The scent of engine oil and hot metal clung to the air. Jason wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his grease-stained hand, still feeling the adrenaline thrumming through his veins. The work had gone smoother than he expected—almost frighteningly smooth. The system's guiding light, those phantom instructions that only he could see, had steered his hands with mechanical precision.
Now, one by one, the machines in the garage had roared to life under his touch. Each purr of an engine, each smooth hum of a revived vehicle drew the attention of every mechanic in the shop. They stood frozen for a moment, slack-jawed and whispering among themselves.
"Jason… what the hell just happened back there?" one of the guys muttered, eyes darting from the polished car to Jason's steady hands.
Jason tried to laugh it off, tossing a rag onto the nearest workbench. "Just… did what needed to be done."
But his heart hammered in his chest. He knew what had happened—it wasn't just him. The system's strange interface had appeared, showing diagrams, step-by-step instructions, even tightening sequences like some surreal video game tutorial. He followed each one, and now… now every single car he touched looked brand new.
Sam, his best friend, slapped him on the shoulder. "Bro… don't act like nothing just happened. You've been sleeping through jobs for weeks, wasting your money on smokes and cheap beer—and now you're fixing cars like some kind of… super-engineer? Nah, man. I need answers."
Jason forced a small grin. "Guess I just… figured some things out."
Before Sam could press further, the shop door slammed open. A sharp, clipped voice pierced through the hum of the workshop.
"Where is it? Where is my car?!"
Heads turned immediately. A woman stormed in, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. She looked to be in her late twenties, sharp-eyed, with dark hair tied into a neat ponytail. The tailored suit she wore clashed against the oil-stained garage, but her fury carried her presence like a blade.
Sam winced, muttering under his breath, "Oh, hell. It's her."
Jason frowned. "You know her?"
"Of course I do," Sam whispered. "That's Lydia Voss. She's been on our case for weeks. Rich, impatient, doesn't like waiting on anyone. And her car's been sitting here longer than it should've."
Jason turned to see Lydia striding straight toward them, her eyes blazing. "I've been waiting two weeks for a call! Two. Weeks. Do you have any idea how important my schedule is? If you can't fix the damn thing, just say so and give it back."
Sam stepped in quickly, raising both hands. "Miss Voss, please, calm down. It's not like that. We—"
"Don't you dare tell me to calm down," she snapped, jabbing a finger at him. "You people took my money, gave me promises, and I've heard nothing. Not one phone call, not one update. I should sue you for negligence."
The other workers in the garage shifted uncomfortably. No one dared to speak.
Jason's eyes, however, narrowed slightly. There was something… different about the way she carried herself. Her anger wasn't just about the car—it was about control, about being disrespected. He could see it in the tightness of her jaw, the way her chest rose and fell as if she was barely holding her composure.
Before he realized what he was doing, Jason stepped forward.
Sam hissed. "What are you doing, bro? Stay out of—"
"Her car's ready." Jason's voice cut through the noise, steady and firm.
The entire garage stilled. Lydia's head snapped toward him. "What did you say?"
Jason walked past her without faltering, gesturing toward the polished sedan parked neatly in the corner. Its hood gleamed under the workshop lights, its engine humming like a beast reborn.
Sam hurried after him, whispering harshly, "Jason, are you sure—"
But Jason didn't answer. He stopped by the car, grabbed a set of keys, and pressed the fob. The headlights flicked alive, casting sharp beams across the workshop. Lydia's eyes widened despite herself.
"Go on," Jason said, his tone casual but layered with quiet confidence. "See for yourself."
For a long, tense moment, Lydia hesitated. She clearly wanted to argue, to unleash her anger, but curiosity tugged harder. Slowly, she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the concrete as she approached her car.
She opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and turned the ignition.
The sound that followed silenced the entire shop.
The engine purred—smooth, powerful, almost musical. Every mechanic in the room leaned forward unconsciously, listening to the precision in the machine's rhythm. It wasn't just fixed—it was perfect.
Lydia blinked rapidly, her anger dissolving into confusion, then dawning disbelief. She revved the engine once, twice, and each time it roared back like a predator stretching its limbs.
When she finally turned off the car, she stepped out slowly, her eyes searching until they landed on Jason.
"You," she said quietly. "You did this?"
Jason didn't flinch under her gaze. He gave a short nod. "Yeah. That's my work."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them. Then, to everyone's shock, Lydia's expression softened. Her lips parted as though she wanted to argue again, but instead… a small, reluctant smile tugged at her face.
"It's… incredible," she admitted. "Better than it's ever been. I don't know how you—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "No, it doesn't matter. What matters is… this car feels alive again."
She stepped closer, her eyes locked onto his. "What's your name?"
Jason met her gaze evenly, his voice low and firm. "Jason."
Something about the way he said it—the steadiness, the quiet confidence, the manly tone that resonated—made her heart skip. She swallowed, then nodded slowly. "Well, Jason… you've impressed me."
Her hand dipped into her bag, and she pulled out a leather wallet. With a graceful motion, she handed him a thick stack of bills. "This is more than the repair cost. Consider the rest… appreciation."
The garage erupted in murmurs. Sam's jaw dropped.
Jason hesitated for only a moment before taking the money. "Thanks."
As Lydia turned to leave, she paused at the door and looked back at him. Her eyes lingered on his face, her voice softer this time. "I'll remember your name." Then she was gone.
The silence that followed broke instantly into chaos.
"Broooo!" one of the workers shouted, running over and clapping Jason on the back. "That was insane!"
"You had her eating out of your hand!" another laughed.
Sam shoved him playfully. "Jason, my guy—you were smooth! Since when are you Mr. Confident?"
Jason chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… did my job."
The others didn't buy it, but they didn't push. One by one, they drifted back to their own tasks, still buzzing with excitement and admiration.
When the noise died down, Sam leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Alright, man. You have to tell me. What's going on with you? You've been different since yesterday. More focused. Stronger. It's like… like you've been reborn or something."
Jason opened his mouth, but the words stuck. How could he explain? That a system, something beyond reason, was whispering in his ear? That it had offered him a deal he barely understood?
Instead, he forced a half-smile. "Maybe I finally decided to stop wasting time."
Sam studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "If that's the case… I'm proud of you, bro. Just don't forget me when you're rich and famous."
Jason laughed, though inside his mind, the system's screen flickered to life once more.
[Task Complete.]
[Reward: Beginner's Mechanic Aptitude Boost +20.]
Jason stiffened slightly, but no one else noticed.
The Oblivion Protocol was far from finished with him.
And Jason… was only beginning to realize what that meant.
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