CHAPTER 20: CHAPTER 20

Ace woke early, the cheap phone buzzing on the small table beside his bed. It wasn’t a call; it was his own alarm. Thirteen days left. The pressure felt like a heavy blanket pushing down on him. He couldn’t afford slow, safe jobs anymore. He needed a big win.

He looked at his cash: $286.35. It was good money, earned through nerve-wracking computer work. But it wasn’t enough. Deke operated with violence and large sums. Ace needed leverage. He needed something Deke valued, or enough money to make Deke back off permanently.

An idea sparked in his mind, risky but possible. Pawn shops. Places like Deke’s were full of forgotten things, sometimes valuable things people didn’t realize were broken or hidden. His Neural-Interface could spot what others missed. His repair skills could fix them. He could buy low, fix fast, and sell high.

He ate a quick breakfast of peanut butter on bread, washing it down with water. Then he gathered his tools and all his cash except a small emergency $50. $236.35 was his stake. He slipped the cheap phone into his pocket – his connection to the outside world now. Time to hunt.

Deke’s Pawn & Loan looked the same as before: dusty windows crammed with odd items, the sign flickering weakly. Ace’s stomach tightened as he pushed the door open. The bell jingled loudly.

Deke himself stood behind the counter today, polishing a tarnished silver cup. He looked up, and his eyes narrowed like a snake spotting prey. A slow, unpleasant smile spread across his face. "Well, well. Look what crawled outta the gutter. Got my money, kid?" His voice was oily and threatening.

Ace kept his face calm. "Not today, Deke. Just browsing." He forced himself to walk further into the cluttered shop, ignoring Deke’s stare boring into his back. He couldn’t show fear.

He moved slowly down the crowded aisles, past mismatched chairs, old guitars, and boxes of dusty tools. He focused his mind. The Neural-Interface hummed, scanning the items he looked at.

[Scanning Item: Vintage Table Lamp - Base: Solid Brass (Tarnished). Wiring: Faulty/Frayed. Restoration Potential: High. Current Pawn Value: Low.]

[Scanning Item: Mechanical Wristwatch - Brand: Obscure Swiss. Movement: Gritty/Stopped. Crystal: Scratched. Restoration Potential: Moderate-High. Current Pawn Value: Very Low.]

[Scanning Item: Portable Analog Synthesizer (1970s) - Keys: Sticking. Circuit Board: Corroded Battery Leak. Restoration Potential: High (Niche Market). Current Pawn Value: Low.]

Three items. All broken. All potentially valuable if fixed. Ace’s pulse quickened. This could work. He carefully picked them up: the heavy lamp, the small watch, and the strange electronic box with buttons and knobs.

He carried them to the counter, setting them down with a soft thud. Deke stopped polishing, his eyes flicking over Ace’s choices. "Found some junk, huh? Whatcha want with broken stuff?"

"Maybe I can fix them," Ace said, keeping his voice level. "How much?"

Deke picked up the watch first, squinting at it. "This old thing? Doesn’t even tick. Twenty bucks." He tossed it down. He tapped the lamp. "Heavy. Wiring’s shot. Forty." He poked the synthesizer. "Weird noise box. Fifty. One-ten for the lot. Take it or leave it."

Ace knew Deke was charging too much for broken junk, but haggling hard might make Deke suspicious or angry. The Neural-Interface confirmed the prices were high for their condition, but the potential profit after repair was worth it. Ace needed these items.

"One hundred even," Ace countered, pulling out his cash. He laid five twenty-dollar bills on the counter.

Deke eyed the money, then Ace’s determined face. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound with no humor. "Fine. Hundred bucks for your broken dreams, kid." He scooped up the cash. "But remember, my main offer still stands. You owe me. Interest is piling up." He pointed a thick finger at Ace. "Don’t think fixin’ toys gets you off the hook."

Ace gathered the lamp, watch, and synthesizer without a word. He felt Deke’s eyes on him all the way out the door. The bell jingled again, sounding like a warning.

Back in Room 7, Ace locked the door. He spread his purchases on the floor: the lamp, the watch, and the synthesizer. He had $136.35 cash left. He also had his tools and the System.

First, the lamp. The Neural-Interface pinpointed the frayed wires inside the base. Ace carefully unscrewed the base. He cut out the bad wires and replaced them with fresh ones from his small supply. He polished the tarnished brass base and shade with a special cloth and cleaner. It took an hour. The lamp looked elegant and worked perfectly when he plugged it in. [Restoration: Complete. Estimated Resale Value: $180-$250.]

Next, the watch. The Neural-Interface guided his fingers as he used tiny screwdrivers to open the delicate back. Inside, the gears were gummed up with old oil and dust. Ace meticulously cleaned each tiny part with solvent and a soft brush, following the System’s precise instructions. He applied a minuscule drop of fresh oil to the right spots. He carefully buffed the scratched glass face. He closed the back and wound the crown. The second hand jerked, then began its smooth, quiet sweep. [Restoration: Complete. Estimated Resale Value: $300-$400.]

Finally, the synthesizer. This was the trickiest. The Neural-Interface mapped the circuit board, highlighting the area corroded by an old, leaking battery. Ace carefully scraped away the crusty green corrosion with a tiny tool. He cleaned the area with special electronic cleaner. Some connections looked damaged under the System’s enhanced view. Using a fine-tipped soldering iron he’d bought with his tool kit, Ace painstakingly repaired the tiny broken pathways on the circuit board, the System guiding his every move. He cleaned the sticky keys with rubbing alcohol. He plugged it into a small speaker he’d also bought cheaply. When he pressed a key, a weird, wobbly electronic note echoed in the room. It worked! [Restoration: Complete. Estimated Resale Value: $350-$500.]

He’d spent nearly eight hours working, fueled by focus and the constant tick of the clock in his mind. He was exhausted, but hopeful. He had three beautifully restored items.

Using his new phone, Ace took clear, well-lit photos of each item. He wrote simple, honest descriptions: "Restored Vintage Brass Table Lamp - Works Perfectly," "Repaired Swiss Mechanical Wristwatch - Keeps Excellent Time," "Fixed 1970s Analog Synthesizer - Unique Sounds Working."

He listed them on a popular online marketplace known for collectibles and vintage gear. He priced them carefully: Lamp $220, Watch $350, Synthesizer $400. He held his breath and hit Post.

The wait was agonizing. He checked the phone constantly. Every minutes felt like hours.

Then, a notification chimed! Someone made an offer on the lamp: $200. Ace accepted immediately and the payment processed.

Another chime! An offer on the watch: $320. Ace accepted and the Payment processed quickly.

He stared anxiously at the synthesizer listing, wondering if it would sell. Then, finally, an offer came in for $380. Relief flooded him as he accepted and the payment was processed.

He watched the numbers on his phone screen:

Lamp: +$200

Watch: +$320

Synthesizer: +$380

Total Sales: $900

Minus Pawn Shop Cost: -$100

PROFIT: $800

He had started the day with $236.35 cash for this gamble. He now had his emergency $50, plus the $136.35 he hadn’t spent at Deke’s, plus $800 profit. Total Cash Now: $986.35! He also still had the $411.50 in the System.

He leaned back against the wall, letting out a long, shaky breath. $986.35. Almost a thousand dollars in his pocket, earned in one day through skill, risk, and the System’s help. It felt unreal.

The Neural-Interface chimed softly, not with an alert, but with a new task:

[Task: Establish Secure Operational Base]

[Time: 7 Days]

[Goal: Find and secure a private location for work/storage, away from living quarters.]

[Reward: Skill - "Network Ping" (Detect nearby electronic devices/threats)]

[Penalty: Intense Social Anxiety for 24 Hours]

Ace looked around the cramped motel room. His bed, his tools, his few belongings – all crammed together. Mike was right; this wasn’t safe or sustainable. He needed a separate place to work, to store things, to plan. Somewhere Deke’s thugs couldn’t easily find.

He picked up his cheap phone, a new sense of purpose warming him. He had money. He had a plan. He had twelve days left for Deke. First thing tomorrow, he’d find a base. The game was changing, and Ace was finally starting to play it his way.