Respawn in Reality: Game Over, Player One

Chapter 7

The bright white numbers floated in the top left corner of Leo’s vision. They were a constant, ticking reminder of his doom.

[Countdown: 22:45:10]

[Current Funds: $50]

[Required Funds: $1,200]

Leo walked down the wet, dirty sidewalk. The rain had finally stopped, but the dark clouds still hung heavy over the city. Cold puddles reflected the broken neon lights of cheap stores and fast-food restaurants.

He pulled his thin jacket tighter around his chest. He was freezing, but his mind was burning with a frantic energy. He needed one thousand, two hundred dollars. 

For a jobless kid who had just been kicked out of his only home, that amount of money was mathematically impossible to get in twenty-two hours. He could not get a bank loan. He could not get a job that paid that much in one day.

"Think," Leo muttered to himself, rubbing his cold hands together. "You are not an idiot. You have a seven in Intelligence. Use it."

He looked around the street. A man walked out of a small convenience store and threw an empty soda can toward a metal trash bin.

Instantly, Leo’s HUD sparked to life. A glowing blue line appeared in the air, connecting the man’s hand to the trash bin. Text flashed next to the flying can.

[Object: Aluminum Can. Weight: 0.5 oz.]

[Velocity: 12 mph. Wind Resistance: Low.]

[Trajectory Status: Failure.]

A red 'X' appeared on the edge of the metal trash bin. A split second later, the soda can hit the exact spot the red 'X' had marked. It bounced off the rim and fell onto the dirty sidewalk.

Leo stopped walking. He stared at the empty soda can on the ground. His HUD had just calculated the exact path of a moving object perfectly. It had measured the speed, the weight, and the wind in less than a second.

A wild, dangerous idea began to form in Leo’s mind. "Physics," Leo whispered. A slow smile spread across his face. "It's all just physics."

If his eyes could calculate the exact path of a flying object, he did not need luck to win money. He did not need to play cards, where the outcome was hidden. 

He needed a game where everything was visible. He needed a game of angles, speed, and kinetic energy. He needed a game of pool.

There was only one place in this part of the city where people bet large amounts of cash on pool games. It was a famous underground billiards hall called "The Iron Cue." It was run by the local street syndicate, a dangerous gang of thugs and criminals.

Going into The Iron Cue was a terrible idea. Normal people stayed far away from it. But Leo was out of options. If he did not get the rent money, he would lose his apartment. 

If he lost his apartment, the HUD promised his body would suffer a massive, permanent forty percent stat drop. He would become weak and sick again. He would lose his only chance to fight back against Mike.

"I have to do this," Leo told himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his wildly beating heart. "I just have to be smart."

He turned the corner and walked toward a dark alley. At the end of the alley was a heavy steel door with a faded painting of an eight-ball on it. A huge, muscular man with a thick beard and a leather jacket stood by the door.

Leo walked up to the man. His legs were shaking, but he forced himself to stand straight.

"I want to play," Leo said, his voice surprisingly steady.

The big man looked Leo up and down. He saw a skinny, pale kid in worn-out sneakers and a cheap, wet shirt. He saw the dirty duffel bag slung over Leo's shoulder. The guard laughed, a deep, rumbling sound.

"This isn't an arcade, kid," the guard grumbled. "Go play video games. The men inside play for real money."

Leo reached into his pocket. He pulled out his fifty dollars. It was a single, wrinkled fifty-dollar bill. It was every single penny he owned in the entire world. He held it up.

"I have money," Leo said.

The guard stopped laughing. He stared at the fifty dollars. In this neighborhood, fifty dollars was enough to buy a few drinks or a quick meal. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to let him in. The guard shrugged his heavy shoulders and stepped aside.

"Your funeral, kid," the guard said, pulling the heavy steel door open.

A wave of hot, smelly air hit Leo in the face. The Iron Cue smelled like stale beer, cheap cigars, and old sweat. 

The room was large and poorly lit. Thick clouds of gray smoke hung in the air near the ceiling. Loud, angry rock music played from an old jukebox in the corner.

There were five large pool tables in the room. Around the tables stood dangerous-looking men. 

Some had tattoos covering their necks. Some had scars on their faces. They were drinking from thick glass mugs and passing dirty, wrinkled money back and forth.

The loud CRACK of hard plastic balls hitting each other echoed through the room.

Leo stood near the entrance, holding his duffel bag tight against his chest. He felt like a tiny rabbit that had just walked into a cave full of hungry wolves.

He looked toward the center of the room. There was one table that was bigger and cleaner than the rest. It had bright, green felt. Standing next to this table was a man who clearly owned the place.

His name was Raphael. Raphael was tall, thin, and moved with a smooth, dangerous grace. He wore a sharp, expensive silver suit that looked completely out of place in the dirty bar. He had slicked-back dark hair and a bright gold tooth that flashed when he smiled. But his smile was never warm. It was cruel.

Raphael was currently playing against a nervous, sweating man. There was a pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table.

Leo focused his eyes on the pool table. He wanted to test his theory.

Instantly, his vision shifted. The smoky, noisy bar seemed to fade into the background. The green pool table in front of him suddenly lit up with bright, glowing blue lines.

The HUD was mapping the entire table.

[Surface Scan Complete.]

[Material: Wool blend felt. Wear and tear: Moderate.]

[Friction Coefficient Calculated.]

Numbers and grid lines appeared over the green cloth. When Raphael leaned over the table and pointed his wooden cue stick at the white cue ball, the HUD drew a bright yellow line straight out of the stick. It showed exactly where the ball would go.

Raphael hit the ball. Crack.

The white ball rolled exactly down the yellow line the HUD had drawn. It hit a red ball. The HUD had already drawn a second line, predicting the red ball's path. The red ball rolled perfectly into the corner pocket.

Leo smiled. The system was perfect. It saw the invisible math of the real world. Pool was no longer a game of skill or luck for him. It was just a simple geometry puzzle.

But Leo knew he could not just walk up, challenge the boss, and win. If a skinny kid walked in and beat the boss immediately, they would think he was a professional hustler. They would beat him up and steal his money.

He had to play a role. He had to act. He had been a professional gamer. He knew how to pretend to be bad at a game to trick his opponents.

Leo walked slowly toward the back of the room, approaching one of the cheaper, older tables. Two large men in dirty mechanic shirts were playing.

"Excuse me," Leo said softly, making his voice sound high and nervous. "Can I... can I play the winner? I have fifty dollars."