System Revenge: From Trash Boy to Top Boss

Chapter 11

The thumping bass of Club Moon faded to a distant hum in Damon’s mind as a translucent blue screen shimmered into existence before his eyes. It was like looking through a high-tech window into another dimension, visible only to him.

“System,” Damon murmured, his voice barely a whisper, “show me what features are available.”

The screen shifted, displaying a grid of icons. Nine of them, neatly arranged. Eight were grayed out, locked and only one glowed with a faint, inviting light.

“What are these?” Damon asked, pointing a mental finger at the locked features. “And why are they locked?”

“These are your abilities, Host,” the System’s voice resonated directly in his mind, calm and clear. “They are grouped by pages. This is page one. To unlock a feature, you must complete specific challenges or meet certain criteria. Once all features on a page are unlocked, the next page becomes accessible.”

“And the next page?” Damon pressed, a flicker of impatience. “Can I see it?”

“Negative, host. Progression is sequential and the features on each page are designed to correspond with increasing levels of difficulty in the challenges you will face as the chosen host. Your life will become more complex, more demanding from this point forward. Your success, your very survival, will depend on your ability to master and utilize these features.”

Damon sighed, a long, drawn-out breath. “Great, just what I needed, more complexity.” He rubbed his temples. “Alright, alright. I’ll learn the ins and outs later but for now, what’s available right now? What can I use?”

The System highlighted the single glowing icon. “The ‘Display Account Balance’ ability is currently active. With this, you can ascertain the real-time, spendable balance of any individual you focus on.”

Damon’s lips curved into a slow smile. “Interesting.” His gaze drifted down the digital display. A small, shimmering icon, like a golden ticket, bubbled gently in the bottom left corner. “What’s that?” he asked.

“That, Host, is your unredeemed reward ticket you earned for saving Mr. Harrison’s life earlier today. Your request for anything within the System’s capabilities remains pending.”

A triumphant gleam entered Damon’s eyes. He’d almost forgotten. This was it; this was his ace in the hole. He was more than ready for Ernie and his cohorts.

He turned to Aria, who was still seated beside him, her face a mixture of concern and growing unease as she watched her friends abandon her. He reached out, taking her hand gently.

“Aria,” he said, his voice low and firm, “I promise you, I will defend your dignity. No one will disrespect you and get away with it and I will help you get revenge on your… former friends.”

Aria’s eyes widened, a flicker of surprise, then gratitude, passing through them as she squeezed his hand.

Damon stood up, his gaze sweeping over the entire club. His voice, when he spoke, was clear: “You hear that, everyone? Not only will I defend Aria and her dignity, I will make sure no one disrespects her and gets away with it, and I will help her get revenge on her so-called friends.”

“Ernie!” Damon called out, his voice ringing with a ferocity no one had ever heard from him, not even Jane. “You want to spice things up? You want to outspend me? Challenge accepted! But with my own condition.”

The crowd, which had been buzzing with whispers about Aria’s betrayal, fell silent. All eyes were on Damon.

“If you and your friends lose,” Damon declared, his voice unwavering, “you will all become Aria’s school pets.”

A collective gasp rippled through the club. The term “school pet” carried a specific, humiliating connotation. It meant complete subservience. Doing whatever their owner commanded. Defending their owner’s honor and serving their owner’s interests. It was equivalent to becoming their footman.

Ernie’s initial smirk remained, though a flicker of unease crossed his face. The prospect of having Aria as his “slut,” as he’d thought, still outweighed the risk. “School pets?” Ernie scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Fine, Newton! Whatever, you’re on. And my friends and I are going to have a lot of fun with Aria tonight!”

Damon ignored the crude remark, his eyes burning with a cold fire. He activated the “Display Account Balance” feature. As he looked at each person, their financial details popped up in his mental vision.

He focused on Ernie. ‘$250,000, all spendable.‘

Then Xavier. ‘$300,000, all spendable.‘

He glanced at Beatrice, Chloe, and Daphne, who were now huddled with Jane, looking smug. ‘$100,000 each, all spendable.‘ That was $750,000 already.

He quickly scanned the other known rich kids in Xavier and Ernie’s circle. Their individual balances flashed before his eyes. He mentally tallied them up and the total came to $1,500,000.

Damon’s heart gave a slight lurch. He had $800,000 left, but he was still short. But then he remembered the reward ticket; he had a trump card.

Ernie, oblivious to Damon’s internal calculations, puffed out his chest. “Manager!” he bellowed, waving over the club manager, a portly man whose eyes gleamed with avarice. “What’s the most expensive drink in this establishment?”

The manager, sensing a lucrative opportunity, rubbed his hands together. “Ah, Mr. Cooper, an excellent question. We have a range, sir, from our premium champagnes at $10,000 a bottle all the way up to our vintage cognacs at $25,000 per bottle.”

“Excellent!” Ernie declared, pulling out his phone. “Transfer $100,000 to this club’s account. I want $100,000 worth of your finest drinks distributed to every table in this club. Except Damon’s VIP lounge, of course.”

A roar of cheers erupted. “Ernie! Ernie! Ernie!” The club went wild, and bartenders scrambled, bottles popped, and within minutes, expensive drinks began to roll out to every corner of the club.

Xavier, not to be outdone, stepped forward. “I’ll match that, Ernie! Another $100,000!” He quickly made the transfer.

The club exploded. Two hundred thousand dollars splashed on drinks just like that. Everyone turned to Damon, waiting for his response as the air crackled with anticipation.

Damon smiled, a slow, confident smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He activated the System again.

“Manager!” Damon called out, his voice cutting through the celebratory din. “How much to buy out all the VIP lounges in this club for the entire night?”

The manager, whose eyes had been glued to the incoming transfers, blinked. “Sir… all of them? There are seven VIP lounges, including this one. That would be… a significant sum, sir. Roughly $250,000 for the night.”

“Done,” Damon said, without a moment’s hesitation. He initiated a transfer of $250,000. The manager’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as his phone buzzed with the notification.

“Bouncers!” the manager yelled, his voice suddenly booming with authority. “Every VIP lounge in this club is now under the ownership of Mr. Damon Newton for the night! Go! Rename them, now!”

The club’s bouncers, burly men with stern faces, immediately sprang into action. They marched towards each VIP lounge, pulling down existing signage and replacing it with hastily printed signs that read, “Damon Newton’s VIP Lounge.”

“Alright, everyone in a VIP lounge!” Damon announced, his voice carrying over the loudspeakers, amplified by the club’s sound system. “Effective immediately, these lounges are mine. You have two options: you can rent your space from me for the night, or you can leave. My bouncers are at my disposal to ensure compliance.”

Jane, who had been watching in stunned silence from her specially chosen VIP lounge, gasped. “What?!” she shrieked, jumping to her feet. “You can’t do this, Damon! This is my party, and this is my lounge!”

“Your party, Jane,” Damon said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion, “but my lounge. The rent is $5,000 per person for the night. Or $25,000 per lounge for the entire group. Pay up, or move to the general area.”

Chaos erupted as people in the VIP lounges, who had been enjoying their exclusive space, suddenly found themselves facing a hefty bill.

Ernie, his face a mask of disbelief, stared at Damon. “You… you bought them all?”

“Indeed,” Damon confirmed. “Now, are you paying for your lounge, Ernie? Or are you moving?”

Ernie gritted his teeth as he couldn’t back down now. “Fine! $25,000, transferring now!” He quickly paid for his lounge, his face a furious red.

Xavier, equally stunned, followed suit. “And mine!” he snarled, transferring $25,000 for his lounge, where Beatrice, Chloe, and Daphne were now looking terrified.

The other VIP lounges struggled and some groups insisted on splitting the cost per person, leading to arguments. Two of the VIP lounges, unable to gather the funds, had their occupants escorted out by the bouncers, their seats immediately taken by eager general admission guests who now had a chance to experience VIP.

Damon watched the transactions roll in. Each $25,000 payment for a lounge, or the collective $5,000 per person payments, added up. He had purchased six additional lounges besides his own. Each lounge paid him $25,000. That was $150,000 in immediate income.

He had spent $250,000 to buy the lounges and he had just made back $150,000. His net spend on this move was only $100,000.

A slow, satisfied smile finally spread across Damon’s face as this was just the beginning.