Chapter 13: New Players
Badger had a laugh that could curdle milk. Skinny Pete had a vocabulary that made each word work for its pay. Jesse brought them to the unit with pride and a chest-forward swagger that was half performance, half plea for Adam's approval.
"Yo, these are my boys," Jesse said, the phrase both introduction and defense. "We can, like, move weight, man."
Badger stuck out a hand with the desperation of a man who wants to be liked by someone who holds the ladder. "Dude, you're Adam," he said, as if that name should come with theme music. "Heard you're like a…like a manager."
"Like a system," Skinny Pete offered, eyes on Adam's shoes the way some men judge worth by leather.
"I'm a person," Adam said. "And this is a business. Sit."
They sat, immediately taking up too much couch. Adam stood because sitting would ask him to share something he had not offered. He outlined rules with a cadence he had learned from math lectures and street sermons: "Cash is king. Phones are stupid. Words can be called back in court; silence can't. You don't take product you haven't bought. You don't talk about names. You don't make friends on runs. You don't get high on workdays. You don't improvise."
Badger grinned like a kid hearing pirate code. "What about—"
"No whatevers," Adam said. "This isn't improv."
Jesse nodded with emphatic sincerity, then smacked Badger's shoulder when he looked like he might ask about wearing sunglasses at night. "Yo, shut up."
Adam moved them through mock meets like a coach teaching footwork. Where to stand. How to put down a bag without bending like a supplicant. How to count fast without seeming to doubt. How to smile without inviting. They failed in colorful ways and then less colorful. By the end, they were adequate. Adequate would do if the system around them was excellent.
"We'll test you small," Adam said. "No cowboy moves. If you deviate, you're out."
"Out like…fired?" Badger asked, offended by the concept.
"Out like I won't answer your calls," Adam said, more chilling than threats.
They ran the first small lot that afternoon under his supervision. It went well enough that Badger's grin turned into reverence. Skinny Pete said, "Respect," in a way that meant it.
Meanwhile, Hank plotted lines on maps and told stories to colleagues with a shine in his eye that worried Adam. He clipped articles. He referenced "Cap'n Cook" with relish. He stalked low-level sellers and made them talk too long. Adam felt the perimeter of Hank's attention like radiation. He rerouted Jesse and the new guys, changed who they met and where by the hour, and passed places with cameras when he could.
He also sold 10 kg.
Sell 10kg meth.
[Asset recognized: drugs (methamphetamine), 10 kg.]
[Confirm sale for $500,000?] Y/N
Y.
[Sale confirmed. Double-profit applied.]
[Proceeds: $1,000,000 credited.]
Balance: $2,900,000
Strength: 4x
He stood in the quiet of an empty storage corridor and looked at the upgrade menu with a steadiness that felt like devotion.
Upgrade strength 8x.
[Confirm purchase: Strength 8x for $4,000,000?] Y/N
Y.
[Purchase confirmed.]
[Strength upgraded: 8x. Durability and healing further increased.]
[Balance updated: -$2,100,000.]
The world didn't tilt; it clarified. Movements that used to require planning now asked only for intention. He tested nothing showy—lifted nothing ridiculous, broke nothing for fun. He picked up a cooler with one hand, felt its weight as a suggestion rather than a demand, and set it down with a gentleness that would not leave bruises on the floor.
Jesse saw something in the way Adam moved through the doorway. "You ever, like, tell me how you do that?"
"No," Adam said. His smile was apology and boundary.
Badger turned on his car radio after the run and jerked like he'd been shocked. Polka blasted from the speakers—accordion jaunty, trumpet obnoxious. "What the—" He smacked the dash; it kept oompah-ing. "This is whack!"
Skinny Pete, who had seen worse things than polka, laughed until tears made tracks on his face. Jesse doubled over. Adam permitted himself a thin-lipped grin. "New vibe," he said. "Helps you keep time."
Badger flushed, caught, then laughed too, the awkward first ride of a joke that would become a story he'd tell later like he'd enjoyed it all along.
That night, Adam unrolled a city map on his motel bed and drew lines with a pencil that had chewed marks on it from someone else's teeth. He marked new drop points, rotated the entire system like a Rubik's cube until colors aligned. He thought about Hank's love of Mexico as a theory and assigned him a future decoy. He thought about Skyler's job—how the hours away from home were telling—and filed that under "monitor."
The ledger hovered.
Balance: -$2,100,000
Strength: 8x
Stamina: 1x
Durability: high
He lay back, hands behind his head, and let himself enjoy the hum of an engine running exactly at the speed he set.
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