Chapter 3: The First Client
The coded message arrived on a burner phone the System had instructed him to acquire. It was a simple string of numbers and letters, a location and a time, a secret handshake in the language of the criminal underworld. The address led him to a quiet, unassuming diner on the outskirts of Albuquerque. The kind of place with a plastic sign, peeling paint, and a steady stream of regulars who all seemed to know each other. The air inside smelled of sizzling bacon, fried onions, and old grease—a scent of worn-out comfort and routine.
He found Nacho Varga in a booth in the back, nursing a black coffee. Nacho's demeanor was calm, almost serene, a stark contrast to Saul's manic bluster. He wasn't loud or flashy; his menace was quiet, a coiled snake waiting to strike. His eyes, dark and unblinking, betrayed a deep-seated tension, the kind that came from living on a knife's edge. He didn't waste time with pleasantries. He just looked at Tim, a long, assessing stare that felt like a physical weight.
"Saul said you're good," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Said you're a real phantom."
"Saul has a big mouth," Tim thought. "And he's probably going to get me killed."
"He talks a lot," Tim replied, his own voice measured, a learned skill from a lifetime of dealing with criminals and witnesses. "What do you need?"
Nacho didn't flinch. He just took a slow sip of his coffee. "I need you to do a job. Not a clean-up. A different kind of job." He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. "I need information."
Tim's cop instincts screamed at him. This wasn't a low-level drug deal clean-up anymore. This was a direct line to the heart of the criminal world, and he was being invited in. The adrenaline coursed through him, a jolt of alarm and a flicker of the old, familiar excitement of an investigation.
"Failure: negative SP accrual?" Tim thought, his mind racing. "So not only do I not get paid, I lose points? What happens when I hit zero?" He didn't want to know. He just knew the System was a cruel, unforgiving master, a cosmic loan shark.
"What kind of information?" Tim asked, his eyes scanning the diner, noting the regular customers, the bored-looking waitress, the faint scent of cleaning fluid.
Nacho laid out his request with a weary, knowing tone, explaining the nuances of the cartel's world like a veteran general briefing a new recruit. "There's a crew, a small-time operation trying to move in on our territory. They're getting sloppy. I need to know who's backing them. Who their supplier is. Where they get their product."
Tim listened, his past life as a cop feeling both relevant and completely useless. He knew this world, he just never thought he'd be on the other side of the investigation. He's not a cop here. He's a tool. He was a piece of software in a human body, and the thought was unsettling.
Following Nacho's vague directions, Tim made his way to the rival crew's turf. It was a rundown motel on the edge of town, its neon sign flickering erratically in the midday heat, a sign for "MOTEL" with the 'L' burned out. He sat in his beat-up car, watching the comings and goings, his mind running through police procedure, criminal psychology, and the art of surveillance. He had a few hours before the [INTELLECT BOOST] timer ran out. He had to be smart, to be efficient.
He activated the ability for the first time, a cold, clinical sensation washing over him.
The world around him blurred, but not in a dizzying way. The System's interface overlaid his vision with data points, showing connections between people and places, weaknesses in their defenses, and vulnerabilities in their routines. He felt like a human computer, his mind racing through police procedure and criminal psychology, all fueled by the System's cold, logical data. He saw a man with a tattoo he recognized from a police database, a connection to a specific gang. A woman who worked at the front desk, and a mental tag appeared next to her face: [KNOWN ASSOCIATE: DRUG TRAFFICKING RING]. He saw a car with a specific license plate, and the System flagged it as [SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY: ROUTE FROM TEXAS]. It was a flood of information, more than he could ever process on his own. He was not just seeing a motel, he was seeing a web of criminality, a network of people and actions, a living, breathing thing. The System was a terrifying, powerful tool, a god-like vantage point on the world. He was no longer a cop, no longer a phantom. He was a human computer, and he was in over his head.
Love [ Fixer In Breaking Bad ,Dexter And The Blacklist ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [Fixer In Breaking Bad ,Dexter And The Blacklist ] with exclusive access to 35+ chapters on my Patreon, plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $5/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [Grimm, Teen Wolf ,blacklist,Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!