The Absolute Misfortune System: Chaos Regressed

5. The Auction of Errors

Ravelk hit the cool night air, his neck stinging and his heart racing. He had escaped the law, but he had a feeling he had just walked into a much tighter trap. He ducked into a dark alleyway two blocks from the club, leaning his forehead against the cold brick.

“System,” he rasped, his voice cracking. “Can you at least stop my neck from itching? It feels like there’s a damn hornet under my skin.”

[ Note: The tracker is a physical object. The System does not interfere with the ‘Gifts’ of your fans. ]

“Fans? He’s a psycho with a hobby in human tagging,” Ravelk muttered, rubbing the small, hard lump at the base of his skull. “Fine. Whatever. Just give me a status update. How much time do I have before the Bureau figures out I didn’t jump off Zhaevik’s balcony?”

[ Alert: Investigation Bureau resources are currently diverted by a ‘Localized Power Surge’ near the Lux Aeterna. ]

[Recommendation: Spend 200 Misfortune Points to acquire a ‘Temporary Disguise’ from a nearby thrift bin. ]

“Two hundred points for a dumpster dive? You’re a ripoff,” Ravelk sighed, but he tapped the screen anyway. “Do it. I can’t exactly walk around looking like a lottery-winning coal miner.”

Ten minutes later, Ravelk emerged from the shadows wearing an oversized trench coat and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses that made his eyes look three times their actual size. He looked less like a millionaire and more like a disgraced librarian, which was exactly the point.

He pulled a crumpled invitation from his pocket one he’d lifted from a drunk socialite’s coat during his escape. The Veyl Antiquities Gala. Hall 7, The Vault.

“Alright, let’s see what Mavrek Sorn is up to,” Ravelk whispered to himself. “If my memory serves, this is the night he picks up the ‘Heart of the Void.’ If he gets that artifact, the Sorn family becomes untouchable in six months. I can’t let that happen.”

The Vault was a reinforced subterranean gallery on the edge of the Diamond District. As Ravelk approached the heavy steel doors, two guards in charcoal suits stepped forward.

“Invitation, sir?” one asked, his eyes scanning Ravelk’s questionable attire.

“Here. Sorry, I had a bit of a tumble with a taxi on the way over,” Ravelk said, flashing the card. “Those drivers, right? Total maniacs.”

The guard looked at the card, then at Ravelk’s oversized glasses. “Mr. Pendergast? You look… different than your file photo.”

“Weight loss. It’s a miracle diet. Mostly stress and gravel,” Ravelk replied with a twitchy smile.

The guard shrugged and stepped aside. “Enter. The auction has already begun.”

The air inside was chilled and smelled of ozone and expensive cologne. In the center of the room, seated on a velvet-lined chair, was Mavrek Sorn. He looked exactly as Ravelk remembered: arrogant, with a jawline that looked like it had been sharpened on a whetstone and a smirk that suggested he owned the air everyone else was breathing.

“And next up, Lot 42,” the auctioneer announced, gesturing to a pedestal where a dusty, nondescript ceramic jar sat. “A late-era ceremonial vase from the Sunken Isles. Opening bid: fifty thousand credits.”

Ravelk slid into a seat at the back, keeping his head down. He caught the eye of Odrik Veyl, the man running the show, standing near the stage. Odrik was a man of cold precision, his hands folded behind his back like a headmaster waiting to catch a student cheating.

“Is that the artifact?” Ravelk whispered to the System.

[Negative. That is a ‘Vase of Stagnant Residue. Its value is purely historical. Estimated worth: 12,000 credits.]

“Perfect,” Ravelk smirked.

“Fifty thousand! Do I hear fifty-five?” the auctioneer called.

Mavrek Sorn raised his paddle with the bored grace of a king. “Sixty.”

“Seventy!” Ravelk called out, his voice disguised by a raspy cough.

Mavrek didn’t even turn around. “Eighty.”

“One hundred,” Ravelk shot back.

A murmur went through the room. Mavrek finally glanced back, his eyes narrowing as he tried to peer through Ravelk’s thick lenses.

“One hundred and twenty,” Mavrek said, his tone sharpening.

“One hundred and fifty,” Ravelk countered immediately.

Mavrek stood up slightly, leaning toward his assistant. “Who is that idiot? That vase is a paperweight.”

“Maybe he knows something we don’t, sir,” the assistant whispered.

“Two hundred thousand!” Mavrek barked, pointing his paddle at the stage.

“Two hundred and fifty,” Ravelk said, his heart hammering. He was spending credits he hadn’t even officially collected yet, but the System’s link to his ‘Lottery Identity’ was handling the digital verification.

“Three hundred!” Mavrek roared, his face flushing a dangerous shade of red. “I don’t know who you are, old man, but you’re out of your league!”

“Am I?” Ravelk stood up, putting on his best ‘secretive expert’ voice. “Some things are priceless to those who know how to open them, Mr. Sorn. Three hundred and fifty.”

Odrik Veyl stepped forward, his eyes darting between the two. “Gentlemen, please. Let’s keep the decorum.”

“Four hundred thousand credits!” Mavrek screamed. “It’s mine! Sit down and shut up!”

Ravelk paused, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You know what? You’re right. It’s all yours, Mavrek. Enjoy the vase.”

He sat back down, crossing his legs.

“Sold! To Mr. Sorn for four hundred thousand credits!”

Mavrek let out a huff of triumph, though his assistant looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Fool. Probably some collector who ran out of steam.”

The assistant hurried to the stage to collect the item. As he reached for the vase, Ravelk felt a familiar, icy chill crawl up his spine.

[ Warning: Misfortune Balance is reacting to the ‘Fraudulent Bidding’. ]

[ Note: The ‘Vase of Stagnant Residue’ is not just historical. It is pressurized. ]

“Wait, what?” Ravelk whispered. “Pressurized?”

[ Balancing Act: The excess heat from Mavrek’s anger has increased the ambient temperature. Thermal expansion initiated. ]

“Hey!” Ravelk shouted, standing up. “Don’t touch that! Put it down!”

“Back off, you crazy old bird!” the assistant snapped, grabbing the vase by its neck. “You lost! It’s ours!”

HISSSSSS.

A high-pitched whistle, like a boiling tea kettle, filled the room. A thin trail of green vapor began to leak from a hairline fracture in the ceramic.

“What is that?” Odrik Veyl demanded, his calm demeanor shattering. “Is that… a bio-hazard seal?”

“I think it’s a leak!” someone screamed.

“Get away from it!”

The assistant panicked, his hands shaking. The vase slipped from his fingers, hitting the marble floor with a sickening shatter. A thick, neon-green cloud erupted instantly, billowing upward like a mushroom cloud.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“BIO-HAZARD DETECTED. LEVEL 4 CONTAMINATION,” a mechanical voice boomed over the speakers.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Ravelk groaned, covering his nose with his sleeve.

“Lockdown initiated,” the voice continued. “Sealing all exits. Please remain calm and wait for the decontamination squad.”

Heavy titanium shutters slammed down over the doors with the force of a guillotine. The windows were covered by armored plates. The high-end auction hall was now a windowless, airtight tomb.

“You!” Mavrek Sorn lunged toward Ravelk, his expensive suit rumpled. “You did this! You drove up the price of a bio-weapon!”

“Me? You’re the one who bought it!” Ravelk shouted back, his voice muffled by his coat. “I was trying to save you from your own stupidity, Mavrek!”

“Save me? You almost bankrupted my assistant’s account for a jar of poison!”

“Enough!” Odrik Veyl’s voice cut through the shouting. He was standing by the control panel, his face grim. “The air filtration is failing. If that gas is what I think it is, we have about twenty minutes before our lungs turn into jelly.”

“Can’t you override the shutters?” a woman in a ballgown sobbed.

“The system is hard-wired,” Odrik said, his eyes scanning the room. He turned his gaze toward Ravelk, his eyes sharp and suspicious. “And you. ‘Mr. Pendergast,’ was it?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me. Just a guy who likes old pots,” Ravelk said, backing away.

“Nobody bids four hundred thousand on a pot they know is a hazard unless they want the room to go into lockdown,” Odrik said, stepping closer. His hand moved toward the holster at his hip. “This wasn't an accident. This was a setup.”

“A setup for what?” Mavrek demanded. “Look at him! He’s a bumbling idiot!”

“A bumbling idiot who just happened to trap the three most powerful families in the city in a room with a failing oxygen supply,” Odrik countered. He looked at the heavy vault at the back of the room, the one containing the actual Heart of the Void. “This isn’t a bio-hazard. It’s a distraction.”

Ravelk looked at the green gas, which was currently swirling harmlessly around a statue. He realized with a start that the gas wasn't moving toward the people it was being pulled into the ventilation ducts toward the vault.

“He’s right,” Ravelk whispered, looking at the System screen.

[ Alert: Calamity ‘The Locked Room Mystery’ in progress. ]

[ Note: The bio-hazard alarm has disabled the Vault’s internal security sensors. ]

“I didn't do this!” Ravelk yelled, pointing at the vault. “Someone else is using the gas to blind the security! Check the Heart!”

Odrik turned, his face pale. “If that vault opens during a lockdown, the entire building is programmed to self-destruct to prevent a breach.”

“Wait, what?” Mavrek’s eyes went wide. “Self-destruct? Are you insane?”

“It’s a high-security facility, Mavrek! What did you expect?” Odrik snapped.

A low, mechanical grinding sound echoed from behind the vault door.

“It’s happening,” Ravelk said, his hand reaching for his neck. The tracker was humming again, vibrating in sync with the vault’s machinery.

He looked at Odrik, then at the fuming Mavrek.

“Listen to me,” Ravelk said, his voice dropping the disguise and regaining its natural authority. “We have about ten seconds before this room becomes a crater. If you want to live, you need to help me break that control panel.”

Odrik narrowed his eyes, his hand tightening on his weapon. “Why should I trust a man in a fake mustache?”

“Because I’m the only one here who knows how to survive a disaster,” Ravelk barked. “Ask the guys at the Kain Plaza!”

Odrik froze. “Ravelk Morthan?”

“In the flesh. Now move!”