The morning sun was already hot as Lucious coasted down a cracked stretch of Midtown on his battered scooter. His shirt clung to his back, sweat soaking through the cheap fabric, and fus from traffic choked the air.
He muttered, "Sa routes, sa crap, sa busted scooter."
Another delivery had just ended with a woman demanding he double-check every item, only to slam the door in his face over a missing sauce. She gave him a single crumpled dollar.
He sighed and turned onto a quieter street, thumbing through his route map when sothing flashed in his vision.
[Scanning Nearby Probabilities...]
Lucious frowned. "Now what?"
[Opportunity Detected – 82.4% Probability of Favorable Outco.]
Ahead, a sleek, navy-blue luxury sedan sat awkwardly by the curb, hazard lights blinking. A well-dressed man crouched beside it, fumbling with a tire iron. The guy looked like he’d just stepped out of a boardroom.
Lucious leaned forward. Normally, he wouldn’t even blink. So finance guy could call roadside assistance like the rest of them. But the system’s glow didn’t fade.
[Na: Roland Myles.]
[Occupation: Private Wealth Consultant.]
[Net Worth: Estimated $2.4M.]
[Probability of Return Favor (High Impact): 82.4%]
He hesitated. "You’ve gotta be kidding ."
He was about to twist the throttle and drive off. He had no interest in helping so rich guy change a tire. But then the system interface updated again.
[Most Strategic Move: Assist. Expected Return: Long-Term Leverage.]
He scoffed. "Tch... fine."
Lucious parked the scooter and walked up. "Need a hand?"
The man looked up, sweat dripping. "God, yes. If you know how to get this bolt off—I’ve been at it for twenty minutes."
Lucious squatted down, tested the bolt, then walked back to his scooter. From under the seat, he pulled a tiny bottle of lubricant spray and a compact ratchet wrench.
Ten minutes later, the spare tire was on. Roland exhaled like he’d just survived war.
"Seriously—you saved ," he said. "I’ve got a client waiting and everything."
Lucious nodded but said nothing.
Roland reached into his jacket, produced a matte-black business card, and handed it over. "Roland Myles. If you ever need anything—job ref, letter, connection—call . I don’t offer this often."
Lucious took the card without a smile. "Got it."
Roland hopped into his car and pulled away.
Lucious slid the card into his jacket, eyes thoughtful.
[Favor Token Acquired – Roland Myles.]
[Unlocked: Peripheral Influence Strategy Tier I.]
[Follow-Up Recomnded in 2–3 Days for Maximum Gain.]
Back on the scooter, Lucious muttered, "Hope you’re worth the sweat, Roland."
—
The rest of the shift was the usual chaos: cold fries, impatient custors, one guy who tried to pay with arcade tokens. By nightfall, Lucious felt like he’d aged five years.
He returned to his small, musty apartnt, threw his helt on the floor, and slumped onto the couch.
The fridge had two things: expired milk and leftover curry that might as well have been fernted. He heated it anyway, holding his nose.
As he ate, his mind circled back to Roland.
"I didn’t help you out of kindness," he muttered. "Let’s hope you rember that."
The card sat on the fridge door now, stuck with a magnet.
The blue screen flickered to life in the corner of his vision.
[Action Logged: Social Leverage Secured.]
[Minor Favor Token – Roland Myles.]
[Passive Growth Path: Activated.]
Lucious stared at the floating text. His hand hovered near the card again.
Not tonight. He couldn’t seem desperate. The system said to wait, so he would.
He stepped into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His blonde hair was flat with sweat, and his shirt had grease on the collar.
"This is how it starts," he whispered. "Not with luck. With calculation."
He brushed his teeth, then turned off the lights.
Outside, sirens wailed and city life groaned on.
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