‘Yeah,’ thought Maluck.

  Those bikers had come by to apologize, but you know who hadn’t?

  Ron.

  The guy who started all of this—all because he didn’t want to pay Chloe the back wages she was owed.

  Maluck had been thinking about this, and the more he did, the more it was clear—Ron needed to learn a lesson.

  Those bikers didn’t just randomly decide to mug him. Ron and Bigfoot were the ones who put them up to it.

  So if Maluck had to deal with getting jumped in the street over some stupid grudge?

  Then Ron was going to deal with some very personal payback.

  And, of course, those thoughts had been helpfully nudged along by the System Task that had appeared.

  [System Task: Balance the Scales] Why should Ron get to sit comfortably in his store, surrounded by his stuff and loot, while sending people to mug you?

  That’s not fair at all, is it?

  You should be the one getting all that stuff.

  Go and extract as much as you can from him. The more you take, the bigger your System reward.

  Maluck grinned.

  Now that was a mission he could get behind.

  “Accept!”

  ***

  Maluck and Chloe pulled up to the pawn shop, the car barely limping into the parking lot. The engine wheezed like it was on its last breath, rattling so violently it felt like the whole thing might fall apart at any moment. A final, pitiful clunk echoed as they rolled to a stop in front of the dingy storefront.

  Through the grimy glass, they could already see Ron inside, hunched over the counter.

  And Ron?

  Looked nervous as hell.

  The moment Maluck stepped inside, Ron’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the counter like he was preparing for the worst.

  He had heard the news.

  The bikers weren’t going after Maluck anymore.

  Which meant Ron was now alone in this mess.

  And if Maluck was walking into his shop today?

  It sure as hell wasn’t to buy a second hand TV.

  Chloe leaned against a shelf, casually examining a tacky gold chain like she had all the time in the world.

  Maluck, meanwhile, strolled up to the counter, smiling like a man with zero worries and all the power.

  “Ron,” he said smoothly. “You look stressed.”

  Ron’s eyes darted around, like he was looking for an exit.

  “Look, man,” Ron started, holding up a hand defensively, “I don’t want any trouble.”

  Maluck tilted his head. “Oh? Trouble?” He grinned. “Funny. Because yesterday, I didn’t want any trouble either.”

  He leaned in slightly, voice dropping.

  “But you sent people to mug me anyway.”

  Ron swallowed hard. “I—I didn’t send them, I just—”

  Maluck held up a hand. “Nah, nah. I get it. You’re a businessman. You see an opportunity, you take it.”

  He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the Luck Siphon Stone.

  “See, Ron, I’ve been thinking.” Maluck’s tone was casual, almost friendly. “You’ve been sitting here in your nice little shop, surrounded by all this valuable stuff… while sending people to try and take what’s mine.”

  Ron tensed. “Look, I’ll—I’ll pay you, alright? I can—”

  “Oh, you’re gonna pay me.” Maluck nodded. “But first…”

  He pulled out the Luck Siphon Stone and casually pressed it against Ron’s arm.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Ron froze.

  A pulse of energy ran through Maluck’s fingers as the stone activated, and suddenly—

  The world shifted.

  Ron’s body sagged, like he had just been drained of something vital.

  And Maluck?

  Felt amazing.

  His Luck Points skyrocketed.

  And not by a little.

  By a lot.

  128 Luck Points Transferred.

  ‘What the hell?’ Maluck thought.

  Ron had been sitting on a mountain of luck.

  And now?

  That mountain had been transferred to him.

  Ron, now completely luckless, looked dazed.

  “W-what was that?” he muttered, shaking his head.

  Maluck grinned. “Nothing. Just correcting an imbalance.”

  Because that’s how the world worked.

  Sometimes good people had bad luck.

  And bad people had good luck.

  But not today.

  Today?

  This bad person had no luck left at all.

  ***

  Ron stared at Maluck, his jaw tight, fingers clenching the counter like it could somehow protect him.

  Maluck just grinned. “So. Let’s talk about compensation.”

  Ron exhaled sharply. “Look, man, I don’t have a lot of cash lying around.”

  Maluck tilted his head. “Oh? But you had enough to hire bikers to try and mug me?”

  Ron opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

  Chloe wandered along the shelves, running a finger over expensive watches, jewelry, electronics, and collectibles.

  “Damn,” she muttered, picking up a gold chain and inspecting it under the light. “You definitely have something to give, Ron. We’re not here to completely clean you out.”

  Maluck nodded. “Yeah, I’m not unreasonable. I just want… let’s call it a fee.”

  Ron stiffened. “A fee? For what?”

  Maluck shrugged. “For the attempted mugging, obviously. You sent people after me, so now I’m collecting damages.”

  Ron looked physically ill.

  “You—you can’t just walk in here and demand I hand over my stuff!”

  Maluck grinned wider. “That’s funny. Because yesterday, you had no problem sending people to take my stuff.”

  Ron had no comeback.

  Because there wasn’t one.

  Maluck tapped the counter, acting like he was thinking it over. “Alright, let’s make this easy. Give me—” he pointed at the register, “—that cash. And…” he looked around, eyes drifting to the display cases filled with valuables.

  Then?

  He glanced outside.

  And his grin widened.

  There it was, sitting right in front of the shop.

  Ron’s pride and joy.

  Ron’s car was a Dominion Charger R/T Hellburst, complete with an absurdly loud supercharged V8, a wide, aggressive stance, and a paint job so glossy you could check your teeth in it.

  It was the kind of car that roared even at idle, like it was personally offended by silence. The kind of car that announced itself two blocks away, making sure everyone knew Ron had arrived, whether they cared or not.

  Deep midnight blue with black racing stripes, it looked every bit the overcompensating muscle car—the type a guy like Ron would own just to make himself feel taller.

  The wheels? Black 20-inch alloys with red calipers, just flashy enough to scream “look at me” but not quite enough to make it classy.

  And beside it?

  Maluck’s beat-up, barely-holding-together excuse for a vehicle.

  That car had been fine when he was a nobody fraught with bad luck, but now?

  It was seriously cramping his System Champion style.

  At the Coin Expo parking lot, it had sputtered and groaned so badly that everyone within earshot had turned to see if it was about to explode. At that fancy restaurant, the valet had physically hesitated before handing him a ticket, clearly wondering if the car would even start when he got back.

  Then there was that damn mall trip, where the engine had made a low, rattling sound, like it was whispering its last words before death. And during the warehouse stakeout, Maluck had realized something even worse—driving the car was one thing, but sitting in it for seven hours in complete silence?

  That was actual suffering.

  No matter where he went, that car made sure Maluck always looked like a loser barely holding it together. It didn’t matter if he was pulling up to a high-end restaurant, a business meeting, or just a damn parking lot—he always looked like the guy who shouldn’t be there. Like someone who had talked his way in but wouldn’t be staying long. It didn’t just make him seem broke; it made him look like he had no business succeeding at anything. And if it ever decided to die mid-drive?

  Well, then he’d just look like a loser stranded on the side of the road.

  And now?

  He had a chance to replace it.

  Maluck turned back to Ron, still grinning.

  “You know what?” he said, tapping the counter. “Forget the cash. I’ll take the car instead.”

  Ron’s face drained of color.

  Chloe perked up instantly. “Ooooh, I like this plan.”

  Ron shook his head rapidly. “No. No way. You can’t just—”

  Maluck raised an eyebrow. “I can’t?”

  Ron clenched his jaw. “That car’s worth way more than—”

  Maluck held up a hand.

  “Let’s not get stuck on numbers,” he said smoothly. “I mean, really, what’s worth more?”

  He gestured around the store.

  “All of this? Your business? Your inventory? Your ability to operate without someone constantly breathing down your neck?”

  Ron swallowed hard.

  Maluck leaned in, voice lowering just slightly.

  “…Or that car?”

  Ron hesitated.

  Because he knew.

  He knew Maluck wasn’t asking.

  He knew Maluck wasn’t bluffing.

  And most of all?

  He knew that if he said no—if he tried to fight this—Maluck would just take more.

  A long, tense silence stretched between them.

  Then, with a bitter expression, Ron reached into his pocket, pulled out the keys, and slapped them onto the counter.

  “There,” he growled through clenched teeth. “Take it.”

  Maluck smirked, picking up the keys and tossing them once in his hand.

  Then he paused.

  Shook his head.

  “Oh, no,” Maluck said smoothly. “We’re doing this properly.”

  Ron froze. “What?”

  Maluck leaned on the counter. “You can’t just toss me the keys and call it a day. We have to legally transfer ownership. Wouldn’t want any misunderstandings, now would we?”

  Chloe smirked from across the shop. “Yeah, Ron. Imagine if Maluck got pulled over and the cops thought he stole your car.”

  Maluck grinned. “That would be tragic.”

  Ron looked like he wanted to punch something. Instead, he jerked open a drawer, pulled out the vehicle registration and ownership documents, and slapped them onto the counter.

  “Fine,” he growled. “We’ll do this right.”

  Maluck picked up the pen, flipping through the paperwork like he was signing for an AmazonianExpress delivery.

  Ron, still fuming, grabbed the bill of sale form and scrawled down the price.

  “One dollar.”

  Chloe whistled. “Wow. That’s almost generous.”

  Ron shoved the papers at him. “Sign it and get out.”

  Maluck signed with a flourish, then picked up the keys, tossing them once in his hand.

  “Oh, and here’s your dollar,” he said, flipping a loonie (Canadian dollar coin) at Ron.

  Ron gritted his teeth, saying nothing.

  “See! You even made a sale, Ron!” Chloe grinned.