The heavy door of Room 7 clicked shut behind Ace. He leaned against it, the rough wood digging into his back. The silence inside was thick, broken only by the familiar drip… drip… drip of the leaky faucet. It sounded louder now, like a clock ticking down the seconds.
Fourteen days.
The System's words burned in his mind: Stop Deke Permanently. Penalty: Permanent -20% Strength & Coordination. The image of his hands fumbling with tools, his legs refusing to move right – it was a nightmare. He couldn't let that happen. Handyman jobs were safe, but they were slow. Too slow. He needed money, fast money, and a lot of it.
He looked at his toolbox sitting near the bed. It represented the life he'd started building – fixing faucets, dryers, windows. It felt solid, real. But Deke's threat made it feel small. Fragile. He needed something more.
His eyes drifted to the small wad of cash in his pocket. $207.35. And $411.50 locked in the System. It was more than he'd had in weeks, but it wasn't enough to fight Deke. Not even close.
The Neural-Interface hummed softly. It wasn't giving him answers, just waiting. Ace pushed off the door. He needed to use it differently. Not just for fixing things, but for finding things. Opportunities. Money.
He spent a restless night going over possibilities in his head, the System offering cold calculations of risk and time. By morning, he had a plan. It was risky, maybe stupid, but it was the only path he saw.
Sunlight streamed through the dusty window of the public library. Ace sat at a computer tucked away in a quiet corner. He'd used some precious cash for bus fare to get here, away from the Nite Owl and prying eyes.
He logged into the computer. His target: a cheap, bare-bones website for day trading. He'd heard whispers about people making fast money on stocks, but it always seemed like gambling. Now, it was his only shot.
He pulled out his small stack of cash. $207.35. He couldn't risk it all. He set aside $50 for emergencies – food, bus fare back. The rest, $157.35, was his ammunition.
He focused his mind. The Neural-Interface flickered to life, connecting silently to the computer. It wasn't hacking, not exactly. It was more like letting the System see the numbers, the charts, the frantic buying and selling happening every second.
[Scanning Volatile Micro-Cap Stocks], the System reported silently. [Identifying High Probability Short-Term Fluctuations. Risk: High. Reward: Moderate.]
Words and numbers flashed across Ace's vision, too fast for a normal person to read. The System highlighted two tiny, almost unknown companies. Their stock prices were jumping up and down like crazy.
"Buy 100 shares of 'Zeta Labs' NOW. Sell in 17 minutes," the System instructed, the words appearing clearly in his mind.
Ace's fingers flew over the keyboard, guided by the System's speed. He bought the shares. His heart pounded as he watched the tiny number representing his money tied up in this gamble. Minutes crawled by. The stock dipped slightly. Sweat prickled on his neck. Then, it jumped up sharply!
"Sell NOW," the System commanded.
He hit the sell button. The screen updated. He'd made $42! Relief washed over him. It worked!
Encouraged, he tried again. The System pointed him to another stock. "Buy 150 shares of 'Nova Mining'." He did. This time, the stock dropped instead of rising. Panic flared. "Hold," the System insisted calmly. Ace clenched his fists, forcing himself to wait. After agonizing minutes, it crept back up, just enough. "Sell." He sold, making only $15, but it was profit.
He tried a third time. This stock plummeted almost immediately after he bought it. The System gave no warning. "Sell immediately. Loss unavoidable." He sold quickly, losing $30. The loss stung. Trading wasn't magic. It was risky, and the System couldn't control everything.
After an hour of tense focus, his nerves felt frayed. He logged out. He counted his day trading money: Started with $157.35. Now: $157.35 + $42 + $15 - $30 = $184.35. A profit of $27. It wasn't a fortune, but it was faster than fixing a dryer. Total Cash Now: $50 (emergency) + $184.35 = $234.35.
Next, Ace turned to a different kind of hunt. He navigated to a website full of small job listings – people needing help with computer tasks. He scanned the list, the Neural-Interface sorting them instantly.
[Task Identified: Debug Simple Website Form. Payment: $50. Estimated Time: 45-90 mins (User Skill Level).]
Ace clicked on it. A small business owner needed a contact form on their website fixed – it wasn't sending messages. The instructions were messy, but the Neural-Interface analyzed the problem code instantly.
"Error in line 47. Missing quotation mark. Correction: Add closing quotation mark after 'email'," the System stated.
Ace opened the online code editor linked to the job. Normally, finding a tiny mistake like that could take ages. With the System pointing it out? It took seconds. He fixed the quotation mark, tested the form – it worked! He submitted the fix. Within minutes, the $50 payment was confirmed in his account. Easy money, thanks to the System's brainpower.
Feeling a surge of confidence, Ace looked for another quick gig. He found one: "Optimize product images for online store - 50 images. $30." Simple. The System could guide him on resizing and compressing pictures quickly.
He downloaded the first batch of images. As he started working, focusing through the Neural-Interface on the task, a weird glitch happened. His focus slipped for a split second. Instead of sending the optimized images back to the job platform, the System accidentally triggered a command based on a stray thought about the stray cats near the Nite Owl.
Suddenly, fifty pictures of garden tools were replaced by fifty pictures of grumpy-looking cats and posted directly onto the client's live online store product pages!
Ace stared at the screen in horror. "No, no, NO!" he whispered frantically. The client would be furious! He scrambled, using the Neural-Interface at full speed to delete the cat pictures and re-upload the correct, optimized tool images before the client even noticed. It took three frantic minutes, his heart hammering. Crisis barely avoided. He got the $30, but it was a stark reminder: the System was powerful, but mistakes could be disastrous.
He took a break, breathing deeply. The library air felt stuffy. He checked his totals:
Day Trading Profit: +$27
Coding Job: +$50
Image Job: +$30
Total New Cash: $107
Previous Cash: $234.35
GRAND TOTAL CASH: $341.35
It was progress. Solid progress. $341.35 felt much better than $207. But it still wasn't the big score he needed to crush Deke. He needed a phone. Relying on library computers was slow and risky. He needed to be mobile, connected.
On his way back to the Nite Owl, Ace stopped at a discount electronics store. He found the cheapest, most basic prepaid cell phone he could find – a small, rugged-looking thing with a tiny screen. It cost $35, plus $20 for a prepaid card with some minutes and data.
He paid with his hard-earned cash. New Cash Total: $341.35 - $55 = $286.35.
Back in Room 7 as dusk fell, Ace powered on the cheap phone. It felt light and flimsy in his hand, but it was a lifeline. He programmed the few numbers he knew – no one to call yet, but it was a start.
He looked at the remaining cash: $286.35. And the System funds: $411.50. He was building resources. But the fourteen-day clock kept ticking in his mind.
He stared at the simple phone. It wasn't just for calls. It was his connection to opportunities. To information. To fighting back.
"I need to be ready," Ace murmured to the empty room. The drip from the faucet answered him. Ready for what, exactly? He wasn't sure yet. But he knew the small repair jobs were over. Tomorrow, he would use the phone. He would use the System. He would hunt for the big break he desperately needed. Deke wouldn't win. Ace wouldn't let his body be broken by the System. He had thirteen days left. The real hustle had just begun.