The Unwanted Son's Millionaire System

The heavy knocks shook the thin motel door again. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Ace's heart pounded hard against his ribs. He could feel the cool hum of the Neural-Interface in his head, showing him the System Funds: $500.00. But it was trapped money. Useless right now.

"Open the door, kid," Deke's low voice growled from the hallway. "We ain't playin'."

Ace's mouth was dry. Fear tasted like metal. He had to do something. Fast. He couldn't run. He couldn't hide. The deadbolt and chain felt flimsy against Deke's anger.

Cleverness. Toughness. The System's words flashed in his mind, sharpened by the new Neural-Interface. He didn't just see them; he felt them.

He looked around the small, dark room. What could he use? The lumpy bed. The wobbly nightstand. The cheap lamp. Nothing strong. Nothing useful.

Then he saw the phone charger cable on the floor. The one he used to hack the server. The Neural-Interface hummed. An idea sparked. Risky. Maybe stupid. But it was all he had.

"Alright! Alright!" Ace shouted, trying to sound scared but cooperative. "I'm opening up! Just... just don't hurt me!" He fumbled loudly with the chain, making a show of unlocking it. He slid the chain off slowly. His hands shook.

He took a deep breath. He gripped the cheap lamp from the nightstand. It was light, made of thin plastic. Not a real weapon. But maybe a distraction.

He turned the deadbolt. The click was loud. He pulled the door open just a crack, keeping his body hidden behind it. He held the lamp ready.

Deke stood there, filling the doorway. He was bigger than Ace remembered, broad shoulders under a leather jacket slick with rain. His eyes were hard and angry. He didn't see the lamp.

"Where's my money, you little—" Deke started, shoving his hand against the door to push it open wider.

NOW!

Ace threw the lamp straight at Deke's face. It was weak, but it surprised him. Deke flinched, throwing up a hand to block it. The lamp bounced off his arm and clattered to the floor.

It gave Ace half a second. He lunged forward, not at Deke, but at the open door. He slammed his shoulder into it as hard as he could. CRACK! The door hit Deke hard, catching his fingers and maybe his face.

"ARGH!" Deke roared in pain and surprise. He stumbled back a step into the hallway.

Ace didn't hesitate. He saw his chance. He grabbed the edge of the door and yanked it shut with all his strength. BANG! He slammed the deadbolt home. CLICK! He slid the chain back on. His hands flew, locking everything tight again.

He leaned back against the door, gasping. His shoulder hurt from slamming the door. His heart felt like it would explode.

THUD!

Deke kicked the door hard. The whole frame shook. Dust drifted down from the ceiling.

"You're dead, kid!' Deke bellowed from the other side. He sounded furious. "Open this door or I'll break it down!"

THUD! Another kick. The wood around the lock groaned. The chain rattled violently. Ace knew the flimsy door wouldn't hold long against Deke's anger.

Panic surged again. Locking the door wasn't enough. He needed help. He needed… Big Mike.

He scrambled for his phone. Battery: 2%. It flickered weakly. He pulled up the phone app, fingers trembling. He couldn't remember the motel office number. He didn't even know if Big Mike had a phone there.

The Neural-Interface hummed in his head. He felt a strange pull. Not words. A direction. Like a compass needle pointing. Down the hall. Towards the office.

Call Mike, the feeling seemed to say. Now.

Ace jabbed at the phone screen. He didn't dial a number. He just hit the call button, trusting the weird feeling. The phone showed CALLING... to a number he didn't recognize.

It rang. Once. Twice.

THUD! Another kick. The door shook harder. The chain looked strained.

"Hello?" Big Mike's gravelly voice came through the phone speaker. He sounded tired, annoyed.

"Mike! It's Ace! Room 7!" Ace yelled into the phone, trying to be heard over Deke's shouting and kicking. "There's someone out there trying to break down my door! Help!"

A heartbeat of silence. Then Mike's voice, harder now. "I'm on my way. Hold tight." The call disconnected.

THUD! CRACK!

Wood splintered. The deadbolt held, but the wood around it was breaking. The chain rattled like it would snap.

"LAST CHANCE, KID!" Deke roared.

Suddenly, a powerful beam of light cut down the hallway from the direction of the office. It lit up the rain mist outside Ace's peephole.

"HEY!" Big Mike's voice boomed, loud and angry. "WHAT THE HELL YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

The kicking stopped. Ace pressed his eye to the peephole. He saw Deke turn around, squinting against the bright flashlight beam Mike held. Mike stood at the end of the hallway, near the office. He looked huge and solid in the light. He held a heavy-looking metal flashlight, thick as a club.

"This ain't your business, old man," Deke snarled, turning fully to face Mike. "Kid owes me. Big time."

"This is my business," Mike said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a slow step forward. "You break my door, you deal with me. Now get lost. Before I call the cops and introduce you to Mr. Flashlight here." He tapped the heavy light against his palm. Thump. Thump.

Deke tensed. He looked from Mike to Ace's door, then back to Mike. Ace could see the anger warring with caution in Deke's face. Mike was big. He looked like he meant business. And the flashlight looked very solid.

"This ain't over, kid," Deke spat towards Ace's door. He pointed a thick finger. "You hear me? NOT OVER." He took a step back, then another, keeping his eyes on Mike. He turned and walked quickly down the hallway, disappearing into the rainy night outside.

Ace let out a shuddering breath. His legs felt weak. He leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the door.

He heard Mike's heavy footsteps walk up to his door. "Kid? You okay in there?"

Ace fumbled with the locks again. His hands were still shaking. He opened the door a crack. Mike stood there, the powerful flashlight beam pointed down now. His face was grim.

"Yeah," Ace breathed. "Yeah. Thanks, Mike. Seriously."

Mike grunted. He looked at the splintered wood around the lock. "Gonna need to fix that tomorrow. Comes outta your deposit." He looked at Ace. "Who was that?"

"A guy named Deke," Ace said, his voice shaky. "I... I owed him money. From a stupid thing."

"Pawn King Deke?" Mike asked, his eyes narrowing. "Trouble. Real trouble. You paid him?"

Ace shook his head. "I tried. I... I didn't have enough. He got mad."

Mike sighed, a deep, tired sound. "Well, he ain't done. Guys like him don't forget. Watch your back, kid." He looked Ace up and down. "Get some sleep. Door'll hold for tonight. I'll be listening." He turned and walked heavily back towards the office, the flashlight beam cutting through the dark hallway.

Ace closed the door. Locked it again as best he could. The splintered wood made the lock feel loose. He leaned back against it, sliding down to sit on the scratchy carpet. The adrenaline rush faded, leaving him exhausted and shaky.

He had survived Deke. For now. Thanks to Mike. And thanks to the Neural-Interface pointing him to call Mike.

The cool hum of the Neural-Interface was still there in his head. He focused on it. [SYSTEM FUNDS: $500.00]. Real money. Money he needed. How could he get it out? Cash? The ATM fee was $3. He had seventy-six cents. He needed over two more dollars. And the nearest ATM was half a mile away, past where Deke might be waiting.

The blue timer in his mind pulsed: Wealth Consolidation: PENDING. He needed to finish it. But how? Liquidate assets? He had nothing left but seventy-six cents and a broken phone.

Suddenly, the Neural-Interface hummed louder. A new message appeared, not in blue words, but felt directly in his thoughts:

[Inefficient Resource Allocation Detected.]

[Proximity Alert: Suitable Asset Located.]

[Asset: Damaged Motel Door (Estimated Repair Cost: $80.00)]

[Action: Offer Repair Services to Management.]

[Estimated Fee: $40.00 (50% Cost Savings)]

Ace blinked. Repair the door? He didn't know how to fix a door! He barely knew how to open one! He looked at the splintered wood around the lock. It looked bad.

But the System thought he could do it? And get paid $40? Cash?

He had no tools. No wood. Nothing.

The Neural-Interface hummed again. A new feeling: Knowledge. Simple steps. Like the server hack instructions. 1. Locate Wood Filler & Clamp. 2. Stabilize Frame. 3. Apply Filler. 4. Sand Smooth.

Where would he find wood filler and a clamp at midnight? Ace almost laughed. It was impossible.

But the blue timer glowed: Wealth Consolidation: ACTIVE. And he needed cash. Badly.

He looked down at his hands. They were scraped, burned, and still shaking. He had seventy-six cents. A broken phone. And a weird computer in his head telling him to fix a door.

Outside, the rain kept falling. Inside, the sour smell of the room mixed with the fresh scent of splintered wood. Ace closed his eyes. The drip… drip… drip from the bathroom faucet was the only sound.

He had survived Deke. Could he survive fixing a door? And could he get Mike to pay him $40 for it?

He opened his eyes. The Neural-Interface hummed, waiting. Wealth Consolidation pulsed. He needed money. He needed to finish the task.

He pushed himself up off the floor. Time to see if Big Mike needed a handyman.