CHAPTER 56: PREPARATION

Maximus sat deep in the back seat of the taxi, one arm slung over the window edge as he watched the nightlife blur by. The city glowed like a sleeping beast, his reflection in the glass looked tired but thoughtful, haloed in a spectrum of colours hovering across his jawline.

"Take me to the Central City impound lot," he told the driver as the car began to pick up acceleration speed.

The driver barely grunted in response, jerking the vehicle with more speed. No small talk needed, no nonsense. Just the way Maximus like it.

The silence was a kind of music. The hum of the engine, the distant sirens, the muffled thud of bass leaking from a club they passed— it all came together like a lullaby for the sleepless. He leaned his head back and exhaled softly, closing his eyes for a moment.

Dressa Morgan.

His lips tugged into a faint smile.

"Hope she fell right asleep..." he muttered, his voice low. The way she’d handled herself tonight, it was bold and graceful, he was happy to see that there was more to that woman than met the eye. And Maximus had learned from his experiences never to underestimate someone who could walk through fire and not flinch.

But that warmth quickly faded, replaced by a colder storm that brewed in his head.

Who were these people? The ones searching for him with such determination they’d send a full team out like hounds? He had never considered himself as someone that needed to be watched.

His brow furrowed.

But before the thoughts could settle, the car screeched slightly to a stop.

"N*****, pay me and get the fuck out."

Maximus blinked, his reality returning to that of the present.

The words didn’t register at first, like a record scratch in the wrong song. He sat upright, slowly turning to the driver. A gaunt man in his late forties, pale and had a stubble on his face, red rimmed eyes from either lack of sleep or just too damn much of whiskey.

"What did you just say?" Maximus asked, his voice a steady calm that was far more terrifying than rage.

"I said pay me, you piece of shit and get the fuck outta my vehicle," the man spat again, letting that venomous fly once more.

"Fucking N****"

Maximus was quiet, way too quiet for someone that had just been disrespected unprovoked. He reached into his hoodie pocket and handed the man the cash with the elegance of a noble at war. "I’ll pay you man, but you don’t have to say such damn things."

The driver snatched the cash, looked him dead in the eye and hissed, "Get the fuck out of my vehicle, monkey."

Maximus exhaled from his nostril and stepped out slowly, closing the door without a slam, without a shout either. He stood there for a second, the neon reflections dancing on his obsidian eyes. He looked at the man.

Memorized the face, every age made wrinkle, every gluten made freckle and he burned it into his memory like a photograph branded onto his mind.

"No one disrespects me and gets away with it, you’ll find your way back to me someday... and when you do..." he told himself and turned away.

On facing the impound lot, the night embraced him like a whisper. It had been a while since he last came to this place, when he started his investment journey with the mobile kitchen investment, so to some extent this place held some value to him.

The crickets were in full symphony now, joined by the deep-throated croaks of frogs lurking near puddles and drainage tunnels. The impound lot stood ahead, quiet and dimly lit, the scent of engine oil and rust clinging to the breeze.

A single light buzzed overhead like it was trying to stay awake.

An older man in a wornout jumpsuit rushed to meet him.

"Ah! Thank god! You’re the owner, right?! Of that gray beast that parked itself without a driver?!" he shouted, voice crackling like a bad radio.

Maximus smirked. "That would be me."

The man damn near gasped. "Brother, when I saw that demon-possessed car glide in here and just...woosh! Park itself all smooth like magic, I nearly pissed myself! No joke!"

He kept going, eyes wide, animated like a street preacher, "I said to myself, ’Is this the end of times? Am I dreaming?! should I call a priest or 911?" he shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. "But I knew. I knew whoever owned it was no ordinary man."

Maximus chuckled, reaching into his pocket again and handing the man a wad of cash. "For the trouble kind sir. And for not touching it."

The man looked down at the cash like it was glowing with some kind of radiant energy. "Jesus on a jet ski!!! this is... this is a blessing!"

Then, in one fluid, hilarious motion, the man dropped to his knees.

"Let me kiss your feet oh lord!"

Maximus raised his hands. "Whoa, whoa...chill. You’re very welcome. But you don’t have to worship me, man."

The man scrambled back up, laughing nervously. "Sorry, sorry. Just got a little too excited. You’re just like royalty man. You didn’t even flinch when I started shouting."

Maximus shrugged. "I’ve had a really fucking long night."

With that, he strolled over to the sleek beast waiting for him— Obsidian, gray and quietly humming with life like it had been itching to move again.

He slid into the driver’s seat and sat there for a while, letting the silence settle, fingers drumming softly on the wheel.

"Time to go prepare for the auction event with my ’fiance’..." he muttered with a crooked smile.

Maximus hit the road with the sleek obsidian slicing through the quiet night like a predator on cruise mode. He leaned against he leather of the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually by the gear stick, his eyes flicking between the road and his own thoughts.

He had to focus.

Tomorrow’s auction event wasn’t just a billionaire pastime, it was going to be a financial tug of war with the richest and must strategic taking the most priced materials. Every object placed under that spotlight would be a battlefield. Only difference? These battles were won with smirks, wealth and razor sharp sense of value. Luckily for him, he had something better than any portfolio of assets he had the Investment God System.

And with that the system had granted him Eye Of Apollo.

He smirked faintly asd the name echoed in his head. It sounded ridiculously overpowered because it was.

Three times was the limit he could use the skill in one day before it locked up tighter than a bank vault. So whatever items he laid eyes on, he had to pick carefully.

The system would show him the true market value of anything he focused on. No auctions, no stripped down numbers.

Still, the social part was almost just as important.

He needed to build bridges. Shake the right hands. Flash the right smile and exchange a few fake laughs and maybe a real one if anyone surprised him. Central city’s elite would be at that event, and Maximus planned to leave with more than just three items.

By the time the Obsidian approached the nature side, the chaos of the city had given way to peaceful stillness. The fumming of frogs and crickets had replaced the bass lines and honking horns. A certain kind of calm that only came with expensive silence.

Then, through the trees and into the clearing, his home revealed itself.

Stood there like a shadow clad fortress in the moonlight as he neared it, the heavy duty metal gates slowly creaked open, the sound smooth and almost ceremonial.

Two of his bodyguards flanked the entrance like statues. Six foot plus, built like tanks and wearing suits.

Maximus rolled down the window slightly as the obsidian purred to a halt.

"Late night sir?" one of them asked with a respectful tone but still somehow casual.

Maximus gave a nod, running a hand through his braids, "Yeah. Be extra watchful tonight."

They didn’t ask why, they just nodded professionally and resumed their earlier composure.