THE WEALTH REDISTRIBUTION SYSTEM

The penthouse door was already open. Nate Worte stood in the hallway of the luxury apartment he could barely afford, the key card trembling in his hand. Valerie's breathy laughter drifted through the gap, the same laugh she had made when he proposed six months ago. But she wasn't laughing with him. He pushed the door open. Valerie's bare back arched against the silk sheets he had bought with his last paycheck. Dylan Garrison—his boss, his mentor, the man who had promised him a promotion, moved above her with the casual confidence of someone who had never been denied anything. "Nate!" Valerie gasped, scrambling for the sheet. Dylan didn't stop. He didn't even look over his shoulder. "We have an audience, sweetheart," Dylan said, his voice filled with amusement. "Should we give him a show?" The words made Nate's legs lock and his throat closed. "Dylan, please—" Valerie's voice cracked with something that might have been shame. "Please what?" Dylan finally turned, his handsome face splitting into a grin. "Please stop? Please go faster?" He laughed. "Your fiancé just bought you a penthouse and you're begging me. That's poetic." Nate's hands clenched into fists. "You son of a—" "Careful, Worte." Dylan stood, utterly shameless in his nakedness, utterly unthreatened. "You forget who signs your paychecks. Oh, wait." He snapped his fingers in mock realization. "You're fired. Effective immediately." The floor tilted beneath Nate's feet. "What?" "Did I stutter? You're done. Security will escort you out on Monday morning." Dylan pulled on his pants with maddening casualness. "Valerie, baby, tell him." She couldn't meet Nate's eyes. "I... I'm sorry, Nate. But you have to understand." "Understand what?" The words tore out of him. "That you're a w***e? That he's a—" The punch came from nowhere. Dylan's fist connected with Nate's jaw, snapping his head back. Pain exploded across his face as he stumbled into the hallway. "Watch your f*****g mouth when you talk about her." Dylan's voice went cold. "You think you can afford her? Look at yourself. Bargain suits and a leased car. This penthouse you can't even pay for without maxing out credit cards." Another punch. Nate's vision blurred. "You're nobody, Worte. You were always nobody." Dylan grabbed him by the collar, dragged him toward the elevator. "I gave you a job out of pity. Valerie dated you because she thought you would be something someday." Another kick at his ribs. "But you're not." His stomach now. "You'll never be." The elevator doors opened. Dylan shoved him inside and pressed the ground floor button. "If I see you again," Dylan said, straightening his cuffs, "I'll make sure you can't find work anywhere in this city. Are we clear?" The doors closed on Dylan's satisfied smile and Valerie's tearstreaked face. Nate collapsed against the elevator wall, tasting blood. Blood dripped from his nose, his mouth, somewhere above his eye. Every breath sent lightning through his ribs. The lobby was empty when he stumbled out. It was three in the morning. Of course, it was empty. Nobody to see him crawl toward the exit like a wounded animal. The night air hit his face like a slap. He made it half a block before his legs gave out. The alley was dark and wet. It smelled like piss and rotting garbage. Fitting, really. This was where people like him ended up—in the trash, forgotten, stepped over. Nate's vision dimmed at the edges. Blood pooled beneath his cheek. The cold concrete leeched the warmth from his body. Is this how it ends? No money. No job. No fiancée. No future. Dylan was right. He had always been right. Nate was nobody. He would die as a nobody. His eyes started to close. Then the screen appeared. It materialized in the air above him—translucent, glowing blue but too impossible to be real. Nate blinked, certain it was a hallucination. Blood loss or brain damage. Something. But it remained. [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION] SCANNING HOST... Name: Nate Worte Age: 24 Status: CRITICAL Net Worth: $47,832 Social Standing: 2/100 Desperation Index: 98/100 ANALYSIS COMPLETE Subject Status: SUITABLE Nate tried to speak. Blood bubbled from his lips instead. Then the screen changed. [WEALTH REDISTRIBUTION ALGORITHM] Version 7.3 You are dying, Nate Worte. I can save you. I can make you wealthy beyond imagination. I can give you the power to destroy those who destroyed you. In exchange, you will complete missions I assign. These missions may challenge your morality. They will reshape who you are. There is no going back. Do you accept this contract? [YES] ............... [NO] A hallucination. It had to be. The dying brain's last desperate fantasy. But Nate's hand moved anyway. Trembling and bloody. He reached toward the glowing screen, toward the word that promised everything he had lost and more. His finger touched [YES]. The world exploded in light. The pain he had been feeling vanished. The cold disappeared and warmth flooded through his body like liquid fire, knitting bone, sealing wounds, purging damage. Nate gasped, sucking in air that suddenly didn't hurt. He pushed himself up, staring at his hands that moments ago had been broken and bloody. Now? It was clean, whole, and perfect. The screen reappeared. [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION] CONTRACT ACCEPTED Host Status: RESTORED Initial Capital: $100,000,000 Deposited to Account: Status Upgrades: • Strength: 8/100 → 15/100 • Intelligence: 12/100 → 12/100 • Charisma: 6/100 → 6/100 • Luck: 3/100 → 25/100 MISSION LOADING... Please stand by. One hundred million dollars. Nate stood, his reflection catching in a puddle—no blood, no bruises, no trace of what Dylan had done to him. But he remembered. Oh, he remembered everything. The screen pulsed. [FIRST MISSION GENERATED] Target: Robert Myles Occupation: Landlord, 47 properties Crime: Illegally evicting tenants, embezzling security deposits MISSION: Expose his crimes and force him into bankruptcy Reward: $50,000,000 Time Limit: 72 hours Penalty for Failure: $25,000,000 [ACCEPT] ........... [DECLINE] Robert Myles. The landlord who had evicted Nate's family five years ago. Who had kept their security deposit and laughed when Nate's mother begged for more time. Nate's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Oh, I accept." The night suddenly felt full of possibility.