His mental checklist kicked into high gear as he stood there waiting.
First, lottery payout time—who knew how long that would take? Government workers weren’t exactly known for their speed. Then, he looked at the line in front of him: five people. Ugh, not ideal.
He glanced over at the teller. Slow. Very slow. She stared at the tickets like they held the meaning of life, like she was trying to decode some deep cosmic mystery.
Could he make it to a pawn shop before the timer ran out? Maybe, if this process didn’t take forever. That was the real issue—not the money, not the tickets—but time. Time was slipping away, and he could feel it ticking.
Because what if the lens shut off before he could find something valuable? What if he wasted it standing in line for a payout instead of hunting for hidden treasure?
The old Maluck—the one before the System—would have just stood there and waited like a normal person.
But this Maluck?
Nope.
This Maluck saw the guy in front of him holding up the line because he was arguing over a losing ticket.
“Oh, come on, I know this one’s a winner! The barcode must be smudged or something,” the guy was saying, pointing aggressively at the ticket.
The teller looked unimpressed. “Sir, this one says ‘TRY AGAIN.’ That means it’s not a winner.”
“Yeah, but what if—”
Maluck had no patience for this.
With an exaggerated sigh, he stepped up next to the guy, slapped his own stack of tickets on the counter, and flashed a $20 bill.
“Hey, buddy,” Maluck said, waving the bill like a bribe in a political thriller. “How about you take this, buy yourself a new ticket, and let the line move, huh?”
The guy blinked at him, then at the cash, then grumbled something about ‘rigged systems’ before snatching the twenty and walking off.
Boom. One problem solved.
The teller gave Maluck an approving nod and got to work scanning his tickets.
One hour Forty minutes left on the lens.
Maluck tapped his foot impatiently as the machine spat out receipt after receipt.
“Would you like a check or cash?” the teller finally asked.
Maluck didn’t even hesitate. “Cash.”
Because if there was one thing he’d learned in the last few days, it was that cash was king.
A few moments later, he walked out of the lottery center $9,180 richer—and with just enough time left on his Appraiser’s Lens to hit a pawn shop.
‘Alright,’ he thought, feeling pumped. ‘Time to go treasure hunting.**
***
When Maluck was about to go treasure hunting, he mulled over when he should sell his comic book. As he was debating it, his watch suddenly flashed a message.
GO NOW!
“Ah, crap,” he muttered.
This was going to eat up the rest of his Appraiser’s Lens time, but that comic book was worth a fortune. If the watch was telling him to go now, he wasn’t about to argue.
He hopped into his car and drove to the biggest comic book store in the city. The place was legendary, boasting several mint-condition #1 issues as their pride and joy.
As he walked inside, making his way toward the front counter, he overheard a heated conversation.
A guy wearing a red Flash T-shirt was leaning over the glass display case, looking thoroughly disappointed.
“What do you mean you don’t have XXX-Man #1?” the guy whined. “I thought you were supposed to be the best store in the city!”
The owner, a guy who looked like he had survived multiple convention battles and was dead inside, sighed. “Well, we do have Souped-Up Man #2 and Amazing Sex Fantasies #17. Those are pretty good.”
The Flash fanboy scoffed loudly. “Pshhh. I already own better-conditioned copies of those.”
The owner’s soul visibly left his body.
Maluck immediately understood why the watch told him to come now.
He strode up to the counter, holding the comic casually in one hand.
“Couldn’t help but overhear,” he said smoothly. “You’re looking for this?”
He held up XXX-Man #1.
The clerk’s jaw nearly unhinged. The fanboy’s eyes bulged out of his skull like a cartoon character.
“BAZINGA,” the guy gasped.
The guy practically levitated toward him.
“D-Do you mind if I take a look? Just to check the condition?”
“Not a problem,” Maluck said, placing it on the counter like it was Excalibur being returned to its rightful place.
The guy pulled out a pair of white gloves—seriously, actual gloves—and delicately started flipping through the pages like he was handling the Dead Sea Scrolls.
“Oh… my… goodness.”
His voice trembled.
“The condition… barely worn… at least a 9.4 rating…”
Maluck had no clue what a 9.4 meant, but judging by the guy’s near religious awe, it was probably a good thing.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“How much do you want for it?”
Maluck had done his research.
“Well, I saw a sale for this at $400,000 in July 2012.”
The fanboy winced. “That sounds about right, but that was an auction. And honestly, I think that price was inflated.”
“Alright,” Maluck said, tilting his head. “What’s your offer?”
The guy straightened up. “$100,000.”
Maluck didn’t even blink.
“No deal.”
Going from $400,000 to $100,000? That was like getting offered a Charles E. Cheese coupon for a vintage Rollerex.
The guy sighed dramatically. “Fine. $200,000.”
Maluck was about to shake on it when something caught his eye.
As the fanboy reached into his pocket for a checkbook, a few loose coins tumbled out and rolled onto the counter.
One of them glowed.
Maluck’s brain immediately went into overdrive.
‘Ohhhhh.’
This was big.
This was worth something.
This tiny, insignificant penny…
…was somehow worth a fortune.
And Maluck knew exactly how to play this.
*****
His Appraiser’s Lens, now running on fumes, screamed at him.
‘Jackpot!’
It wasn’t some ancient gold coin or ultra-rare mint error.
No.
It was a penny.
A completely normal-looking, boring penny.
The kind of penny that you see, think “ugh, not even worth bending over for,” and leave on the sidewalk.
Except, according to his Lens, this particular boring-ass penny was worth something extraordinary.
Maluck kept his cool.
The collector barely even noticed the coin as he picked up the others and stuffed them back in his pocket.
But Maluck casually reached out and picked up the glowing one.
“Huh,” he said, spinning it between his fingers. “Didn’t think people still carried pennies around.”
The guy glanced at it.
“Oh, that? Pfft, nah,” he said, waving dismissively. “Just some change from breakfast.”
Maluck had to play this carefully.
“You mind throwing this in with the deal?” he asked as casually as possible.
The guy laughed.
“This?” He flipped through his checkbook. “Sure, whatever. It’s a penny.”
The store owner’s eyes twitched as he watched $200,000 about to walk out of his store—without a single cent of it landing in his pocket.
He’d made plenty of cutthroat deals in his time—lowballing desperate collectors, flipping undervalued comics, and once convincing a guy that his near-mint Detective BatComics #27 was only worth a few hundred bucks because of a “minor crease.” Warp16 was the king of predatory fanboy capitalism.
And now, they’d come into his store, used his space, and dared to make a six-figure deal without giving him a cut? Not on his watch.
“Hey, hey, guys!” the owner called out, stepping around the counter, his arms spread wide in what he thought was a friendly gesture but which actually made him look like a used car salesman who just spotted a sucker. “You’re in my store. If you’re gonna make a deal here, how about cutting me in for, let’s say… 10%?”
Maluck blinked.
“Are you nuts?”
The comic book buyer, still clutching his new prize like a man who had just won the nerd lottery, gave the store owner a confused look.
“Seriously,” the store owner continued, doubling down. “You used my space to conduct a transaction. 10% is pretty fair.”
Maluck stared at him.
“You want twenty grand just because I happened to breathe the same air as your overpriced back issues?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Maluck turned to the buyer.
“You wanna take this deal outside?”
The collector nodded immediately.
“That sounds perfectly logical to me.”
And just like that, the two walked out, stepping into the bright sunlight with the owner fuming behind them.
The comic shop owner stood at the door, arms crossed, his eyes burning with resentment.
One day… one day he would get his cut.
Or at least make Maluck regret not paying him tribute.
For now, though?
All he could do was watch as $200,000 slipped through his fingers like sand in an hourglass of lost opportunity.
***
Outside, Maluck nearly burst into laughter. He could hardly believe it. The comic was gone—flipped for a ridiculous price—and in return, he had a $200,000 cheque and a mystery penny. Not exactly the kind of transaction he’d expected to make today, but hey, the universe had a funny way of working things out.
The Appraiser’s Lens shut off, its glow fading just as perfectly timed as the moment itself. Maluck took a deep breath, feeling like he had just won the lottery.
He looked down at the coin in his palm, inspecting it closely. It was small, old, and definitely didn’t look like it could buy him a yacht or anything. But there was something about it that felt… important.
“A penny saved… is who knows how much earned,” he muttered to himself, giving it a dramatic look.
He grinned, turning the coin over. ‘God, I love my system.’ It was like the universe had handed him the best cheat code ever, and every day it seemed to reward him with more of the unexpected—and a whole lot more cash than he knew what to do with.
***
Some people might have hesitated before accepting a $200,000 check from a total stranger.
Not Maluck.
Not because he was a trusting person.
Not because this guy looked like a wholesome, upstanding citizen.
And definitely not because Maluck didn’t know better.
No—he was confident because his Improvisation Skill: Scammer Slayer hadn’t gone off.
And that meant only one thing.
This guy was 100% legit.
***
Looking at the penny in his hand, Maluck couldn’t help but think, “Sucker.”
Okay, no—maybe that was too harsh. The guy didn’t know what he was doing. But still, he had just unknowingly traded a rare penny, something that could have been worth a small fortune, as an afterthought. Maluck wasn’t about to feel bad about that. Opportunities like this didn’t just walk up to you every day, and when they did, you grabbed them with both hands.
Honestly, he was a little surprised that Scammer Slayer hadn’t activated. He was practically expecting some dramatic system notification to pop up on his screen, something like:
[SYSTEM ALERT] Warning: This man is about to commit check fraud. Also, he still owes Blockbuzzers $27 in late fees. Punish him!
But nope. Nothing. No red flags. No flashing warning signs.
Just a completely legitimate, absurdly rich geek who really, REALLY wanted that comic book.
Maluck grinned to himself, shaking his head. Man, what a deal. He had to admire the guy’s dedication to his fandom. He probably didn’t even think twice about it. Just handed over a rare penny and a check for six-figures for a comic book without even batting an eye.
And here Maluck was, strolling away with both a fat cheque and a mysterious penny that could be worth who-knows-what. In the grand scheme of things, he was the one who’d just pulled off the best bargain.
But hey, that’s just business. ‘Opportunities like this don’t come every day, and I’m not the kind of guy who’s gonna let ‘em slip away,’ he thought to himself as he pocketed the penny.
As he left the comic book shop, he couldn’t stop smiling. All in a day’s work.
***
