Marcus Hale wasn't sure which felt crazier—the fact that he'd been fired or the fact that he was now walking through San Antonio at night muttering, "Okay, where do I find a failing business?"
Most people would go home.
Most people would panic.
Most people would try to apply for new jobs or scroll job boards.
Marcus didn't have that luxury.
The System's mission timer ticked silently in the corner of his vision.
TIME REMAINING: 46:52:09
Forty-six hours to convince someone to sell him their failing business… without money… without proof… without any abilities… without anything except desperation and willpower.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking.
---
### A City of Opportunities… and Failures
Marcus wandered through strip malls, residential areas, and older neighborhoods. He knew what failing business *looked* like—bad signs, low foot traffic, depressed lighting, peeling paint. But knowing and approaching were different.
He saw a donut shop with flickering lights.
Closed.
Sign said "Back in 10 minutes."
That probably meant "never."
A haircut place with a "For Lease" sign.
Too late—they were already gone.
A pawn shop that hadn't had customers in who-knows-how-long.
But who would sell to him?
Who would trust him?
Who would even talk to him if he admitted he had no money yet?
Marcus rubbed his face. "This is impossible."
[STATEMENT NOT SUPPORTED.]
[THE OBJECTIVE REMAINS ACHIEVABLE.]
The System's voice echoed in his mind—not encouraging, not motivational, just factual.
"Yeah? You wanna help me then?" Marcus muttered.
[ASSISTANCE LOCKED UNTIL MISSION COMPLETION.]
"Of course it is."
He walked another two blocks.
Then three.
Then five.
He checked his watch—he had been walking for almost two hours since the mission began.
Every minute made the fear grow.
Forty-six hours was a lot… until you had to do something impossible with it.
And he had no plan.
---
### The Neighborhood Shift
Eventually, Marcus wandered into a quieter part of town—older storefronts, older brick buildings, older signage.
This was where real small businesses lived.
And died.
Marcus slowed his pace, scanning:
A tattered convenience store that probably survived on cigarette sales.
A flower shop with only two wilted bouquets in the window.
A barbershop with no cars in the lot even though it was Saturday.
A nail salon with the "Open" sign turned off during open hours.
He exhaled. "Okay. Okay… places like this. This is where I need to be."
But which one?
Who would sell to him in time?
Which business was failing—but not too far gone?
He needed someone desperate enough to listen… but not so hopeless that the deal wouldn't count.
Marcus sat on a bus stop bench, staring at the cracked pavement.
For the first time since the System appeared, doubt hit him like a slow punch to the ribs.
"I don't know if I can do this."
[YOU REQUESTED A CHANCE. THIS IS THE CHANCE.]
Marcus almost laughed. "Yeah, well, chances usually come with instructions."
[ONLY AFTER WORTHINESS IS PROVEN.]
He groaned. "Seriously? You won't even give me a hint?"
[NO.]
"You are the worst cosmic life coach ever."
[ACKNOWLEDGED.]
Marcus blinked. "…Did you just accept that?"
[CORRECT.]
He sighed loudly.
---
### The Accidental Lead
As Marcus continued walking, he passed a small laundromat.
This one wasn't special—if anything, it looked like every other worn-out laundromat in a worn-out strip mall.
The neon sign buzzed weakly.
Half the interior lights were off.
The parking lot had one lonely car.
Most machines inside weren't running.
A single old man stood behind the counter, scrolling his phone with tired eyes.
It was failing.
That much was obvious.
Marcus slowed.
Was this it?
Should he go in?
What would he even say?
"Hi, can I buy your business even though I have no money yet but trust me I will tomorrow after my imaginary system pays me?"
Yeah. No. That would get him kicked out or institutionalized.
He shook his head and kept walking.
But ten steps later, he stopped.
His feet wouldn't move.
Something about that laundromat felt… right.
Not because of a sign or a whisper or a glowing arrow.
The System didn't guide him.
He had *no* abilities.
No appraisal.
Nothing supernatural.
Just a gut feeling.
A gut feeling mixed with desperation.
"Fine," he whispered. "I'll talk to him. Maybe he'll just laugh in my face and I'll cross it off the list."
He turned around and walked back toward the laundromat.
---
### The Owner
A bell jingled overhead as Marcus stepped inside.
The air smelled faintly like detergent, dust, and old metal. The laundromat felt tired—like it had been holding itself together for decades and was finally losing the fight.
The old man behind the counter looked up.
He was in his late fifties or early sixties. Heavy bags under his eyes. Shoulders weighed down by years of effort. He wore a faded long-sleeve shirt and had a small notepad open beside him with scribbles Marcus couldn't read from here.
"Hey," the man said. "Machines on the left side don't work. Dryers take longer than they should. Sorry 'bout that if you're here to wash."
"I'm… not here for laundry."
The owner raised an eyebrow. "Then you lost?"
Marcus swallowed.
This was it.
His first attempt.
His first real step.
"Actually, I wanted to ask…"
He hesitated.
His voice felt too small.
Too weak.
Too ridiculous.
The owner waited patiently.
"…Are you interested in selling this place?"
The man lowered his phone slowly. "Come again?"
Marcus forced himself to stand straighter. "Are you… thinking about selling the business?"
Silence.
A long one.
Then the man chuckled—not cruelly, just in disbelief.
"Kid, do I look like someone who gets buyout offers?"
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. "I figured it couldn't hurt to ask."
"You a businessman?" the owner asked.
"No."
"You got a company?"
"No."
"You got experience?"
"…Not really."
"Money?"
Marcus's stomach twisted. "Not yet."
"Ah." The owner leaned back. "You're one of *those*."
Marcus blinked. "Those what?"
"Dreamers." The man gestured around the laundromat. "People who want to fix something without knowing how broken it is."
Marcus bristled. "I'm willing to learn."
The owner studied him.
"You serious?"
"Yes."
"Why would a kid like you want a place like this?"
Marcus hesitated—for once, not because the truth hurt, but because the truth felt… raw.
"I just want to help my family," he said. "And this might be my chance to do something real."
The owner nodded slowly. Not mocking. Not dismissing.
Just thoughtful.
"Your name?" he asked.
"Marcus. Marcus Hale."
"Ramon Diaz," the man replied. "I've owned this place for twenty-two years."
Marcus glanced around. "Have you ever thought about selling?"
"All the damn time," Ramon said without hesitation. "But nobody wants an old laundromat barely scraping by. Even the companies don't bother calling me anymore."
Marcus's pulse quickened.
"So you *would* sell?"
Ramon shrugged. "If the right person came along."
"If I came back tomorrow," Marcus said cautiously, "could we talk again? More seriously?"
Ramon studied him again—long, quiet, deliberate.
"You're young," Ramon said finally. "You look broke. And you have no idea what you're doing."
Marcus nodded. "All true."
"But," Ramon continued, "you're honest. And you walked in here with more courage than I've seen in a while."
He tapped his counter with a pen.
"Come back tomorrow. Noon. We'll talk numbers. I won't promise anything, but I'll listen."
Marcus's breath caught in his throat. "Really?"
"For now?" Ramon said. "Yeah. Really."
Marcus almost collapsed in relief.
"Thank you. Seriously—thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Ramon said. "This place is a mess. And buying it is a headache."
Marcus smiled. "I can handle headaches."
"We'll see."
---
### The System Reacts
As Marcus walked out of the laundromat, the timer in his vision flickered.
MISSION PROGRESS: **QUALIFIED LEAD FOUND**
TIME REMAINING: 45:01:22
NEXT STEP: SECURE WRITTEN AGREEMENT
For the first time since the mission began, Marcus didn't feel hopeless.
He felt the opposite.
He felt movement.
Momentum.
Possibility.
He looked at the night sky and exhaled a shaky breath.
"I might actually be able to do this."
The System gave no praise, but its next message felt like acknowledgment.
[CONTINUE.]
[INITIATIVE CONFIRMED.]
[YOUR CHANCE HAS BEGUN.]
Marcus headed home, exhausted but determined.
Tomorrow, he would return.
Tomorrow, he would negotiate.
Tomorrow, he would try to secure the deal.
He wasn't a businessman yet.
But today, for the first time…
He felt like he *could* become one.