The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of the repaired dryer faded behind Ace as he walked back towards the Nite Owl, the afternoon sun warming his shoulders. The slight grime on his new dark grey shirt felt like a badge of honor now, not a mark of poverty. His toolbox swung comfortably at his side, its weight a constant reminder of capability. $110.35 in cash. $508.50 in the System. A free coffee warming his hands, courtesy of Evelyn. And another job lined up at the laundromat.
Back in Room 7, he locked the door and set the toolbox down carefully. The lukewarm coffee was still welcome. He pulled out his cash, adding Doris's $50 to his stack. $110.35. It was a tangible number, a real sum earned by his own hands and the System's guidance. He needed to access more of the System funds. The Neural-Interface hummed, projecting the familiar QuickCash ATM location half a mile away.
The walk was uneventful, his senses alert but finding no sign of Deke. Inside the ATM booth, the familiar whir and clunk sounded as he inserted his card, typed his PIN, selected 'Other Transactions', and entered the System-supplied code: [Access Code: 8T2R9P]. Bills slid out: ninety-seven dollars. System cash minus the fee. He added it to his wad. $207.35 cash. A significant jump. The System updated silently: [System Funds: $411.50 USD].
He tucked the money deep into his cargo pants pocket. The Neural-Interface pinged softly:
[Financial Milestone Achieved: Accessible Cash > $200 USD]
[System Synergy Bonus: +5% Efficiency to Basic Repair Skill]
[Recommendation: Consolidate funds for larger opportunities.]
The efficiency bonus felt like a subtle tightening of focus in his mind, a slight sharpening of the System's guidance when working with tools. Useful. He headed back, the extra weight in his pocket a profound comfort. He stopped at a small grocery store, using a few dollars of his real cash for essentials: a cheap loaf of bread, peanut butter, a bag of apples, and a large bottle of water. Basic sustenance, but reliable. He was building reserves.
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly in Room 7. He inventoried his tools again, the System silently confirming each item and its optimal use. He practiced basic tasks the System suggested: measuring precise distances with the tape measure, adjusting the wrench, identifying different screw heads. It was mundane, but it felt like honing a weapon. The drip from the faucet provided a steady, almost meditative background rhythm.
As evening approached, a sharp knock echoed on his door. Ace tensed momentarily, hand instinctively going to the hammer in his open toolbox, before the Neural-Interface identified the pattern: [Pattern Recognized: Evelyn - Apartment 2A]. He relaxed slightly and opened the door.
Evelyn stood there, changed out of her Grind House apron into faded jeans and a band t-shirt. She held a paper bag that smelled faintly of spices. "Hey, Ace. Hope it's not too late? I just got off my shift. That window rattling is driving me crazy tonight with this wind." She gestured vaguely upwards towards her apartment. "And I brought dinner." She lifted the bag. "Leftover falafel wraps from the cafe. Still warm."
"It's not too late," Ace said, stepping aside to grab his toolbox. "And dinner sounds great. Lead the way."
Apartment 2A was small but bursting with personality. Books were stacked precariously on every available surface, colorful abstract paintings hung on the walls, and several large, healthy-looking plants dominated corners. The promised monstera sat proudly near a large window that indeed rattled noticeably with each gust of wind. Ace could see it vibrating in its frame.
"That's the one," Evelyn said, pointing. "Sounds like it's about to shake itself loose when the wind really blows."
Ace set his toolbox down near the window. "Let's see what we're dealing with." He examined the window frame. It was old wood, slightly warped. The Neural-Interface scanned:
[Issue: Loose Window Sash / Worn Weatherstripping]
[Tools Required: Screwdriver (Phillips), Utility Knife, Replacement Weatherstripping (Optional)]
[Estimated Repair Time: 15-30 minutes]
"The main problem is the sash – the moving part – is loose in the track," Ace explained, pointing. "The little rollers or guides are probably worn out, or the screws holding the track are loose. The rubber seal around the edge is also pretty worn out, which lets the wind whistle through and makes the whole thing shake more."
"Can you stop the shaking without replacing the seal? That sounds pricey," Evelyn asked, setting the falafel bag down on a small, cluttered table.
"For now, I can tighten everything up and stabilize the sash so it doesn't rattle," Ace said, opening his toolbox. "That should fix the worst of it. The weatherstripping would make it quieter overall and block drafts better, but it's not critical for stopping the shaking right now. A roll might cost ten or fifteen bucks if you want to do it later."
"Just stopping the shaking is perfect for now," Evelyn said. "Let's do that."
Ace got to work. He used his Phillips screwdriver to tighten the screws holding the metal window track to the frame. Several were indeed loose. He carefully examined the sash rollers; one felt gritty and didn't turn smoothly. He used his utility knife to carefully scrape away accumulated grime and paint flecks from the track and the rollers, then applied a tiny drop of oil from the small bottle he'd bought for his tools to the roller axles. He tested the window. It slid up and down with significantly less wobble.
"Try the wind now," he said, stepping back.
A strong gust hit the building. The window pane vibrated slightly, but the loud, shaking rattle was gone. Just a faint hum of wind against the glass.
"You fixed it!" Evelyn said, relief clear in her voice. "It's so much better. Seriously, thank you." She grabbed the bag. "Come on, let's eat before these get cold. Least I can do."
They sat at her small table, surrounded by books and art supplies. The falafel wraps were delicious – crispy chickpea balls, creamy tahini, fresh veggies in warm pita. Ace realized how long it had been since he'd shared a meal with anyone.
"So," Evelyn said between bites, "you just… know how to fix things? Like, intuitively? Or did you apprentice with some grumpy old master carpenter?"
Ace chose his words carefully. The System hummed, not offering prompts, just observing. "A bit of both, I guess," he said, which wasn't entirely a lie. "I've always been good at figuring out how things work. Taking them apart, putting them back together. And lately… yeah, I guess I've had to learn fast." He didn't elaborate on the why of needing to learn fast.
Evelyn nodded, her sharp eyes missing little but not pushing. "Well, it's a really useful skill. Especially around here. Half the buildings feel like they're falling apart slowly." She gestured around her apartment. "Hence the… creative clutter. Easier to pile books than fix squeaky floorboards."
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment. Ace noticed a sketchbook open on the table, filled with intricate, slightly surreal cityscapes. "You draw?" he asked, nodding towards it.
Evelyn looked slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. Just doodles, really. Helps me unwind after slinging coffee all day. Or when the window was driving me nuts." She flipped the sketchbook closed. "Not exactly practical, like fixing dryers."
"Looks practical to me," Ace said honestly. "Keeping sane is pretty important work." He remembered the System erasing Leo's laughter. Some things couldn't be fixed with a screwdriver.
Evelyn studied him for a second, a thoughtful look on her face. "You know, Ace, for a guy who fixes things, you think about stuff a lot deeper than just nuts and bolts."
Ace paused unsure what to say. Before he could find the words, a sharp chime rang in his mind accompanied by flashing red text:
[System Alert: Security Perimeter Breach Detected]
[Location: Nite Owl Motel - Vicinity of Room 7]
[Threat Level: Moderate. Potential Hostile Entity: Deke Affiliated.]
Ace froze, his falafel wrap halfway to his mouth. The warmth he felt just moments ago vanished. In its place was ice‑cold adrenaline. His eyes snapped to Evelyn. His body tensed, ready to move. "Trouble at my room," he said, his voice tight. He stood up fast, knocking his chair back slightly, and grabbed his toolbox. "Thanks for the food, Evelyn. And the window fix." He was already turning towards the door.
Evelyn's relaxed expression vanished replaced by a worried expression. "Ace? What kind of trouble? What's happening?"
"Can't explain. Gotta go!" Ace called out over his shoulder as he pulled open her apartment door. He didn't look back as he ran down the hall towards the stairs, the toolbox banging against his leg, the System's red alert screaming in his head like a physical pressure. The solid ground had just cracked wide open. Deke was back.