Lucious sat on the edge of his mattress, elbows on his knees, staring at the crack running along his wall. The apartment was quiet except for the muffled shouting from next door—another early morning argument about money or someone not pulling their weight. He didn't care enough to figure it out.
His room smelled like old takeout and damp clothes. He'd meant to do laundry two nights ago but got home too tired to care. Same as last week. Same as the week before.
He leaned forward and pulled on his shoes. The soles were starting to peel. He made a mental note to check the glue in his bag.
His phone sat face down on a stack of receipts. He flipped it over, screen cracked, battery barely holding charge. Still worked.
As usual, the Fortune System greeted him the second it unlocked.
"Today: Multiple opportunities. Most will be invisible. One may change your future."
Lucious narrowed his eyes at the screen. "That's it? Nothing else?"
The blue glow pulsed once, then disappeared into the background.
He sighed and shoved it in his jacket pocket.
"Whatever."
—
The morning started slow. His first few deliveries were across familiar streets—two apartment buildings, a medical clinic, and a hair salon that never tipped.
Lucious pedaled hard through traffic. His bike's back brake still squeaked with every stop, and the left pedal wobbled just enough to make him paranoid. He should've taken the bus, but that meant waiting and delays. The bike was faster. Riskier, but faster.
By noon, he was soaked in sweat, standing in the marble-tiled lobby of some luxury condo tower. Order: one smoothie, one grilled chicken wrap. Customer note: "Ring once. Do not make eye contact."
He stood there five minutes. Then ten.
The receptionist didn't even glance up from her screen.
Finally, the elevator dinged.
A young woman stepped out—heels clicking, tablet in one hand, phone in the other. She stopped in front of him, glanced at the delivery bag.
"You Lucious?"
"Yeah."
She took the bag, scanned the receipt, and turned—then paused.
"You moved fast. You know this area?"
Lucious shrugged. "Pretty well."
She studied him, head slightly tilted. "You looking for side work? Nothing shady. Just errands. Off-hours stuff."
He didn't answer right away.
"Depends who's asking."
"Name's Naomi. I handle logistics for a startup on the top floor. My boss makes things… complicated."
She pulled a business card from her bag and handed it to him.
"Call if you're serious. Can't promise anything, but I like people who show up fast and shut up faster."
Lucious watched her walk away, then tucked the card into his side pouch.
The Fortune System flickered.
Marked: Favor potential increased.
He smirked. Not bad for a random drop-off.
—
The rain rolled in right after lunch—light at first, then heavy and cold. By the time he got to his next address, his socks were soaked, and his hoodie clung to his back.
Customer number six canceled mid-delivery. Customer number seven made him wait in the rain at a security checkpoint for ten minutes before some guy in a blazer came outside and waved him off like a pest.
"You can't be hanging around out here. This ain't no shelter."
Lucious held up the bag. "I'm working."
"Cool. Do it somewhere else."
He wanted to say something. He really did.
But the Fortune System stayed quiet. No glow. No hint. Just rain and a man with a clipboard and a smug face.
Lucious kept walking.
Not worth it.
—
Later, near 8th and Harper, he spotted a guy struggling with a delivery dolly outside a small juice bar. The man had three boxes stacked high, all of them tipping dangerously as one wheel caught the curb.
Lucious stepped off his bike.
"Yo, let me get that."
The guy looked up, surprised, then nodded gratefully.
Together they lifted the dolly up the curb and into the shop.
Inside, it smelled like citrus and ginger. Simple. Honest.
"Thanks," the guy said, stretching out his back. "That shipment's been sitting out there for over an hour. No one shows up to help anymore."
Lucious glanced around. It was just him and the owner.
"You run this place solo?"
"Most days."
"I hear that."
The man nodded toward the counter. "You ever need a free smoothie or extra cash, swing by. Name's Malik."
Lucious gave him a nod. "Lucious."
As he walked out, the Fortune System pinged again.
+1 Street Reputation: Malik – Juice Shop Owner
He didn't smile, but something in his shoulders loosened.
It wasn't money. But it was movement.
—
By the time evening hit, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The city was winding down, lights flickering on, people heading home to places he couldn't afford to imagine.
Lucious's legs ached. His back burned from the weight of his bag. He didn't need to check his earnings to know it hadn't been a profitable day. But it hadn't been pointless either.
Naomi. Malik. No fights. No wasted chances.
He could live with that.
He turned onto a quiet block lined with clean storefronts and office windows. The sidewalk gleamed from the rain, streetlights casting reflections like glass.
That's when he saw the car.
It was parked a few feet ahead. Black, smooth, quiet—more luxury than flash. The kind of car that said money without yelling it.
The back door opened.
A man stepped out.
Lucious slowed to a stop.
Tall. Clean-cut. Wool coat. Moved like he didn't have to rush for anything or anyone. He said something to the driver, then turned toward a warehouse entrance behind him.
Lucious recognized him.
Even if he didn't know his name.
That guy didn't deliver food. That guy didn't get brushed off by receptionists or barked at by security guards. That guy belonged to a different tier.
For a second, their eyes met.
Lucious didn't flinch.
Jason looked away, said something over his shoulder, and stepped back into the car. The door shut. The engine hummed. The vehicle eased off into traffic like it owned the road.
Lucious stood still.
Not angry. Just quiet.
"You lookin' down on me?"
He said it out loud without meaning to.
But the words hung there.
Not an accusation. Not a threat.
Just a promise.
He looked down at his torn bag, adjusted the strap, and kept walking.
Tomorrow wasn't promised.
But one day?
One day, he'd be the one someone like that stopped to notice.