Masked Vigilante

Creator's Note: Thank you all for the votes. You guys are amazing. Please keep them coming.

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Three days had passed since the dramatic events at Sigma Chi's party, and Miles found his life irrevocably altered.

Walking through campus, he noticed the way people now looked at him. He had become a minor celebrity for two reasons: first, the viral video of him defeating Derrick in the impromptu rugby match had made Derrick a campus laughingstock and Miles a cool student; second, his actions during the fire at Sigma Chi's house had marked him as brave and selfless, having saved six people by darting into the flames multiple times before Superman arrived to put out the fire.

As he walked through the hallways, students greeted him with smiles, high-fives, and even flirtatious glances from several girls. Despite the positive attention, Miles couldn't shake the memories of that night.

He vividly recalled Superman arriving on the scene, the Man of Steel's powerful presence and how a single blow of cold wind put an immediate end to the flames that had overwhelmed the fire department. Superman had saved the day, but it hadn't stopped people from praising Miles's efforts.

What troubled Miles the most was the moment Superman had looked directly at him, his piercing gaze conveying a recognition that Miles couldn't quite understand.

It was as if Superman was silently saying 'I know you'. That look had lingered in Miles's thoughts since he knew well that this was different from his first time arriving in the DC universe.

The noise in the hallway grew louder as Sigma Chi himself made his way through, band-aids visible on his arms and face. Despite the injuries and the significant damage to his house, Sigma remained as charismatic as ever, smiling and reassuring his friends and well-wishers.

"Hey, Sigma! Sorry about the house, man," one student called out.

"Thanks, but don't worry about it. It's just one of my dad's many houses," Sigma replied, flashing a reassuring smile that seemed to lift the spirits of those around him.

As Sigma approached Miles, their eyes met, and a genuine smile spread across Sigma's face. "Miles, man, you're a hero. I can't thank you enough for what you did," Sigma said, extending his hand.

Miles shook his hand firmly. "Don't mention it, Sigma. I'm just glad everyone's okay."

Sigma nodded appreciatively. "You take care of yourself, alright? And thanks again for everything."

Miles watched Sigma walk away, feeling a sense of pride mixed with unease. The incident at Sigma Chi's had indeed changed things for him in ways he hadn't expected.

He was now seen as a hero and it was even more incredible because no one knew he had any sorts of superpowers since he saved people with his regular stats. They just felt he was a very brave guy and ladies found it attractive.

Miles on the other hand, couldn't activate any ability because the Dice was on cooldown. If not for the stats he had boosted earlier, he would have been completely helpless against the flames.

However, the cause of the fire remained a mystery, gnawing at the back of his mind.

As he continued down the hallway, he overheard snippets of conversations about the fire. Some students speculated it was an accident. Miles couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something more sinister might have been at work.

Later that day, Miles met up with Ron at the campus café. The place was bustling with students, but they managed to find a quiet corner to talk.

"Man, you're like a campus legend now," Ron said, grinning as he sipped his coffee. "Everyone's talking about how you saved all those people and beat Derrick. You've even got girls fawning over you."

Miles chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, it's been pretty overwhelming. But honestly, I can't stop thinking about that night. Something about the fire doesn't sit right with me."

Ron's expression turned serious. "What do you mean? You think it wasn't an accident?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but there's this feeling I can't shake," Miles admitted, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. 'And Superman gave me this weird look but I can't tell you that even though it's been bothering me ever since.'

"…I don't know, Ron. Something feels off."

Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, if you really think there's something more to it, maybe we should look into it. See if we can find out what really happened."

Miles felt a surge of relief at Ron's support. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

As they planned their next steps, the café's atmosphere buzzed with the usual hum of student life.

...

Miles spent the next several days engrossed in a rigorous routine that balanced school, work, and his burgeoning superhero life.

The Dice System kept him busy with a variety of tasks, each completion granting him points and sometimes a different type of reward. All of which he made sure to take note of for future use.

Each time he activated an ability, he made a point of heading to an abandoned scrapyard on the outskirts of the city, where he could train without prying eyes.

After school and work, Miles would change into old clothes and head to the scrapyard, the rusted hulks of cars and piles of scrap metal providing an ideal training ground. It was here that he honed his skills, learning the limits and strengths of each power.

Miles found himself repeatedly practicing with Superman's Lasers. Initially, he struggled with control, finding it difficult to aim and modulate the intensity without causing himself significant discomfort or splitting the ground in two.

However, with consistent training, he began to improve. He practiced aiming at various targets, adjusting the intensity from a focused beam capable of cutting through metal to a gentler, heat-based application.

One evening, as he aimed at a stack of old tires, Miles concentrated, feeling the energy build behind his eyes. "Come on, just a little more," he muttered to himself. A thin, precise beam shot out, slicing through the center tire without setting anything on fire.

He grinned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Getting better," he said to no one in particular, feeling a sense of accomplishment. But he still refrained from pushing the intensity too high, wary of the debilitating headaches it caused.

Gorilla Grodd's Intelligence proved to be a versatile tool. Beyond excelling in his assignments and class projects, Miles discovered he could use the ability to create technological devices from scraps.

One day, after finishing a particularly difficult engineering assignment in record time, he decided to try something new.

"Let's see what I can build," he mused, his mind buzzing with scientific theories and blueprints.

Over the next few hours, he constructed a rudimentary but functional gadget that could generate a low-level electromagnetic field. As he held up the finished device, he marveled at what his enhanced intellect allowed him to achieve.

"This could be useful," he said, stowing the gadget away in his backpack. "With more budget, I could definitely improve it in the future but damn, I'm broke as fuck."

Catwoman's Reflexes also received dedicated attention. Miles practiced agility drills, scaling the scrapyard's piles of metal and leaping from car roof to car roof with feline grace. His movements became more fluid and precise, each jump and roll executed with increasing ease.

"Who knew I'd be doing parkour in a scrapyard," he chuckled one evening, executing a perfect backflip off the hood of a car and landing in a crouch. The physicality of the training invigorated him, a welcome counterbalance to the mental demands of his academic life.

Bane's Heightened Physical Strength was a double-edged sword. While it granted him immense power, Miles found the transformation bulky and conspicuous.

He often wished he could retain his normal appearance while benefiting from the strength. Even so, he trained rigorously, lifting and throwing heavy objects around the scrapyard, feeling the raw power coursing through his muscles.

"Man, if only I could keep this strength all the time without looking like I'm on steroids," he joked to himself one day, lifting an old car chassis over his head and hurling it across the yard. The crash echoed through the scrapyard.

Since he could only activate an ability from the dice twice in twenty-six hours, Miles had to be strategic in how he used them.

He often found himself acting as a hero in the neighborhood, wearing a simple ski mask to conceal his identity. While far from a full superhero costume, it provided enough anonymity to protect his secret.

As a month went by, Miles's masked persona began to gain popularity in the city. People gave him all sorts of names since he didn't have an official one. Some said he was big and others said he was of moderate height.

One morning, he stared at a newspaper headline in disbelief.

"What? A masked vigilante? I'm no Batman," he muttered, reading the article that detailed how he had intercepted a van full of illegal weaponry and single-handedly taken down the criminals involved.

The article also mentioned that he sometimes collected rewards from those he helped, though he brushed that part aside.

"This is what happens when you don't have a superhero costume and a name," he sighed, shaking his head. "Guess it's time to come up with something more permanent."

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Creator's Note: We will be delving into a DC crisis soon involving many superheroes and Miles will be a participant. Feel free to drop any suggestions you have in the comments below.