Jason stood with his arms crossed, staring at the half-disassembled speedboat. The sun filtered in through the workshop's dusty windows, turning every floating particle into glitter. The place smelled of oil, paint, and metal—home to men who had long ago grown used to grease under their nails and sweat dripping down their foreheads.
The contractor had just gotten a call and hurried out, muttering that he'd be back soon. That left Jason standing there, surrounded by his coworkers. One of them, Musa, returned from the market, wiping his forehead as he carried two heavy bags filled with spare parts and supplies.
"Got everything," Musa said, dropping the bags with a grunt. "Even bargained with that stubborn shopkeeper. You owe me a drink later, Jason."
Jason forced a smile, but his chest tightened when he looked around. Every single pair of eyes was now on him. Not Sam, not the senior mechanics—but him.
"Well, Jason?" one of them asked, rubbing his hands together, eager to get started.
"Yeah, boss," another chimed in with a grin. "Tell us what to do."
Jason froze. Boss. They had never called him that before. For a moment, he was speechless, his mind blank. He had never been looked up to like this, never been the one to decide who did what. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
System, he thought nervously. What do I even say?
The familiar blue panel flickered before his eyes.
> [System Analysis: Activated.]
Scanning workshop crew…
Worker 1: Musa – Strong arms, hates detail, loves heavy lifting. Assign: movement & engine placement.
Worker 2: Chike – Sharp eyes, loves precision, hates rushing. Assign: wiring & connections.
Worker 3: Ravan– Loves painting, hates grease. Assign: sanding & spraying.
Worker 4: Carly– Quick learner, prefers teamwork. Assign: assisting Jason with core engine.
Worker 5: Sam – Balanced knowledge, but prefers supervision. Assign: oversight and quality check.
Jason's lips curved slowly. The nervousness faded, replaced by a strange confidence.
"Alright," he said at last, his voice firm. "Here's how we'll do it."
The men leaned closer. Jason pointed at Musa. "You handle the heavy stuff. Get the engine lifted, moved, and placed where I tell you. Don't bother with the fine parts—you'll only mess it up."
Musa laughed, clapping his huge hands together. "Finally, somebody who understands me. Heavy work? I'm your guy."
Jason turned to Chike. "You're precise. Wiring, connections, delicate parts—that's your area. Don't rush it. Take your time."
Chike raised a brow, smirking. "About time someone realized I'm more than just a screwdriver holder."
"Ravan" Jason continued, pointing at the younger man with paint-stained nails. "I know you don't like grease. You'll handle sanding and spraying. Make it look like new."
Ravan grinned, twirling the rag in his hand. "Yes, sir. Finally, no one's forcing me to touch dirty carburetors."
Jason shifted his gaze to Carly. "You'll be with me. I'll need your hands when we deal with the core engine. Pay attention and follow my lead."
"Yes, boss," Carly said quickly, clearly proud to be chosen as Jason's right-hand man.
Finally, Jason looked at Sam, who stood with his arms crossed, watching. "You'll check everything. Every bolt, every line, every piece. Nothing leaves this place without your say."
Sam smirked knowingly. "So, I'm the teacher watching over his favorite student. Fine by me."
The workshop erupted with laughter and clapping. For once, Jason wasn't the target of jokes about drinking or smoking. He wasn't the quiet guy sitting at the back. He was the center, the leader.
"Alright!" Jason clapped his hands. "Let's get to work!"
---
The Work Begins
The sound of tools echoed through the workshop. Musa grunted as he and two others struggled to move the engine block. Chike crouched with his tongue between his teeth, carefully aligning wires and tightening screws with surgical precision. Olamide hummed while sanding the boat's sides, leaving behind smooth surfaces ready for paint. Uche stood by Jason, handing him tools, wiping sweat from his brow, and asking questions as Jason carefully tuned the boat's core engine.
At one point, Musa groaned, "This thing is heavier than my mother-in-law!"
Everyone burst out laughing. Jason shook his head, but the system's voice whispered in his mind:
> [Confidence Level of Crew: Increasing.]
[Morale Boost: +30%]
As hours passed, conversations drifted. They joked about politics, the rising task, and even debated football teams.
"I'm telling you," Carly said while soldering wires, "if Arsenal doesn't win this season, I'm done watching football."
"You've been saying that for ten years," Musa shot back, laughing so hard he nearly dropped a spanner.
Even Jason joined in the laughter. For once, he wasn't the outsider.
---
The Final Touch
The sun was already leaning toward evening when the boat finally looked whole again. Every man wiped sweat from his brow, hands aching but spirits high. Jason stood back, wiping grease from his hands with a rag.
"Moment of truth," Sam said, crossing his arms.
Jason gave a nod. Carly leaned forward and twisted the ignition. For a second, silence. Everyone held their breath.
Then—
VROOOOM!
The engine roared to life, blades spinning smooth and powerful, echoing through the entire workshop. The men erupted in cheers, some giving high-fives, others shouting as if they had just won a match.
"We did it!" Musa bellowed, pumping his fists.
"Not we," Carly corrected with a grin. "He did it," he said, pointing at Jason.
Jason felt warmth in his chest. For the first time, he wasn't just a mechanic—he was their leader.
---
The Contractor Returns
Just then, the contractor walked in, phone in hand. He froze when he saw the boat alive and gleaming. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, walking over. "You people actually pulled it off."
Jason wiped his hands. "It wasn't easy, but she's good to go."
The contractor nodded, impressed. "Alright, let's talk price."
Jason listed everything—every spare part, every hour of labor, every detail. When the contractor finally heard the total, his eyebrows shot up.
"That much?" he asked.
Jason didn't flinch. "That's the price. And it's fair. You're not just paying for materials—you're paying for the best hands in this city."
The workshop fell silent, waiting. Finally, the contractor chuckled. "Fair enough. You've got guts, kid. I'll pay it."
He handed over the money—enough that each mechanic received a share larger than anything they had seen in years. The men cheered again, thanking Jason, clapping his back.
"Man, if boats keep coming in like this, I'll retire early!" Carly laughed.
"Forget boats," Musa said. "Next time, let them bring an airplane. Jason will fix it!"
Everyone burst out laughing again. Jason only shook his head, but deep down, he felt proud.
---
Closing Time
As the workshop closed, the men drifted away, still chatting about their unexpected victory. Jason and Sam walked together, helmets in hand as they headed toward their bikes.
"You know," Sam said, glancing at Jason with a grin, "today you weren't just another mechanic. You were the one holding us all together. You feel it, right?"
Jason nodded quietly. "Yeah. I felt it."
Sam slapped his shoulder. "Good. Get used to it. Because after today, they'll always be looking at you."
Jason didn't reply. He just smiled faintly as they rode off into the evening, the system's quiet voice echoing in his head:
> [Leadership Skill: Awakened.]
[Path of the Mechanic: Expanding.]
And Jason knew—this was just the beginning.
---