Chapter 16: Chapter 16: A Fresh Start

“Looks like I don’t have much choice,” Lance said, neatly placing the two contracts back on the desk. “But this is probably my best option.”

He paused briefly. “So, when do I start?”

Alberto didn’t send him out right away. Instead, he asked, “What about your bakery job?”

“It’s just twenty bucks. I’ll manage.”

Alberto pulled open a drawer, took out a roll of bills, and handed Lance forty dollars. “Here’s forty as an advance. I hope it’s worth every penny!”

Lance accepted the money. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“Go find Fordis; he’ll set you up with some tools to help collect those debts.”

“Now get to work. I’ll be waiting for good news!”

Lance stood, straightened his clothes, and headed out.

When he reached the main hall, Fordis was already waiting for him, having been briefed by Alberto.

Fordis led him to a small shed near the parking lot. “What kind of weapon do you prefer? Baseball bat, knife, or hunting blade?”

“But I don’t recommend anything too lethal to start. If you accidentally kill one of our valued clients, the boss will have your hide—unless you can cover the loss!” Fordis chuckled, opening the door to reveal an assortment of weapons: baseball bats, knives, hunting blades, metal pipes, and steel bars hanging everywhere.

“Got any guns?”

Fordis’s smug grin faltered. “Firearms are with Stone. You’ll meet him eventually, but not now. You need permission from the boss for guns, though you’re free to buy one yourself.”

Fordis then pointed to a bat decorated in red, blue, and white. “Here, try this! Official bat of the Jingang City Sailors. I love their games—this season, they’re winning it all!”

Fordis handed over the bat with enthusiasm. “First, learn how to handle a bat. Then think about other weapons.”

“Our job is to help people who need cash get through tough times, and then, when they’ve made it through, collect what’s owed. We don’t harm anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Got it?”

Fordis emphasized this point, and then led Lance back out. “Pick a car. Can’t have you and your friends running around on foot to do our work…”

Lance’s eyes lit up as he scanned the luxurious cars gleaming in the sunlight. But Fordis turned him around, pointing at a row of dirty, worn-out vehicles in the alley. “Those are more your speed.” R̃åŊȏＢĘ𝘴

Lance scratched his head, wondering if those heaps even ran. “Are these cars even drivable?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Fordis opened the door to one, and as he tugged, the whole door fell off with a loud clunk.

A mechanic emerged from a nearby warehouse, looking irritated. “That one just came in! The others are fine—why’d you pick that one?”

The mechanic, Jamie, wore grimy overalls and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. “Is this our new guy?”

Fordis smirked. “Not exactly, but we’ll be working together for a while.” Introducing Jamie, Fordis said, “If you watch racing, you’ll know Supersonic Racing Team—Jamie here was their #2 mechanic. Some things went south, and now he’s working for the boss.”

Jamie shrugged, “I owed the boss a favor, so I’m paying him back.” After a pause, he pulled a set of keys from a row on the wall and tossed them to Lance. “Go try out your new ride—the brown one. Tuned it up myself.”

Many debtors couldn’t repay in cash, so the company took their cars as compensation. Luxury cars were rented out or resold, while others went to second-hand dealers. Those that didn’t sell stayed here, ready for future use.

Lance awkwardly started the car, adjusting to its quirks. It was an old model with a hand throttle—a relic that had its throttle control on the right side of the steering wheel. You pulled back to accelerate, and it had a simple cruise control system using notches to keep the throttle steady.

After a bit of practice, he got the hang of it. While unusual, the hand throttle wasn’t too inconvenient once he adjusted. Lance stashed the bat in the trunk, bid farewell to Fordis and Jamie, and drove off.

Once he got comfortable on the road, Lance headed to the bridge near the docks where Elvin and the others were staying. He stopped by a store, spending two dollars on ten packs of cigarettes and a box of matches. By the time he reached the bridge, forty minutes had passed.

A few heads poked out from under the bridge at the sound of honking, and Elvin looked on in disbelief as Lance leaned casually against the car, cigarette in hand.

“Where’d you get the car?” one of his friends exclaimed as they rushed over.

A familiar, unwashed scent wafted from the group. It wasn’t their fault; without proper facilities and with only the polluted river nearby, baths weren’t an option.

They gathered around the ancient car, admiring it. Lance handed out cigarettes to his friends.

“Mr. Corti—the one we owe—gave us a job. If we help him recover two debts, our debt’s wiped clean, plus we get some perks.”

He patted the car. “This is part of the deal. I need four volunteers to come with me. Who’s in?”

Elvin stepped forward immediately. “I’m going.”

Ethan thumped his chest. “Me too. I owe you.”

Mello was about to volunteer, but Lance stopped him. “You should stay here. You’re a bit older and better at handling sudden situations calmly.”

“If anything happens, delay as long as possible. We’ll be back soon.”

He picked two more from the group, and they climbed in. Ethan sat in the passenger seat, causing the car to sink slightly.

Curious, Lance asked, “What’s your weight?”

Ethan looked sheepish. “One hundred eighty pounds. Though I’ve lost a bit.”

Elvin chuckled from the backseat, “Don’t listen to him. The scale only goes up to one eighty!”

Ethan glared, “Shut it, or people might think you’re mute!”

As they drove, their banter gradually faded. They rolled down the windows, letting the hot, dry wind in.

Their first target was Kandler, an insurance company employee who had borrowed a thousand dollars from Alberto and was overdue on repayment. Word had it he was planning to skip town.

“Are we gonna rough him up?” Ethan asked as they neared the destination.

Lance, eyes on the road, replied without looking back, “Depends on how cooperative he is…”