Mark stood on the sidewalk outside "Luigi's Pizza," a local institution that usually smelled of garlic butter, oregano, and baking dough.
Today, however, the air around the restaurant was thick with a different scent. It was a heavy, cloying stench that tasted like copper and rot on the back of the tongue. It was the smell of a sewer that had given up.
Mark checked his reflection in the shop window. He had stopped at a discount hardware store on the way over, spending fifty dollars of his precious capital on a pair of grey coveralls, thick rubber gloves, and heavy work boots. He looked like a janitor.
He checked the System panel floating in his periphery.
[Mission: The Filthiest Job]
[Target: Grease Trap (Overflowing)]
[Difficulty: C (Biohazard)]
[Reward: $5,000.00]
"Five grand to play in the mud," Mark whispered, adjusting his gloves. "Let's do this."
He pushed the door open.
The restaurant was empty. The chairs were upturned on the tables. Behind the counter, a large man with a thick mustache and a sweat-stained white apron was shouting into a cordless phone, his face a dangerous shade of purple.
"I don't care if it is Sunday!" Luigi roared, waving his free hand in the air. "The kitchen is flooding! I'm losing the lunch rush! What do you mean 'emergency rates'? I'm already paying you a fortune to—hello? Hello!"
Luigi slammed the phone down onto the laminate counter so hard the plastic casing cracked. He put his head in his hands, muttering a stream of furious Italian.
"Disastro," Luigi groaned. "Total disaster."
Mark walked up to the counter, his heavy boots squeaking on the linoleum. "Rough day?"
Luigi looked up, his eyes bloodshot. He scanned Mark's outfit—the cheap, stiff coveralls and the yellow rubber gloves. "We're closed. Plumbing issue. Unless you're a magician who can make sewage disappear, get out."
"I'm not a magician," Mark said, leaning his elbows on the counter. "But I am looking for work. I heard you have a blockage."
Luigi snorted, a harsh, dismissive sound. "You? You look like a college kid playing dress-up. I need a licensed plumber with a pump truck, not a freelancer with a bucket."
"The plumbers aren't coming, Luigi," Mark said calmly. "I heard you on the phone. They want triple rates because it's the weekend. I'm here right now. And I'm cheap."
Luigi hesitated. Desperation warred with skepticism in his eyes. He looked at the kitchen door, where a thin trickle of grey water was seeping out onto the dining room floor.
"It's the grease trap," Luigi admitted, his voice defeated. "My dishwasher quit an hour ago when it started backing up. It's... it's bad, kid. It's sludge. Ancient grease. You go in there, you're gonna wish you were born without a nose."
"I have a strong stomach," Mark lied. His stomach turned just thinking about it. "Just give me a shovel, a bucket, and fifty bucks cash when I'm done."
Luigi looked at him like he was insane. "Fifty bucks? The plumbers quoted me six hundred just for the service call."
"I'm feeling generous," Mark smiled. "I need practice."
Luigi threw his hands up. "Fine! Fine! Go! If you vomit in my kitchen, you clean that up too!"
Ten minutes later, Mark was standing in the back alley behind the kitchen. The access hatch to the industrial grease trap lay open like a wound in the concrete.
The smell was a physical wall. It was a mixture of rancid oil, rotting meat, and fermented dairy that had been festering in the dark for months. It made Mark's eyes water instantly.
[System Warning: Bio-Hazard Detected.]
[Status Effect: Nausea (Level 1)]
[Tip: Breathing through your mouth is recommended.]
"Thanks for the advice," Mark muttered, pulling his collar up over his nose.
He grabbed the heavy industrial ladle Luigi had given him—a tool that looked more like a weapon—and looked down into the grey abyss.
"Five thousand dollars," he repeated like a mantra. "Five thousand dollars."
He plunged the ladle into the muck.
Squelch.
The sound was wet and heavy. He pulled up a scoop of congealed grey fat and dumped it into the disposal drum Luigi had rolled out.
Ding!
A crisp sound cut through the gross atmosphere.
[Filth Removed: 1%]
[Progress Reward: $50.00]
Mark froze. He blinked.
"Wait," he said. "I get paid per scoop?"
He had assumed the $5,000 was a lump sum at the end. But the System, true to its gamified nature, was giving him immediate feedback.
He scooped again. Faster.
Squelch. [Filth Removed: 2% - Earnings: $50.00]
Squelch. [Filth Removed: 3% - Earnings: $50.00]
The disgust vanished. The nausea faded, replaced by a rush of dopamine. To anyone walking down the alley, Mark looked like a desperate laborer doing the worst job on earth. But Mark didn't see sludge. He saw stacks of fifty-dollar bills floating in a soup.
He worked with a rhythmic intensity. His new stats were doing their job. With Strength 10 and Vitality 10, he wasn't getting winded. His muscles moved with a fluid efficiency he had never possessed before.
Scoop. Dump. Ding. Scoop. Dump. Ding.
"Hey! You!"
Mark paused, wiping a smear of grey slime from his forehead with his forearm.
Standing at the mouth of the alley, blocking the sunlight, were three people. A guy and two girls. They looked to be about Mark's age, maybe younger. The guy was wearing a varsity jacket from the local university and holding a slice of pizza from a rival shop down the street.
"Are you the valet?" the varsity guy asked, snickering. "We parked the Audi out front, but this smell is killing the vibe, man."
One of the girls wrinkled her nose, covering it with a manicured hand. "Ew, Brad. Don't talk to him. Look at that stuff. He's literally playing in poop."
Mark recognized the jacket. He recognized the tone. Rich kids. Tourists in the real world.
"No valet," Mark said, his voice flat. He plunged the ladle back into the muck. "Just working."
"Working?" Brad laughed. He took a bite of his pizza, chewing obnoxiously loud. "Bro, that's not work. That's punishment. What did you do? Rob a bank and get community service?"
The girls giggled.
Mark felt a flicker of annoyance. He gripped the handle of the ladle tighter. He wanted to say something sharp. He wanted to tell them he made more in the last ten minutes than they would make all summer at their internships.
But before he could speak, the System panel flashed red.
[Social Status Degradation Detected.]
[Condition Met: 'Humiliation by Elites']
[Passive Skill Triggered: The Underdog's Revenge]
[Effect: Earnings Multiplier x2.0 for duration of insult.]
Mark's eyes widened.
Multiplier?
He looked at the readout.
[Next Scoop Value: $100.00]
Mark looked up at Brad. Suddenly, the guy didn't look annoying anymore. He looked like a walking bonus power-up.
"It's honest work," Mark said, deliberately acting meek. He kept scooping, but he made sure to look pathetic. "I... I really need the money."
Squelch. [+$100.00]
"Oh, wow," the second girl said, sounding genuinely grossed out. "That is so sad. Brad, let's go. I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Hold on," Brad grinned, enjoying the audience. He pulled a five-dollar bill out of his pocket. "Hey, sewer man. If you do a little dance with that shovel, I'll give you a tip."
Mark didn't dance. But he did scoop faster.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
[+$100... +$100... +$100]
"Sorry," Mark said, keeping his head down to hide the grin splitting his face. "Can't stop. Deadline."
"Loser," Brad muttered, tossing the five-dollar bill into the sludge bucket. "Buy some soap."
They turned and walked away, their laughter echoing off the brick walls of the alley.
Mark watched them go. He waited until they were out of earshot.
"Thanks, Brad," Mark whispered. "You just bought me a new laptop."
[Insult Duration Ended.]
[Multiplier Deactivated.]
Mark looked back at the grease trap. It was nearly empty. He felt energized. He attacked the remaining sludge with the ferocity of a man possessed.
Forty minutes later.
The trap was scraped clean. The metal walls shone dully in the dim light. Mark was covered in specks of grey gunk, and he smelled like a dead whale, but the job was done.
He peeled off the rubber gloves and walked back into the kitchen.
Luigi was waiting, holding a towel over his nose. He peeked through his fingers as Mark entered.
"You done?" Luigi asked, his voice muffled.
"Spotless," Mark said. He walked to the deep industrial sink and started scrubbing his arms with heavy-duty orange soap.
Luigi went out back to check. A moment later, he came storming back in, looking stunned.
"I've never seen it that clean," Luigi said, shaking his head. "Seriously, kid. Did you lick the walls? It looks brand new."
"Professional pride," Mark said, drying his hands on a paper towel.
Luigi nodded slowly. He walked to the register and punched a key. The drawer slid open with a clack. He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. Then, after a second of hesitation, he pulled out two more twenties.
"Here. Take ninety," Luigi grunted, shoving the cash across the counter. "And sit down. I'm making you a fresh pie. Large pepperoni. On the house. Don't argue with me."
Mark took the cash.
Ding!
[Mission Complete.]
[Base Reward: $5,000.00]
[Multiplier Bonus (Social Degradation): $1,200.00]
[Total Payout: $6,200.00]
Mark's phone buzzed in his pocket beneath the coveralls. A heavy, sustained vibration.
Deposit Received: $6,200.00
Current Balance: $8,192.75
"Thanks, Luigi," Mark said. "I won't say no to pizza."
Ten minutes later, Mark was sitting at a corner table, a steaming box of pizza in front of him. He had stripped off the coveralls and put them in a trash bag. He was back in his street clothes, though he still smelled faintly of lemon soap and plumbing.
He took a bite of the pizza. The cheese stretched, the pepperoni was crisp. It was the best thing he had ever tasted.
[Item Consumed: Luigi's Masterpiece Pizza]
[Effect: +10% Stamina Recovery Rate for 2 hours.]
Mark chewed slowly, pulling up the Shop interface.
[Goal: Skill Book - Basic Appraisal ($20,000)]
[Current Balance: $8,192.75]
[Remaining Needed: $11,807.25]
He was halfway there.
Mark leaned back in the chair, watching the city traffic outside the window. He saw people rushing to jobs they hated, wearing suits they couldn't afford, worried about bills they couldn't pay.
He took another bite of pizza.
"I need one more big job," Mark thought. "Something harder. Something dirtier."
He tapped the [Daily Tasks] tab.
[Refining List...]
[Searching for High-Value/Low-Status Opportunities...]
A new mission flickered onto the screen. Mark read the description, and his eyebrows shot up.
"Well," Mark whispered. "That's certainly... dangerous."
He wiped a crumb from his lip and smiled.
"Accepted."