Grayson's eyes fluttered open to the blinding buzz of overhead lights. His head ached, his back pressed against the cold concrete of the workshop floor. The sharp scent of grease and burned oil hung heavy in the air.
"Oi, Jason!" A boot tapped his leg. "You plan on fixing cars in your dreams?"
He sat up sluggishly, blinking. Luis, broad-shouldered and with his always-oily cap, smirked down at him. Behind him, Benny and Carla snickered.
Benny chimed in with a laugh. "Man, if sleeping was a career, you'd be richer than all of us combined."
Carla crossed her arms, shaking her head. "It's pathetic, Jason. You come in late, you drink yourself stupid, and now you're snoring in the shop. This is a job, not your personal bed."
Their words hit hard, not because they belonged to him, but because they cut into the life he was borrowing.
Before Grayson could reply, another voice spoke up. A familiar one.
"Ease up, guys."
Sam. Jason's best friend—or rather, the best friend whose memories Grayson had seen in those strange dreams. Sam's eyes held concern instead of mockery. He crouched down in front of him. "Jason, man… what's going on with you? You've been broke for weeks. Every paycheck you blow it on beer and smokes. You think Sophie's gonna eat cigarettes for dinner?"
The name made Grayson freeze. Sophie. Jason's little sister. The girl he'd seen in the dream, her twelve-year-old laughter echoing like a bell.
Sam continued, softer now. "She needs you. She's still a kid. You're all she's got. You keep this up, you'll lose her."
Grayson lowered his head, not trusting his voice. He wasn't Jason—but in this world, Sophie was his responsibility.
And then—
The world trembled.
A sharp hum vibrated through the air, though none of them reacted. The shadows deepened. And right before Grayson's eyes, a rectangular screen slid into existence. Black, smoky edges curled around it, like mist frozen in glass. Words began to appear, one after another, glowing faintly.
[The Oblivion Protocol]
Integration Progress: 12%
His breath caught. He glanced around—Luis was walking back to the car, Benny laughing at something Carla said. Sam was still watching him, waiting for an answer. None of them could see it.
[Adaptation check complete.]
New directive: Stabilize host life. Prevent collapse.
"What the hell…" Grayson whispered under his breath.
Sam tilted his head. "What's that?"
"Nothing," Grayson muttered quickly, eyes flicking back to the words. The screen pulsed once, almost like a heartbeat, before fading into the air as if it had never been there.
Grayson clenched his fists. His borrowed body still reeked of smoke and mistakes. His new life was already fragile. And now the system wanted him to fix it.
The taste of smoke lingered in his mouth, bitter and stale. Grayson dragged himself up from the workshop floor, brushing dust off his stained overalls. His heart still hammered from what he'd seen—those words in the dark screen, glowing as if carved out of the void itself.
He wanted to dismiss it as exhaustion, or maybe a lingering nightmare from the strange dreams. But he couldn't. The memory of those burning letters was too sharp, too deliberate.
"Jason."
Sam's voice pulled him back. His friend leaned against the hood of a battered sedan, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with quiet worry.
"You gonna explain yourself, or just keep acting like nothing's wrong?"
Grayson swallowed. Sam's stare wasn't mocking like the others'. It was heavy, like a weight. He could feel Jason's life pressing in on him. The debts. The cigarettes. The beer-stained paychecks. Sophie, a twelve-year-old kid depending on him.
"I'm fine," Grayson muttered, brushing past him toward the nearest car. His hands itched to be busy, to prove he wasn't a wreck—even if he didn't know what he was doing.
Sam frowned. "Fine? You're passed out on the damn floor, Jay. You're flat broke. You spend every night drunk, every morning half-dead. And don't give me that 'fine' crap."
Grayson didn't look at him. He grabbed a wrench from the workbench, turning it in his hand like he knew what he was doing. "Look, I just… need to work. Okay?"
Sam exhaled sharply, frustration simmering. "Then work. But for once, do it sober."
Grayson bent over the open hood of a rusted pickup. His stomach twisted. He didn't know a damn thing about repairing this. He wasn't Jason. He was just Grayson, a man tossed into another's skin.
And then—
The hum returned.
Like a whisper just behind his ear, the rectangular screen slid back into view, hovering in front of him. Smoky edges curled, black mist pulsing faintly. The words rearranged themselves with cold precision.
[Assistance Protocol Activated]
Directive: Stabilize Host Occupation]
Skillset Alignment: MECHANIC (Intermediate locked)
Tutorial Mode: ENABLED
Grayson stiffened. The screen flickered, and suddenly the engine in front of him was highlighted. Lines traced across the metal, glowing faintly—like a blueprint drawn in midair. The wrench in his hand vibrated, and words appeared:
[Step 1: Remove corroded alternator belt.]
[Tool required: 14mm socket wrench. Location: Top drawer, left side.]
His eyes darted to the workbench drawers. Almost instinctively, he yanked the top drawer open and found the socket wrench exactly where the screen said it would be.
He hesitated.
Was this real?
Sam was still watching him, suspicion etched into his face. "You even know what you're looking at?"
Grayson forced a shrug. "Trust me."
He leaned into the hood, following the glowing overlay. His hands moved before doubt could stop them—unfastening bolts, slipping the belt free. The screen pulsed again.
[Step 2: Replace alternator belt. New part located: Storage shelf, third row, box labeled 'B2'.]
Grayson moved quickly, grabbing the box from the shelf. The others barely noticed—Luis was joking with Benny across the room, Carla hammering at a tire rim. Only Sam kept his eyes on him, arms still crossed.
Piece by piece, the steps guided him. And piece by piece, the engine came alive.
The truck roared when he turned the key.
The sound cut through the workshop like a thunderclap. Luis and Benny froze mid-laugh, Carla dropped her hammer. Sam blinked.
"No way," Luis muttered. "That piece of junk hasn't started in weeks."
Grayson forced a casual shrug, though his pulse thundered. "Guess it just needed the right touch."
But the screen didn't fade. It shifted, glowing brighter.
[Additional Opportunities Detected.]
[Nearby Vehicles: 6]
[Challenge: Repair sequence. Efficiency Bonus unlocked if completed under 30 minutes.]
Grayson's mouth went dry.
"Jason," Sam said slowly, stepping closer. "Since when do you work like… that?"
He didn't answer. His body was already moving, drawn by the cold authority of the screen. The next car—a sedan with a sputtering engine. Blueprints overlaid, instructions flowed.
[Step 1: Fuel injector clogged. Tool required: Injector cleaner spray. Location: Bottom shelf, yellow canister.]
Spray. Unbolt. Replace. The car coughed, then settled into a steady hum.
The next—a van with fried wiring.
[Step 1: Disconnect battery terminals. Tool required: Insulated pliers.]
Twist. Strip. Reconnect. The van's headlights flared to life.
One by one, the garage filled with sound—engines rumbling, lights flicking on, machines reborn under his hands. Grayson worked with fluid precision, each motion faster than the last. The System whispered instructions, but soon his muscles moved on their own. It felt natural. It felt like power.
The others gathered now, drawn by the impossible sight. Luis gaped, grease-streaked arms hanging limp at his sides. Benny muttered curses under his breath. Carla shook her head, disbelief etched deep.
And Sam—Sam just stared.
Twenty minutes passed. Six vehicles lined the garage, every one of them purring like new.
Grayson wiped his forehead, his body trembling with adrenaline. He'd never felt so alive. Never felt so… right.
The System's screen pulsed one final time.
[Tutorial Complete.]
[Skill Synchronization: MECHANIC (Proficiency 60% unlocked).]
[Directive Achieved: Host life stabilized.]
The screen dissolved into mist, leaving only silence behind.
Then—
"What the hell," Luis whispered, breaking it. "Who… who are you right now?"
Benny added, "I've seen you barely tighten a bolt without screwing it up. And now—now you're some kind of machine?"
Carla shook her head, almost in awe. "Jason… you fixed all of them. All of them. In one afternoon."
Sam didn't speak. He just looked at Grayson with that same quiet, searching gaze. Not disbelief. Not even suspicion. Something heavier.
Grayson forced a tired grin, tossing the wrench back onto the bench. "Guess I finally sobered up."
They laughed uneasily, but the tension in the room was sharp. No one quite believed him.
But Grayson didn't care. For the first time since waking in this body, he felt control. He wasn't lost. He wasn't powerless.
He was more.
---