the powers to stabilize the collapse—

Wait. Hold on.

System. That’s what it was called. An actual system? A real system?

Did he have one now? Holy shit.

Nate’s eyes snapped open. “That’s it!”

It explained everything. The powers. The repaired tunnel. The impossible stuff. That’s what systems did, right? They made the impossible... possible.

But then again, systems usually showed up when you were a kid. Between five and ten, tops. Nobody got one at twenty-six. Nobody.

Nate leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Come on, this can’t be real.”

What would his system even be called? Not a hero system. Not a villain system. A Control System? Seriously? Did something like that even exist?

Doubt crept in. But how else do you explain all this?

Nate sighed, then shrugged. Fine. No harm trying.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, hello? System? If you’re there, now’s a great time to show up buddy.”

Silence.

“System?”

Still nothing. Except for the side-eye from the lady next to him.

Nate gave her a sheepish grin and scratched his head. “Figures. Stupid wiki page—”

A translucent screen flickered to life in front of him.

Nate flinched, mouth hanging open as words scrolled across the screen:

‘Hello System’ is not recognized as an internal or external command.

‘System’ is not recognized as an internal or external command.

Perhaps, you are looking for Control Center?

Nate swallowed hard. His chest tightened. “Uh... Control Center?”

The screen expanded.

Welcome to Damage Control System!

---- Control Center ----

User: Nathan Morgan

Level: 1 / Rank - F

Profession: Damage Controller

– Resources –

Health: 138 / 170 (2/min)

Stamina: 167 / 200 (4/min)

Mana: 83 / 100 (1/min)

– Stats –

Appeal: 14

Endurance: 20

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Vigor: 17

Strength: 16

Dexterity: 14

Intelligence: 19

Perception: 12

Mana: 10

– Skills –

Hivemind - 1

Time Stop - 1

Stabilization Sequencer - 1

Magnetic Shift - 1

Death Punch - 1

Structural Awareness - 1

----

Nate blinked. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure. He even rubbed his eyes. Nope. Not hallucinating.

The screen floated there. Waiting.

He turned to the woman beside him. Patting her shoulder, he said, “Ma’am, ma’am—can you see that?” He jabbed a finger at the screen.

“See what?” She frowned. “Air?”

“The screen!”

“Screen? What screen?” She shoved his hand away. “Stop touching me!”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Nate said, pulling back. But he couldn’t stop grinning. Trademark of systems: only the user could see it. Only he could see it. Shit. Shit. I’ve got a system!

His grin widened. His chest heaved with excitement, unable to contain. The woman stared at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Hey!” she shouted.

“Shit!” Nate shouted back.

He shot out of his seat, arms flailing, and shoved his way down the packed aisle.

“Move! MOVE!”

Passengers stared, some shouting back, others panicking as he banged on the bus doors.

The driver hit the brakes. Hard.

The bus lurched, tires screeching as it skidded to a stop. The doors hissed open.

Nate stumbled out, barely catching himself before he hit the sidewalk. He dropped to his knees, gasping.

People around him stared. Muttered. Kept their distance.

His chest heaved, his pulse pounded in his ears.

He looked up at the empty air, eyes wild, and screamed. “I have a SYSTEM! A bloody SYSTEM!”

And then he laughed. Loud, manic, borderline unhinged.

The crowd gave him even more space.

Someone shook him.

Nathan didn’t care. He laughed, hands reaching toward the sky.

They shook him harder. “Nate!”

Didn’t register. His mind was somewhere else—his family. His parents, his sister. Finally, justice. Finally, peace.

“Nathan!” Louder this time. Grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

Just as he started to turn—slap!

His cheek burned. His head hit the pavement. Pain shot through his skull, snapping him back to reality.

Nathan blinked. Gabe stood over him, face full of worry. Around them, a dozen passersby gawked. The bus passengers, too, spilling onto the sidewalk. Some glared. Others filmed. A few were on their phones, maybe calling the cops, or worse, the association.

Nathan groaned. Shook his head. Clarity returned. He forced a grin, wide and stupid. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Just a little... panic attack.” He waved his arms like that explained everything. “Nothing to see here, folks.”

The crowd didn’t buy it. But they scattered anyway. Slowly.

“You’re definitely not fine,” Gabe muttered. He grabbed Nathan’s shoulder, grounding him. “I told you to see a doctor. You didn’t go. And now look at you. What were you even yelling about…”

Nathan barely heard him. His eyes darted to the bus and back to Gabe. “How’d you even—”

He spotted it. Gabe’s bike, parked right in front of the bus. Of course. Probably on his way to his other job. Such a hard working guy.

Nathan exhaled sharply. “Right. Okay. Thanks for the, uh, slap.”

Gabe frowned. “Nate—”

Nathan cut him off with a wave. “No time, buddy. I’ve got... things. Big things.”

“Big things? Like screaming on the sidewalk?”

Nathan grinned, already stepping away, running. “Exactly. Stay tuned.”

Gabe watched him go, looking like he wanted to throw another slap his way.

* * *

By the time Nate reached his apartment complex, the buzz was fading.

He hit the stairs, and it was gone.

At his door, he punched in the code. Turned the key. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Cold air hit his face like a slap. The balcony was wide open.

Reality crashed down.

Nate stepped inside. Let the door shut behind him with a groan. The bag slid off his shoulder and hit the corner with a thud. He didn’t even bother with the lights. Just slumped to the floor, back against the sofa.

The room was still. No curtains. No warmth. Just cold air drifting in from the balcony and the faint glow of the city below.

He stared at the sky. Cloudy. The moon barely pushed through, dim and distant. Watching.

It was the same kind of night. Twelve years ago.

That night.

He could see it like it was yesterday. The table. The chocolate cake Mom had baked, perfect and lopsided. Dad fiddling with the old camera, cursing under his breath about angles. Eli—grinning ear to ear, darting around the room like a little tornado, showing off for Triss. His girlfriend back then.

And Triss—sitting there, smiling, egging Eli on as she went on about the tooth fairy and her missing teeth. She’d been a pain in the ass, pestering her until Mom snapped. Then the tears. Dad swooping in to calm her down. That had been their routine.

And then they’d all gathered around the table. Nate had felt like a complete idiot. Fourteen years old, and they still treated him like a kid. In front of Triss, no less. And she’d loved every second of it.

Now the memory made him smile.

The candles flickered. They’d all said, Happy Birthday!

And then—

BOOM.

A flash. A roar.

And everything was gone.

His family. His home. His world.

Burned to ash.

The memory sent a chill down his spine.

That night, he swore they’d pay. Every last one of them. Take everything, just like they’d taken from him.

Every night since, he’d planned. Obsessed. Ran every scenario through his head, over and over. But no plan ever worked. They were untouchable.

Untouchable.

Until now.

Nate leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the sliver of moonlight cutting through the clouds.

A system.

The thing that turned nobodies into heroes. Or villains. Something so rare, so impossible, it might as well have been a myth for him.

And now, it was his.

Nate chuckled. Ran a hand through his hair. Exhaled slow, steady. “Control Center,” he said.

The system window blinked into existence, blue against the dark.

He scanned it, top to bottom. Most of it clicked—years of geeking out over systems had sharpened his instincts. But there were gaps. Big ones. Damage Control System? His title as a Damage Controller? No class. No blessing. No offensive skills.

It didn’t add up.

This system was... different. Really different. Not that he minded. But it got him thinking. How did I even get this thing?

His first thought: the black goo. That weird, pulsing sludge. What exactly was it?

“It was me,” a voice answered. Calm. Crisp. Out of nowhere. “I chose you, Nathan.”

Nate froze. His pulse spiked. That voice. He knew it. He’d heard it before.

“System?” he asked, eyes darting around.

“My apologies,” the voice said, smooth, eerily polite, with a faint feminine tone. “I haven’t introduced myself.” A pause, deliberate. Precise. “I’m Vega. Your Damage Control Assistant.”

Nate stayed still, heart thundering.

“My role,” she continued, “is to guide you toward our shared objective and provide support when needed—like I did during your escape in the tunnel. You adapted remarkably fast, Nathan. Most don’t. Be proud of that. Don’t beat yourself over it.”

The tunnel. The collapse. So it had gone down. And he’d fixed it?

“I was losing my mind over nothing,” he muttered, letting out a breath. A faint smile crept onto his lips—until it hit him.

How did Vega know he’d been beating himself up about it?

“Of course I know,” Vega replied, as if reading his mind—which, apparently, she was. “We need to stay in sync, Nathan. To work as one. I simply... listened.”

A chuckle followed. Warm, almost playful. Too human.

It sent a chill up his spine.

“Uh... thanks,” Nate said. He wasn’t sure what to feel.

Happy? He had a sentient assistant in his head, reading his thoughts, acting on them.

Or scared? He had a sentient assistant in his head, reading his thoughts, acting on them.

“You can count on me. Always,” Vega replied, her voice bright, bubbly.

That wasn’t comforting.

“Now,” she continued, the cheer fading, replaced by a sharper, more clinical tone, “since we’re now well and truly acquainted, shall we get down to business?”

“Business?”

“You want revenge, Nathan. On the bugs. The ones who call themselves Heroes and Villains,” Vega said flatly.

Nate furrowed his brows. Bugs? That was one way to put it.

“And I,” Vega continued, calm but firm, “want to eradicate damage. Caused by these bugs, mostly. Restore balance. Fix what’s broken.”

She paused. Let it sink in.

“I think we can work together. Don’t you agree?”

Nate stayed quiet, staring into the dark.

Revenge? Sure, it sounded great. But the assistant in his head had a mission too. And she wasn’t asking.