Chapter 5
1076 Words
Chapter 5: The Flip
The scooter coughed and rattled as I cut through the back streets of Overtown. The map overlay in my vision glowed soft blue, arrows guiding me like a GPS only I could see. 1.2 miles turned into 0.8, then 0.4. My heart was hammering louder than the engine.
The address popped up on a rundown block near NW 3rd Avenue. A two-story building squeezed between a boarded-up bodega and a vacant lot overgrown with weeds. Faded sign above the door: "Overtown Corner Store – Est. 1987." Windows cracked, paint peeling, chain-link fence sagging around a small parking area out back. Looked like it had been empty for years.
I killed the engine and stepped off. The mist had stopped, leaving everything slick and shiny under the streetlights. A single bulb flickered above the entrance.
The system chimed.
[Distressed Property Detected]
[Current Market Value: $120,000 (potential after minor reno: $180k+)]
[Asking Price: $85,000 (seller motivated – foreclosure imminent)]
[Owner Contact: Elena Ramirez (on-site)]
[Intelligence Boost Suggestion: Activate Business Insight Lv. 1 for 400 NP to evaluate deal viability]
I had 750 points. Spending 400 would drop me to 350, but if this was the play, I needed every edge.
I mentally selected it.
A warm pulse ran through my temples. Suddenly numbers and facts flooded my mind like someone had flipped a switch.
Renovation costs estimate: $25–35k for basic refresh (paint, fixtures, security). Foot traffic potential: high (near bus stop, residential density). Zoning: commercialesidential mixed. Comparable sales in last 6 months: three similar properties flipped for $165k–$210k.
Profit margin if I bought at $85k, fixed up cheap, sold in 3–6 months: $50k–$90k net.
My breath caught.
This could be it. First asset. Mission complete in hours, not days.
I pushed through the gate. The door was unlocked. A bell jingled weakly as I stepped inside.
The place smelled like dust and old coffee. Empty shelves, scuffed linoleum, a counter with a dusty cash register still plugged in. A woman in her fifties sat on a folding chair behind the counter, scrolling on her phone under a bare bulb. She looked up, startled.
“Can I help you?” Her voice was tired, accent thick Cuban.
“Ms. Ramirez?” I asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s asking?”
“Jax Reyes. I saw the for-sale sign out front. Thought I’d take a look.”
She studied me—wet hoodie, bruised face, expensive watch that didn’t match the rest of me. “You don’t look like a real estate guy.”
“I’m not,” I admitted. “But I’m looking to buy something. This place caught my eye.”
She laughed, short and bitter. “Caught your eye? It’s falling apart. Bank’s taking it in two weeks if I don’t sell. I’ve been trying for months. Nobody wants this headache.”
I walked slowly around the space. The system’s insight kept feeding me details: plumbing solid, roof needs patching but not replacement, electrical up to code last inspection. Bones were good.
“How much are you asking?” I already knew, but I wanted to hear it from her.
“Eighty-five. Cash. No contingencies. Take it as-is.”
I stopped at the counter. “What if I can close fast? Like, tomorrow?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You got that kind of money?”
I pulled out my phone, opened the banking app, and turned the screen so she could see the balance. $60,047.32.
Her eyes widened. “Where’d a kid like you get that?”
“Long story,” I said. “But it’s real. And I can get the rest quick.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms. “Why this place? You could buy something nicer.”
“Because it’s here,” I said. “In the neighborhood. People need a*****e. I need a start. And I think we both need this deal done yesterday.”
She stared at me for a long beat. Then sighed.
“Fine. Eighty-five. But I want proof of funds tonight. And no lowballing tomorrow.”
“Deal.”
I extended my hand. She shook it. Her grip was firm, calloused.
As she started pulling out paperwork from a drawer, the system chimed again.
[Business Insight Lv. 1 Active: Negotiation window open.]
[Suggested Offer: $78,000 cash, close in 48 hours. Seller fatigue high – 85% acceptance chance.]
I hesitated. Then went with it.
“Ms. Ramirez… Elena. What if I do seventy-eight? Cash wire tomorrow morning. I handle all closing costs. We sign tonight.”
She froze. Looked at the papers in her hand.
“That’s low.”
“I know. But you get out clean. No more waiting. No more bank calls. And I fix this place up, bring it back to life. Jobs for the block. You know how much that means here.”
She chewed her lip. The system insight ticked: acceptance chance jumped to 92%.
After a long silence, she nodded once.
“Seventy-eight. But you better not screw me.”
“I won’t.”
We spent the next hour going over the basic purchase agreement she had printed from some online template. I signed where she pointed. She signed. I took photos of everything with my phone.
When it was done, she handed me the keys.
“Lock up when you leave. I’ll be gone by morning.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
She paused at the door. “You’re not what you look like, are you?”
I smiled faintly. “Not anymore.”
She left. The bell jingled behind her.
I stood alone in the empty store, keys heavy in my palm.
The interface flashed.
[Asset Acquisition In Progress]
[Property secured at $78,000 (pending funding).]
[Mission progress: 92%. Fund transfer required to complete.]
I had $60k. Needed another $18k.
The system chimed softly.
[Quick Point Opportunity: Sell current luxury watch (replica value boosted by system). Estimated payout: $18,500 via instant pawn/collector buyer nearby.]
A new arrow appeared on the map—pointing three blocks away to a 24-hour pawn shop.
I looked around the dark store one more time.
This was mine now. Or would be in hours.
I stepped outside, locked the door, and started walking.
The neon skyline glittered ahead.
Seventy-two-hour timer? I was about to crush it in one night.
And the empire was just beginning to take shape.
(To be continued…)
- Writer
