Marcus Hale didn't need to open the email to know he'd been fired.
He could feel it in the way his manager avoided eye contact that morning. He could feel it in the way his badge stopped working at the side door. He could feel it in the smirks from coworkers who had always found it funny that Marcus lived paycheck to paycheck.
But he opened the email anyway.
"We regret to inform you that your position at HorizonTech has been terminated effective immediately."
Marcus exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him like air from a punctured tire. No warning. No severance. No conversation.
Just gone.
Someone two cubicles away whispered:
"Bro is definitely about to ask someone for gas money."
Another voice answered, "He's been broke since orientation day."
Marcus ignored the laughter. He always did. Being broke was something people loved to joke about—until they were the ones living it.
He stood, gathered the few belongings from his desk, and walked out of HorizonTech with his cardboard box tucked against his chest.
No applause.
No sympathy.
No one even looked up.
He stepped into the Texas heat, walked across the parking lot, climbed into his beat-up Tacoma, and sat there with his forehead against the steering wheel.
Twenty-three years old.
Fired.
Bank account under fifty dollars.
Mom's medical bills overdue.
Sister needing help for college.
Rent looming.
Marcus whispered to himself, "I just wanted to help my family… why is everything so damn hard?"
His voice cracked on the last word.
He didn't cry. He refused to. But the pressure in his chest was close.
He turned the key. The truck sputtered like it was considering retirement, then reluctantly came alive.
He drove without direction, just letting the city swallow him, until the roads thinned and he reached a small, quiet park. He sat on a bench beneath a flickering streetlamp, the last orange light of sunset fading behind the buildings.
His phone was silent.
No job offers.
No opportunities.
No miracles.
Marcus leaned back and stared at the darkening sky.
"I don't need a miracle," he whispered. "I just need one chance. One. To change things."
The park fell silent.
Then—
The air around him seemed to tighten, like the atmosphere itself paused.
A pressure formed inside his skull—not painful, not loud, but unmistakably **there**. A presence. A hum. A vibration without sound.
Then a voice—calm, neutral, emotionless—spoke directly into his mind.
[USER IDENTIFIED.]
Marcus's heart slammed into his ribs. He shot upright, looking around wildly.
No one was there.
"…Hello?" he whispered.
Silence.
He rubbed his face. "Great. I'm losing it."
The voice returned, clearer this time, as if speaking from the inside of his consciousness.
[USER: MARCUS HALE.]
[STATUS: FINANCIALLY CRITICAL.]
[PROJECTED OUTCOME: FAILURE.]
Marcus froze. "What—who's saying that?"
The voice ignored the question.
[UNTAPPED POTENTIAL LEVEL: HIGH.]
[REQUEST FOR OPPORTUNITY DETECTED.]
Marcus swallowed. "I didn't request anything."
[INCORRECT.]
[VERBAL REQUEST LOGGED: "I just need one chance."]
Marcus's blood went cold.
"I didn't mean it literally."
[THE SYSTEM DOES NOT REQUIRE LITERALITY. ONLY INTENT.]
He stood from the bench, backing away like something physical was approaching him—but nothing was there. The voice wasn't coming from above, behind, or around him.
It was coming **from nowhere and everywhere at once**.
A projection only *he* could hear.
"…Okay," Marcus whispered. "If you're real—what are you?"
[INITIALIZING INTERFACE.]
A translucent blue panel flashed into existence in front of his eyes—floating in midair, untethered to any device. He stumbled backward, trembling.
"Okay… okay, I'm definitely losing it."
The interface remained.
[YOU ARE EXPERIENCING NO HALLUCINATIONS.]
[THIS IS A SYSTEM.]
"A system? Like—a video game? A novel? What kind of system?"
The panel expanded.
**BUSINESS ACQUISITION SYSTEM — VERSION 1.0**
Assigned to Host: *Marcus Hale*
Purpose: *Financial Reconstruction & Executive Development*
Status: *Awaiting Qualification*
Marcus stared, throat tight. "Why… me?"
The screen flickered.
[YOU ARE BROKE.]
[YOU HAVE MOTIVATION.]
[YOU POSSESS LATENT STRATEGIC POTENTIAL.]
[YOU REQUESTED A CHANCE.]
"That wasn't a request," Marcus muttered. "It was complaining."
[INTENT DETECTED.]
[THE SYSTEM RESPONDS ONLY TO INTENT.]
Marcus sank back onto the bench.
"This is insane…"
[AGREED. YOUR CURRENT LIFE TRAJECTORY IS ALSO INSANE.]
[INTERVENTION REQUIRED TO AVERT FAILURE.]
He grimaced. "You don't need to roast me while trying to help."
[NOTED.]
"…So what do you want?"
The next panel formed with slow, deliberate finality.
**MISSION 1 — PROVE YOUR POTENTIAL**
Objective:
→ Acquire a failing business within 48 hours
Reward:
→ $25,000 Starting Capital
→ Appraisal Mode
→ Negotiation Lv.1
Penalty for Failure:
→ System Lock (30 Days)
→ No future missions
→ Opportunity revoked
Marcus rubbed his temples. "A business? You want me to buy a business… when I can't even afford lunch?"
[THE REWARD IS NOT PROVIDED UNTIL YOU COMPLETE THE OBJECTIVE.]
"So I have to get someone to *agree* to sell me their failing business… before I get any money?"
[CORRECT.]
"That's impossible."
[THAT IS WHY IT IS A TEST.]
Marcus stared at the mission text, chest rising and falling.
Acquire a failing business.
No system abilities.
No appraisal.
No guidance.
Just him—broke, insecure, inexperienced—trying to convince a real person to sell him something he had no money for.
"…I don't even know where to look."
[THE SYSTEM CANNOT ASSIST UNTIL THE MISSION IS COMPLETE.]
[YOU MUST DEMONSTRATE INITIATIVE.]
Marcus laughed—half hysteria, half disbelief.
"No tutorials? No pointers?"
[NO.]
"Wow. Worst system ever."
[YOU MAY DECLINE ACTIVATION AND RETURN TO FAILURE TRAJECTORY.]
Marcus stopped laughing.
Failure trajectory.
Mom's bills.
Rent.
His sister's future.
He stood.
His legs trembled, but he stood anyway.
"…No," he whispered. "I'm not declining anything."
The panel glowed in response.
[MISSION BEGINS NOW.]
[TIME REMAINING: 47:59:58]
Marcus inhaled deeply.
He didn't have money.
He didn't have skills.
He didn't have confidence.
But for the first time in his life—
He had a chance.
He stepped out from under the streetlamp.
"Alright," he whispered. "Let's go find a failing business."
And Marcus Hale walked into the night, carrying nothing but desperation—and a System watching to see if he would rise or break.