Gimsa was a messenger sent by Gotham City's top crime family to purchase weapons. Stark Industries sold its hardware without restrictions; as long as you paid a premium, you could get whatever you wanted. Recently, a group of arrogant individuals had been operating in Metropolis and Gotham—self-proclaimed heroes who constantly disrupted gang operations, moving covertly and causing considerable trouble.
In a crowded bar, Gimsa was dancing with two incredibly tacky girls, managing to balance business with pleasure. He wanted to make money and have his way with women.
Arnold walked in wearing a mask specially made by his mother. He disliked the smoky atmosphere; compared to modern standards, this place was archaic, filled with neon lights and desperate people on the dance floor. Since he had just released everything into the Penguin's mother, Corinna, Arnold was currently in "saint mode." Having been drained of every last drop, he naturally had no interest in the women here. Even if given the chance, he wouldn't touch these prostitutes. He preferred clean, respectable women to those who had been with thousands.
Arnold sat at the bar, watching Gimsa on the stage as he silently ordered a vodka. Just then, a woman came over and ordered a cocktail. Her makeup was over the top, but her face was pretty and her figure was curvaceous. Despite his current state, her ample curves caught his eye—he could imagine how it would feel to take her from behind.
Lighting a cigarette and sipping his vodka, Arnold ignored the dancers and focused on Gimsa, who was laughing and groping the girls on stage. His consciousness retreated into the Exchange Shop. He had just completed the achievement for his encounter with his friend's mother and was rewarded with 100,000 points.
The description of the achievement sounded a bit outrageous to him. Adultery with a friend's mother? Corinna was a widow and it was consensual; calling it adultery felt like a stretch, but he wasn't going to complain about the points.
The 100,000 points made Arnold feel significantly richer. His eyes swept over the Super Soldier Serum listings:
Defective Version: 50,000 points
Captain Version: 200,000 points
Perfect Version: 1,000,000 points
The "Perfect" version piqued his interest. As his cigarette burned down, he lit another.
"Handsome, can I have a cigarette?" the heavily made-up woman next to him asked, extending a delicate hand. Without a second thought, Arnold handed one over, his mind still focused on the shop.
Perfect Super Soldier Serum: Strengthens the host's physique and reshapes body structure. Provides perfect adaptation to harsh environments and allows for stacking other serums without conflict. Greatly increases magic storage, provides immunity to toxins from civilizations below level three, and extends lifespan. Automatically repairs and strengthens the body after injury or illness.
This vial was far superior to the one Steve would eventually take. Arnold's goal was survival, and the shop was his key. Earning points was his only priority. He noticed an "improvement project" in the store: if he could obtain a standard Super Soldier Serum elsewhere, he could spend 300,000 points to upgrade it to the Perfect version.
His mind started racing. He remembered that in the original story, Steve's transformation left a single vial of serum behind. It was originally stolen by a Hydra agent. Why not intercept it? The creator, Dr. Erskine, would be killed, so mass production was impossible. This was a one-time opportunity.
Currently, his score sat at 130,000—still far from the million he needed for a direct buy, or the 300,000 needed for the upgrade. How could he earn more? He looked at Gimsa on the dance floor. If killing earned points, then doing it openly was impossible in the city. The only place to kill legitimately and frequently was the battlefield.
While Arnold was racking his brains, the chaos started. Gimsa was suddenly shot. A masked man fired at the target, but the bullet only hit Gimsa's thigh, failing to kill him instantly. The woman who had been at the bar put on a mask, drew a knife, and entered the fray. She was ruthless, slitting throats and dropping guards with terrifying precision.
Arnold watched as the man who fired the first shot pulled out a flamethrower, beginning a rampage of fire and death. The look was familiar to Arnold. Are these people from the Minutemen? The predecessors to the Watchmen? He wondered how they had ended up in New York instead of Gotham or Metropolis.
Seeing that his target was about to be taken or killed by someone else, Arnold waved his hand and activated his magic. Suddenly, Gimsa and his remaining underlings were engulfed in flames that appeared out of thin air. Arnold pushed the spell further, burning Gimsa until there was nothing left but charcoal.
Looking at the remains of his target, Arnold sneered. He slipped out of the bar with the panicked crowd, leaving behind bewildered guards and the two mysterious assassins.