The Recycling System: From Scrap Collector to Billionaire

Chapter 7: Martial Arts Fanatic

"The thief's up ahead!" Jake snapped, irritation creeping into his voice.

The young officer froze, completely thrown.

At that exact moment, the middle-aged woman chasing from further back finally caught up enough to shout, "He's not the thief! Those two in the ski masks up ahead, that's who you want!"

The officer stood there stunned, but Jake had no time to spare on her confusion. He scrambled back to his feet and took off running.

He wasn't slow, and he closed the gap steadily, though it still took some real distance to catch up.

"You little punk, you're asking to get hurt!" one of the thieves finally snapped, skidding to a stop and turning to throw a punch at Jake.

Jake had already braced for it. One kick sent the guy crashing down.

The second one lunged in too, only to get dropped just as easily by a single punch.

By then the officer had finally caught up, and she wasted no time slapping cuffs on both men where they lay.

Only now did Jake get a proper look at her. She turned out to be surprisingly pretty, looked about his own age, dressed in a fitted athletic set, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, a round, cute face that hit just the right balance. Clearly she'd been out for a morning run herself before all this started.

Further down, she was... well-built, her figure clearly outlined under the athletic gear. Guess the "all muscle, no brains" stereotype exists for a reason, Jake thought, immediately feeling a little guilty about it.

Pretty, he decided, just a bit too blunt and hot-headed for her own good.

Catching Jake's eyes on her, the officer scowled and crossed her arms. "You're not the thief either, so why were you running?"

Jake nearly laughed out loud at that. "Would I have been running if you weren't chasing me?"

"Well if you run, of course I'm going to chase you! I thought you were a thief. Guys like you, I could take down two at once with one punch, don't test me." She threw a mock punch in his direction, clearly still stinging from getting flipped onto the pavement a minute earlier.

Jake didn't know whether to laugh or groan. Thankfully, the woman who'd lost her bag finally caught up and interrupted the whole exchange.

"Thank you so much! If it weren't for you, those two would've gotten clean away." She thanked him over and over, insisted on getting his contact info, and promised to properly repay him sometime.

Jake didn't have much choice but to hand it over. As for the officer, the woman just patted her shoulder, said "good work, officer," and went on her way, leaving Jake alone with her.

"If you hadn't gotten in my way, I would've caught those two myself," the officer said, still a little defiant.

Jake nodded along absently. She clearly had solid stamina, she hadn't even broken a sweat from the chase. But he had things to do, and no real interest in standing around chatting, so he started to excuse himself.

"Hey, you train? Is that why you're so fast?" She wasn't letting this go.

"Nah, I just happen to have decent endurance," Jake said, shaking his head.

"I don't buy it. Let's spar. I'm the top fighter in my whole unit, nobody on the squad can touch me!" She thumped her chest proudly, which, given her build, briefly caught Jake off guard.

"No fighting, no fighting, I really do have somewhere to be." Jake had zero interest in throwing hands with a young woman he'd just met. What actually surprised him more was learning she was a detective, he'd assumed she was just a regular beat cop.

"Fine, let's trade contact info then. Next time you're free, we settle this," she pressed, undeterred.

"Sure, sure, whatever works." Jake handed his info over without much fuss, no reason to turn down a pretty girl asking for his number.

Seeing how easily he agreed actually made her suspicious. "Wait, what's stopping you from just blocking me the second I walk away? You'd better not delete this. Where do you even live?"

Jake gave a pained smile. He hadn't expected this girl to be quite this obsessive about fighting. Clearly he wasn't getting out of this conversation without a real answer. "Officer, I really don't need to give you my whole life story, I just helped catch a thief."

"Oh, right, speaking of which, you're a witness at the scene. Come with me. These two still need processing at the station." Her eyes gleamed with sudden, calculated interest.

Oh, hell no. Jake wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. That absolutely would not work with his schedule today.

"Look, I'm opening a secondhand shop on Sunrise Avenue. It's not open yet, give it a couple days, but you can find me there anytime. I really do have somewhere to be right now, and I can't spar with you today."

"If you're lying to me, you're a dog." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"If I'm lying, I'm a dog," Jake said, dead serious.

Satisfied, she finally let it drop, muttering to herself, "Can't believe I caught a real thief on my very first day as a detective. Not a bad start at all. Guess I really am cut out for this line of work."

Jake wasted no time slipping away while she was distracted. Her ambition was admirable, sure, but she looked barely old enough to have graduated the academy.

He'd always heard detective work was brutal, exhausting hours, real danger. He genuinely wondered what kind of parents let their daughter sign up for a job that dangerous.

He didn't dwell on it for long, though. He had bigger things to worry about, namely, making money. Next stop: the biggest scrapyard in Fairview.

"Jake? What're you doing here so early?" Old Pete took a slow sip of his coffee, barely glancing up. "If you've got a haul, just drop it at the usual spot, I'll take a look once I finish this." He'd never thought much of Jake's operation; small-time scrap collectors like him rarely brought in anything worth real money.

"Pete, I'm actually done with scrap collecting. I just opened a secondhand shop, and I'm here to buy inventory from you," Jake said with a smile.

"Wait, you opened a store? You got that kind of money?" Old Pete nearly choked on his coffee. He knew exactly how tight Jake's finances had always been, otherwise why would the kid still be pedaling a busted-up cart around town for years?

"Turns out I do. Made over twenty-five grand a couple days ago," Jake said, deadpan.

"Ha! Since when do you exaggerate like this, kid? Please tell me you didn't fall for another one of those pyramid scheme things. Honestly, scrap collecting's still the most reliable racket out there." Pete rolled his eyes and sank back into his chair.

Jake nearly lost his cool. Great, so the whole neighborhood knows about the pyramid scheme thing. He had to wonder if Amy had been the one running her mouth about it.

"Forget the pyramid scheme, alright? I need broken appliances, the newer the model, the better. Doesn't matter how trashed they are, I'll pay top dollar." Jake pulled out a stack of cash, a thousand and some dollars he'd specifically withdrawn the day before and slapped it on the table.

Sure enough, the second Old Pete saw the cash, his whole demeanor shifted.

"Well now, Boss Jake, right this way, right this way. I'm telling you, across all of Fairview, you won't find inventory like mine anywhere else. Practically brand new, every piece."

"Brand new stuff ends up in a scrapyard?" Jake raised an eyebrow, a little skeptical.

"Don't worry about the details. Come on, forget the coffee, I'll show you right now. But fair warning, appliances aren't cheap. I was already planning to strip these down and sell them for parts. Since you're buying whole units, I'll cut you a deal, but don't expect it dirt cheap."

Jake just nodded along, not bothering to push back on Pete's usual haggling routine. As long as he still turned a profit himself, he had no problem letting the old man pad his margin a little.

And as for the scrap Pete was sitting on, after years in this business, Jake knew exactly what that inventory was actually worth. Junk worth a few bucks a pop. Pete wasn't going to be able to overcharge him by much either way.