CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 31

The air around Unit 7 crackled with tense energy. Evelyn’s eyes locked onto Ace burning with a fierce intensity as her mind raced through shadowy digital alleyways and scrolling forum posts—all pieces of a puzzle no one else could see.

She paced slowly, fingers tapping her chin as she muttered "Deke’s usual haunts..." Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet each word cut sharply through the silence.

"It has to be the pawnshop" she finally said narrowing her eyes. "That’s where he hides in plain sight—laundering money, stirring trouble, selling stolen goods. It’s full of people who don’t ask any questions."

She paused, then said, "There’s also that Dive Bar on 5th. You know the type where the cheap whiskey that burns all the way down, dim lights that hide more than they reveal. It’s the kind of place people ignore. A perfect hideout for someone who wants to disappear without leaving town."

She looked at Ace, her expression serious, almost like a warning. "And maybe that run down place on Harbor Street. Word is, he hides stuff there. It could be money. Could be weapons. Could be anything he thinks might help him escape when things fall apart."

Evelyn tilted her head, watching Ace closely. "You need to get close to him. But not too close where he can see you easily. You don’t want to be found out, do you? You just need to be close enough for your audio gear to pick up everything. When people are in these type of situation they usually panic easily and when they do, they get loud and sloppy."

She took a deep breath. The weight of what she was asking hung heavy in the room.

"Listen for his voice, Ace. Or his crew. Anything about money, running, hiding or Ramos. Even the smallest clue could help us."

Her eyes narrowed, intense. "This is your shot. Don’t mess it up."

Ace nodded slowly. He could feel the power of his Audio Enhancement ability buzzing in his body like it was always there and demanding his attention. In the corner of his vision, the System’s countdown quietly ticked: 9 days, 7 hours, 32 minutes. Each second was a cold reminder of how little time he had left.

The penalty if he failed? A permanent minus 20% breakdown of his body. Not pain like a punch or a bullet.

He swallowed hard and muttered under his breath "There is no place for mistakes and hesitation."

He reminded himself this was a calculated risk. That thought helped steady him. From now on, every decision had to be careful and exact. If he played it too safe, he’d fall behind. But if he rushed, he could lose everything.

He tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "I can’t wait too long... but I can’t charge in blind either."

"I will Start with the pawnshop" Ace said firmly, speaking low but clear. He met Evelyn’s eyes, the weight of the moment pressing on them both. "It’s his base. If Deke’s scrambling, panicking... that’s where he might hit first."

He reached for his dark jacket hanging by the door, fingers brushing the familiar fabric with a mix of comfort and resolve. Sliding his hand into the pocket, he felt the reassuring bulk of the voice recorder nestled there, its presence a small anchor in the chaos. The SD card, the irrefutable proof rested zipped safely inside his jeans, close but well hidden.

Ace took a deep breath, pulling the jacket on. "I’ll be careful" he added, a faint edge of grit strengthening his words. "You should also stay sharp and eyes open for any unusual activities.

Evelyn reached out, her hand briefly gripping his forearm. Her touch was firm, grounding. "You better be careful. If Mike has hired extra muscle then Deke’s definitely rattled. When a guy like that isn’t thinking straight, trust me it makes him unpredictable and dangerous."

Ace met her gaze, the unspoken understanding passing between them. He moved carefully through the Nite Owl’s parking lot, his newly enhanced hearing dialed up to Passive Awareness. The sounds were layered, complex, but manageable now. He filtered out the distant traffic, the rustling leaves, focusing on the immediate vicinity. He heard Joey, the new security guy, whistling softly near the dumpsters, the rhythmic crunch of his boots on gravel. Good, Ace thought, letting relief wash through his tension. The signals were clear. Eyes were open. No one was turning a blind one tonight.

Ace avoided main roads, slipping through alleys and side streets on the way to Deke’s pawnshop. The shop wasn’t far: a grim building with barred windows, tucked between worn down storefronts. As he got closer, he activated Focused Filtering, quieting the city’s background noise and amplifying the sounds emanating from the shop’s vicinity.

He found a vantage point across the street, tucked into the recessed doorway of a long-closed bakery. The smell of stale bread and dust mingled with the ever-present city grime. He focused his hearing directly on the pawnshop. The heavy metal security gate was down over the main door and windows, but a narrow side alley led to what looked like a reinforced back entrance.

At first, the only sound sneaking out from the pawnshop was the muffled thump of bass from an old radio playing somewhere inside—steady, almost hypnotic. But then, beneath the bass, sharp voices pierced the cheap walls and the stagnant alleyway air. The tone was angry, frantic, full of panic and frustration bleeding through every word.

"...Gotta be somewhere, Jax! Ramos ain’t playin’ games anymore!" The voice was young, high pitched, trembling with fear and impatience. It was one of Deke’s usual thug, the kid Ace had seen lurking near the Nite Owl before. "You heard the rumors this morning, right? People saying the big boss himself is looking for Deke personally. That’s no small thing!"

"Shut up, Benny!" A gruffer, more familiar voice came. Jax, the heavier thug who’d ransacked Ace’s workshop. "Boss is working on it! Just keep your mouth shut and watch the damn alley!"

"Working on it? He’s been locked in the back office since dawn yelling at people on the phone! Sounds like he’s begging!" Benny’s voice trembled. "What about the lockbox? He always said if things went south..."

"Don’t even think about the lockbox!" Jax snapped, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper Ace barely caught. "That’s his last resort! If you mention that again, and it won’t be Ramos you gotta worry about!"

Lockbox. The word echoed in Ace’s mind. Deke’s last resort. What could it be? Hidden money? Evidence? Something valuable enough to be a bargaining chip with Ramos... or an escape fund. This was it. The edge Evelyn talked about.

Suddenly, the back door of the pawnshop slammed open with a metallic crash. Deke Vance erupted into the alley. Even from across the street, Ace could see the wild panic in his eyes, the unshaven jaw clenched tight, the tremor in his hand as he shoved a cheap burner phone into his pocket. His usually slicked back hair was disheveled.

"Jax!" Deke barked, his voice hoarse, stripped of its usual swagger. His voice sounded like he was in a desperate situation. "Get the car! Now! The black one, not the van! And throw that piece-of-crap phone!"

Jax scrambled. "Where are we going Boss?"

"None of your business! Just drive!" Deke ran a shaky hand over his face, pacing like a caged animal. He lowered his voice, but Ace strained, focusing his enhancement, pushing it, ignoring the warning throb starting behind his temples. "We need to make the drop. Before noon. You know the place. The usual drop. Just... just get me there. Fast."

"The usual drop?" Jax asked, pulling keys from his pocket, heading towards a nondescript black sedan parked deeper in the alley. "You sure, Boss? After... everything?"

"YES, I’M SURE!" Deke roared, the sound echoing off the brick walls. He flinched, glancing around wildly, as if expecting Ramos’s enforcers to materialize from the shadows. He lowered his voice again, a desperate hiss Ace barely caught. "It’s the only thing left. The only thing that might... might... buy me some time. Or a head start. Now MOVE!"

Jax yanked open the driver’s door. Deke practically dove into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut. The engine roared to life, it was too loud and frantic. The black sedan screeched out of the alley, fishtailing slightly as it hit the main street and accelerated away.

Ace slumped back against the grimy bakery door, breathing hard. The focused amplification had cost him a sharp, insistent migraine pulsed behind his eyes, a warning from the System not to push too hard. But he had it. Crucial information.

The Lockbox: Deke’s secret lifeline, his last resort mentioned by the thug Benny which was confirmed by Deke’s frantic need for it.

The Drop: Deke was heading to a ’usual drop’ location before noon to access or deliver whatever was in that lockbox. Something he thought could buy him time or an escape from Ramos.

Desperation Level: Critical. Deke wasn’t just scared, he was in full-blown panic mode, making rushed, dangerous moves.

Ace pulled out his phone, the harsh glow of the screen cutting through the dim alley like a spotlight. He winced, shielding his eyes for a moment against the sudden brightness then quickly typed out a message to convey the gravity of the situation.

Ace: I have just overheard Deke at the pawnshop. He’s in total panic mode. Ramos rumors are flying. Deke has a secret "lockbox" - his thugs called it his "last resort." He just ordered Jax to drive him to make a "drop" at his "usual drop location" BEFORE NOON TODAY. He thinks whatever’s in the lockbox might buy him time or an escape from Ramos. I don’t know where the "usual drop" is. I need you to find its location fast. They left in a black sedan.

He pushed send, then leaned his head back, closing his eyes against the throbbing pain. The sedan was gone, but the sound of Deke’s raw terror, the screech of tires, echoed in his enhanced hearing. The clock was ticking louder than ever. 9 Days, 7 Hours, 15 Minutes. Deke was making his move. Ace had to intercept it. The lockbox wasn’t just Deke’s lifeline; it might be the key to neutralizing him permanently. And Ace had less than four hours to find out where this usual drop was. The hunt had just accelerated, and the price of failure was a permanent, crippling weakness he couldn’t afford.