The Aston Martin sat in the drive like a predator at rest, gleaming under the Manchester sun.
Its polished chrome reflected against the rows of tired council houses, making the entire street look poorer by comparison.
Curtains twitched. Neighbours whispered from their windows.
The car didn't belong here, not in this neighbourhood, not outside the Vale family's house. Yet here it was, parked like a statement carved in steel.
Elaine stepped outside, towel in her hands from drying dishes. She froze at the sight.
Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again before sound finally came.
"Cass… whose car is that?"
"Ours," Cass said calmly, slipping the keys from his pocket.
Elaine shook her head, disbelief all over her face. "Ours? Cass, don't joke—this car costs more than… more than our house."
Thomas stepped outside then, a mug of tea still in his hand, ready to complain about the noise. His voice died the moment his eyes landed on the gleaming machine.
He stared as if it were a ghost. Slowly, he walked around it, one hand brushing the bonnet as if checking it was real.
"Bloody hell, son. This isn't just a car. This is Bond's car. What is this?"
"Aston Martin DB7 Vantage," Cass replied smoothly. "And yes. Ours. Not stolen. Not borrowed. Ours."
Thomas looked up sharply, suspicion in his eyes. "You're not in trouble, are you? Tell me you didn't—"
Cass chuckled. "No trouble. No stealing. Just business."
Elaine pressed a hand to her chest. "Cass, people like us don't just buy cars like this."
Cass stepped closer, his voice firm but soft. "People like us didn't. But we're not the same anymore." He pressed the keys into his father's palm. "Try it."
Thomas recoiled. "What? No. I'll scratch it just looking at it."
Cass turned toward his mother, holding open the passenger door. "Then Mum will."
Elaine's hands trembled. "Cass… I can't possibly—"
"You can," Cass said firmly. His eyes locked on hers, filled with a quiet conviction that left no room for argument. "From now on, you deserve nothing less."
She hesitated only a moment before sliding into the seat. The leather swallowed her, smooth and warm. She gasped softly.
"It smells… new."
Thomas muttered, still protesting, but Cass guided him around to the driver's side until he finally sat down behind the wheel, grumbling.
Cass slipped into the driver's seat, twisted the key, and the engine roared to life. The sound tore through the neighbourhood like thunder. Curtains flew open. Neighbours leaned out of windows to gape.
Elaine clutched her hands together, tears shining in her eyes. Thomas hid his grin poorly as the vibration hummed through the car. Cass steered them out of the street, every head turning as the Aston Martin prowled past.
He kept his expression calm, but inside his thoughts were cold.
'Let them all see. Let them choke on it. This family isn't dirt anymore.'
The next morning, Cass didn't bother with a taxi. He adjusted his tie in the reflection of the window before sliding into the Aston Martin.
The car purred alive under his touch. He guided it through the streets with deliberate calm, every turn smooth, every growl of the engine deliberate.
When he pulled into the university car park, time seemed to stop. Conversations faltered. Students froze mid-step. Heads turned in unison, eyes locked on the low, predatory shape of the DB7. Phones came out instantly, flashes blinking as the car rolled through.
"Is that—"
"No way."
"Aston Martin? Here?"
The DB7 glided across the lot like a beast among mongrels. Cass slowed deliberately, letting them all watch, letting the whispers spread like fire.
He parked near the centre, the car gleaming under the pale light.
Silence followed.
He stepped out, suit pressed and perfect, every detail chosen with care.
The door closed with a solid click.
He pressed the fob, locking the car. The sharp sound echoed. Students gawked openly.
Some muttered, some gasped, some simply stared.
Trent Beaumont stood not far away, holding court with his usual hangers-on. His loud laughter died the moment the DB7 pulled up. His face twisted as Cass emerged, smooth and calm, his movements deliberate.
Cass adjusted his cufflinks with a faint smile. "Morning." His tone was quiet, but it carried.
Trent barked a laugh, too loud, too forced. "What, you nick that from a showroom?"
The laughter that usually followed him didn't come.
The car itself silenced them.
One of Trent's own friends whispered too loudly, "That's a DB7. Brand new." The disbelief in his voice cut Trent deeper than any insult.
Cass's smile widened faintly. "Not stolen. Bought." He let the word hang in the air like a challenge. "It's comfortable."
[Event Triggered: First Arrival in Style → Reward: +£5,000. Reputation Buff +5. Charisma +1 temporary]
The whispers spread like wildfire. Girls stared openly, some with awe, some with calculation. Boys shifted in place, suddenly aware of the cheapness of their jackets and the rust on their cars.
Cass walked past Trent slowly, every step deliberate. His shoes clicked against the pavement, each sound drawing more eyes. He didn't look back, didn't need to. The silence behind him was thick enough.
'Last time, I was invisible. Forgettable. This time, I'll make every step echo. They'll remember me, whether they love me or hate me.'
By the time he reached the lecture hall, half the campus buzzed with his name. Cassian Vale. The man in the suit. The man with the Aston Martin. The man who carried himself like he already owned the place.
He sat calmly in the front row again, unbothered by the stares and whispers. He smoothed his tie, the faintest smile touching his lips.
[Main Quest Progress: 3%]
'Step by step. Let them all watch. This is only the beginning.'