CHAPTER 21: CHAPTER 21

Ace woke with the first gray light of dawn filtering through the motel room’s dusty window. The memory of yesterday’s success – turning $100 of broken items into $800 cash was fresh, it warmed him briefly. He now had $986.35 in his pocket and $411.50 in the System. It was more money than he’d held in years. But the warmth faded quickly, replaced by the cold pressure of the System’s countdown. Twelve days left to stop Deke. And a new task: Find a secure workspace within seven days.

He couldn’t work out of Room 7 anymore. It was his home, his only refuge. He needed separation. Somewhere to store tools, work on projects, and plan without Deke’s thugs breathing down his neck. Somewhere Big Mike’s warning wouldn’t echo every time he opened the door.

After a quick breakfast of an apple and peanut butter, Ace pulled out his cheap phone. He searched online for storage units and small workshops for rent near the Nite Owl. He needed something affordable, private, and secure. The Neural-Interface helped him filter options quickly, highlighting three possibilities within his budget.

Ace’s first stop was a large, brightly lit storage facility a few blocks away. Inside, a friendly manager showed him a clean, climate-controlled unit roughly the size of a small closet. "Great for valuables or documents! Very secure!" she chirped. Ace thanked her politely but shook his head inwardly. Though the space was clean and safe, it was far too small for his needs. He required room to move and work on repairs—and the rent, around $120 a month, was steep for such limited use.

The second option was a dusty garage space attached to an old auto repair shop. The owner, a man with grease-stained hands, pointed toward a corner cluttered with old tires and engine parts. "You can clear a spot here," he said. "Fifty bucks a month, but no lock on the big door — it’s a shared space." Ace looked around. The space was large enough, but too exposed; anyone could walk in. It was not secure, and not what he needed.

Feeling discouraged, Ace made his way to the third choice: the Apex Mini-Storage lot, located just behind the Nite Owl Motel. It looked older and less fancy than the first place, with a rusty chain-link fence surrounding rows of identical metal storage units that, despite their wear, appeared solid. A small sign hung on the office door: "Manager: Hank."

Ace knocked on the door. Moments later, it swung open, revealing a thin, elderly man with glasses perched on his nose and a friendly, curious expression. "How can I help you, son?" he asked.

"Hi," Ace replied. "I called about renting a unit? Something where I can work, not just store things."

Hank nodded slowly. "Work in, huh? Not just store? Follow me." He grabbed a large ring of keys and led Ace down a row of units until they stopped at one marked ’B-17’. It was larger than the first unit Ace had seen—about the size of a small bedroom. Hank unlocked the heavy padlock and rolled up the metal door with a loud rattle.

Ace stepped inside. The space was empty, smelling faintly of dust and concrete. The floor was bare cement, the walls made of corrugated metal. A single, bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a pale glow. A small, high window near the ceiling let in a sliver of natural light. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was dry, private, and the solid metal door featured a heavy lock.

"This one’s ten by fifteen," Hank said, pointing around. "Big enough to set up a workbench and store some gear. Got power, too." He indicated a lone electrical outlet on the back wall. "Rent’s ninety a month, paid month-to-month. Damage deposit is fifty bucks."

Ace walked slowly around the space, imagining it. He could place his toolbox here, maybe find a cheap table for a workbench over there. It was away from the motel room — secure, private, and close enough to walk. The Neural-Interface confirmed: [Location: Adequate. Security: Moderate. Cost: Within Budget.]

"I’ll take it," Ace said firmly, pulling out his cash. He counted out $140 – $90 for the first month and $50 for the deposit – and handed it to Hank.

Hank smiled, pocketing the cash. "Good choice, son. Welcome to Apex." He handed Ace two identical keys for the heavy padlock. "Here you go—both keys for the lock. Just keep the place clean, and no loud banging after ten PM, and you’re good to go."

Ace took the keys. They felt heavy and important in his hand. He had a base. Task: Secure Operational Base – Complete!

As Hank walked away, the Neural-Interface chimed softly:

[Reward: Skill - "Network Ping" Acquired]

[Function: Passive Scan Detects Active Electronic Devices (Phones, Cameras, Wireless Signals) within 30ft Radius]

Ace focused. He could now feel a faint, new awareness humming at the edge of his senses. He concentrated on Hank walking away. A small, blinking signal appeared in his mind’s eye near Hank – his cell phone. Another steady signal came from the storage unit office – likely a computer. It was like having a tiny radar for electronics. Useful.

He spent the afternoon cleaning out Unit B-17 with a cheap broom and dustpan he bought. He swept the concrete floor until it was mostly dust-free. He used some of his remaining cash to buy a sturdy, second-hand worktable from a nearby thrift store for $25. He carried it back himself, setting it up against one wall. It wasn’t fancy, but it was solid. He placed his toolbox proudly on one end. His first piece of business furniture.

He stood in the center of his new space. It was bare, echoing slightly. But it was his. His workshop. His operational base. The System’s task was done. He had a place to work, to plan, to build Aegis Solutions away from the vulnerability of the motel room. And he had a new skill that might help him spot trouble before it found him.

But he needed more than space. He needed people he could trust. Mike’s warning about Deke sending "bigger fish" echoed. He needed security. He needed muscle and local knowledge. He needed Big Mike.

Ace locked the heavy padlock on Unit B-17 with a satisfying clunk. He walked back towards the Nite Owl office, the keys jingling in his pocket. He found Mike behind the counter, reading a car magazine.

"Mike," Ace said, keeping his voice level. "Got a minute?"

Mike looked up, his expression unreadable. "What now? Door trouble again?"

"No," Ace said. He pulled out his remaining cash. He had $986.35 - $140 (storage) - $25 (table) = $821.35. He counted out $300 in twenties and fifties and placed it neatly on the counter between them. "I need security. I need a local liaison. I need someone who knows how things work around here. I need you."

Mike stared down at the money for a long moment before slowly raising his gaze to Ace. "Three hundred bucks for what, exactly? Babysittin’ you?" His voice was rough but tinged with skeptical amusement.

Ace met his eyes steadily. "For your time and expertise." He placed the bills carefully on the counter. "Two hundred now, another hundred in a week. I need someone to help me navigate the next few weeks—to handle local problems." He didn’t mention Deke by name, but the unspoken weight hung between them. "Be my security consultant. My logistics guy. On a trial basis."

Mike was silent for a long moment, his gaze flicking between the money on the counter and Ace’s determined face. Finally, he grunted and reached out a large hand, scooping up the $200. "Consultant, huh? Fancy title." He shoved the cash into his pocket. "Alright, kid. You bought a week of my ’expertise’. Don’t make me regret it. What’s first?"

A wave of relief washed over Ace. Step one: base secured. Step two: security hired. Tomorrow, he would talk to Evelyn. His small team was beginning to take shape. The clock kept ticking for Deke, but for the first time, Ace felt like he was building something solid to stand on.