Money didn't erase gravity.
It attracted it.
Luke felt it before he saw it—the subtle shift in how people looked at him, how conversations paused half a second too long, how Kash started hovering closer than usual.
Success on the South Side didn't go unnoticed.
It got tested.
Kash and Carry
Kash was pacing the alley behind the convenience store, voice low, eyes sharp.
"Big wholesale cash-and-carry on Halsted," he said. "No alarms worth shit. Owner skims taxes. Keeps cash in the back safe. Easy."
Luke didn't respond immediately.
A heist.
Old world logic.
Fast money. Dirty hands. Collateral damage.
Exactly the kind of move that followed sudden success.
"And why are you telling me?" Luke asked.
Kash hesitated. Just enough.
"Because you're smart," he said. "And because people think you got lucky. This proves otherwise."
Luke understood the subtext.
Participate, or be targeted.
He nodded once. "Show me the layout."
Aura Suppression
That night, Luke stood across the street from the store, hoodie up, breathing slow.
The System stirred.
He invoked a subtle technique he'd learned the hard way across worlds—not invisibility, not illusion.
Aura Suppression.
The deliberate shrinking of presence.
Shoulders relaxed
Gaze unfocused
Breathing uneven
He became forgettable.
A passerby.
Someone your eyes slid off without registering.
Power wasn't always projection.
Sometimes it was absence.
Inside the Store
The back door opened easier than expected.
Luke didn't touch the safe.
He didn't touch the cameras.
He touched the problem.
While Kash and the others focused on cash, Luke moved to the office terminal—old, unsecured, laughably primitive.
Five minutes.
That's all it took.
He copied transaction logs.
Adjusted timestamps.
Redirected suspicion.
When the owner checked his books later, nothing would point outward.
It would point inward.
Greed cannibalizing itself.
The Solution
Luke rejoined the group as they counted bills.
"Enough," he said calmly.
Kash frowned. "There's more."
"There's exposure," Luke replied. "Take this and walk."
His tone carried weight—not dominance, but certainty.
They listened.
Because certainty was rare.
Aftermath
The next day, police showed up at the store.
Not for robbery.
For tax fraud.
The owner panicked.
Lawyers descended.
The cash vanished into evidence.
No one looked for thieves.
Luke's Line in the Sand
That night, Kash confronted him.
"You could've taken more."
Luke met his eyes.
"I took what I needed."
"And what's that?"
"Distance."
Kash laughed, uneasy. "You're different."
"Yes," Luke agreed. "So don't test it."
Aura Restored
Back in the quiet room, Luke exhaled and let his presence return—controlled, contained, precise.
The heist had been avoided in spirit, redirected in outcome.
No victims.
No blood.
No regret.
But the message was sent.
Luke Gallagher was not prey.
And not a partner.
He was something else entirely.
Something the South Side would learn to leave alone.