System Activated: Empire Reset Protocol

Chapter 2. The First Slap

“Where’d you get that?” the boy asked, watching Victor tear at the stale pastry with hungry, ugly focus.

Victor didn’t look up. “From a bakery’s trash,” he said. “Don’t ask.”

“You could’ve stolen it,” the boy said, incredulous. “Why risk?”

“Because stealing leaves traces,” Victor interrupted, voice low. “If you want to survive, you learn to take what won’t be missed and leave people guessing.” He swallowed another bite. “Listen. What’s your name?”

“Kai.” The boy sat closer, knees folded to his chest. “You’re Victor, right? I heard some people say.”

“You heard wrong,” Victor snapped, then softened. “You heard my name. That’s fine.” He reached into his pocket and produced a tiny silver coin, an impossible thing in his state, and pressed it into Kai’s hand. “Keep that, for luck.”

Kai’s eyes widened. “Where did you.”

“Never mind.” Victor stood, rain-matted hair clinging to his forehead. “Can you tell me where Donovan’s men hang out? Not the big towers, small ops. The people who think they own the alleys.”

Kai pointed, voice a whisper. “There’s a bar on Mercer. The Gutter’s Crown. They take bribes, fix brawls, and they run runners for Donovan. And there’s a bookie on Fourth, Nolan. He keeps lists. He talks too much.”

Victor’s mouth curved. “Perfect. We start with talkers.” He slid the rest of the pastry into a scrap of cloth and tucked it away. “You know anyone who owes you?”

Kai shrugged. “Few. But I know a girl, Mira. She can get you in.” He glanced around. “But they won’t take nicely to a soaked stranger.”

“They won’t notice a soaked stranger who’s got nothing to lose.” Victor’s voice had the edge of someone who’d decided on a thing and would not be moved. “We go now.”

Outside the awning, the city moved like a beast breathing, neon and shadow, cars hissing past, a dog barking at the lip of a sidewalk. 

Victor moved like someone whose body remembered how to be dangerous even when it was weak. “Why help me?” he asked suddenly, as they walked.

Kai’s small shoulders trembled. “Because you looked like someone I used to know. My brother. He tried to get back at a man who’d taken our rent. They smashed his hand. He died.”

Victor’s steps faltered. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” Kai shot him a hard look. “I am not sorry. I promised him.”

“Then listen to me.” Victor crouched, intense even in that cramped alley. “You keep your head down until I say otherwise. If I tell you to speak, you speak. If I tell you to run, you run. No heroics. Understood?”

“Understood.” Kai’s chin was as stubborn as concrete. “What’s the plan?”

Victor let the system voice thread through his thoughts, a measured list of options, odds, and rewards. 

He ignored the numbers outwardly and spoke instead with the confidence the system fed him.

“We go to the bookie first. Nolan likes to brag. Men who brag will sell anything to feel bigger. I’ll bait him. Make him think I’m a dumb, broken rich kid with a grudge, then I’ll take what he boasts about.” 

He stood. “You watch the exits. Mira gets us past the bouncer.”

They turned the corner into Mercer. The Gutter’s Crown breathed smoke and dim gold. Laughter flew like shards. 

A bouncer the size of a father barred the door but relented when Mira slipped a note between palm and weight.

An old trick Victor’s hands still remembered from lessons he’d been taught at a better table. “You got me?” Victor murmured.

“I got you,” Mira said, smirking. “You got something to prove?”

“Everything,” Victor said. “Everything they stole.”

Inside, the bar stank of oil and cheap perfume. Nolan sat at a back table, his pockets heavy with other people’s debts. 

He droned, mouth like a cracked record. “And Donovan’s boys thought that’d shut him up, but.”

“Excuse me,” Victor interrupted, approaching like a man with no right to be heard. “You’re Nolan, right? I heard you keep records. Lists.”

Nolan squinted. “Who’s asking? Do you have some kind of blood from up top?”

Victor smiled, a wet, hungry smile. “No. I’m the opposite. I’m below the bottom.” He let the words hang, let the pity flicker on Nolan’s face. 

“I lost everything to Donovan. They took my name. I’ve got nothing left but a memory of the ledger that names the people who took it.”

Nolan blinked, greed replacing pity. “You got coin? You want me to whisper false things for you? That costs.”

Victor shook his head. “I don’t have coin. I have a promise.” He leaned in. “You ever heard of a man who resurrected from trash?”

A cluster of men laughed. Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “You mean like a trick? You’re saying you want my list and you’ll give me, what, favors?”

“A favor.” Victor kept the promise light. “Information. I’ll help you see a mark who’ll pay. Two favors. Small ones.”

Nolan pursed his lips. “And why would I trust you? You look like gutter sludge.”

“You’re right.” Victor glanced at the men, then back. “So I’ll make you a demonstration.”

He spoke to the room. “How long you been running bets for that old man on Fourth? Two years? Three? You think you’re clever.” 

He slapped a coin, one tiny, shining, on the table that made heads turn. “I say Nolan’s lists are weak. He sells scraps. I bet he’s got a ledger that names, ” his voice dipped to a secret, “Names who launder Donovan’s bribes.”

Nolan stood, furious. “Who taught you to blabber?”

Victor smiled, cold. “No one. I read faces. I know power.” 

He let his voice drop to a rasp. “I’m offering proof: if you tell me where Donovan keeps his small ledgers, I’ll give you something better than money. I’ll give you leverage.”