Zark trudged through the dimly lit streets of the squatter area, his shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion. The rain started light, then turned into a downpour. He pulled his hoodie tighter, the cold droplets seeping into his clothes. His black hoodie clung to his lean frame, making him feel the chill deep in his bones. As he scanned the streets, his eyes caught a flickering neon sign.
"ROG... Republic of Gamers," Zark muttered under his breath.
"Guess this place will do."
He entered the shop, shaking off the rain. The scent of electronics mixed with instant noodles greeted him, along with the steady clicks of keyboards.
"What can I do for you?"
The shop owner, a muscular man with a normal haircut and a net cap, looked up from behind the counter. His gaze was calm but knowing.
Zark fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a few crumpled coins.
"Just a couple of hours," he said, sliding the coins across the counter.
The owner glanced at the money, then at Zark's soaked figure.
"Alright, take any open PC."
Zark shuffled to an empty seat, feeling the curious glances from a few gamers, but he ignored them. As he sat down, the exhaustion from the past few days hit him like a ton of bricks. His mind was foggy, and the hum of the computers provided some dull comfort. He logged into the computer and started browsing mindlessly.
A group of gamers nearby were complaining, loud enough to be heard across the shop.
"What the hell, man? This lag is killing us!" one of them groaned, slamming his mouse down.
Zark glanced over, his curiosity piqued.
"Come on, we're not paying for this crap!" another gamer whined.
The shop owner, behind the counter, muttered under his breath, "Not this again... damn router."
Zark's fingers hovered over the keyboard, his instincts kicking in. He didn't like leaving things broken, especially when the fix was right there. He opened a terminal window on his rented machine, quietly running a network scan to check the connection.
bash
sudo nmap -sP 192.168.1.1/24
The scan revealed the problem—one of the systems was hogging the bandwidth. Zark couldn't help himself. With a few quick commands, he rerouted the network traffic, balancing the load and fixing the lag.
bash
curl -u admin:password http://192.168.1.1/adjust_bandwidth
Moments later, the complaints from the gamers stopped.
"Hey! It's working now!" one of them shouted.
"Finally, the ping's back to normal."
Zark smirked faintly, tapping his fingers on the desk as he closed the terminal. He leaned back, trying to relax, but he felt the shop owner's eyes on him.
The owner approached Zark casually, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Connection's better now, huh?" His voice had an edge of curiosity.
Zark shrugged, not meeting his gaze directly.
"Just needed a quick fix. Nothing major."
The shop owner raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.
"Most people wouldn't know where to start with that."
Zark remained silent, his fingers still drumming on the desk.
The owner gave a small smile, as if he'd just figured something out.
"Guess you're not here to just play games." He left the comment hanging, turning back to his counter, but Zark could tell the conversation wasn't over.
As the hours passed and the rain drummed steadily outside, the shop slowly emptied. Soon, Zark was the only one left, his face dimly illuminated by the glow of the monitor. His eyelids grew heavier, his head nodding down as sleep crept in.
From behind the counter, the shop owner watched Zark with quiet sympathy. He noticed how Zark had slumped over, barely conscious. After a few moments of deliberation, the owner stood up and approached the sleeping figure.
"Kid looks like he's been through hell," he whispered to himself.
He gently draped a blanket over Zark's shoulders, careful not to wake him.
"Rest up," he said softly before heading back to his desk, still thinking about the earlier network fix.
The next morning, the shop was quiet except for the hum of the computers. Zark stirred awake, blinking as he took in his surroundings. He noticed the blanket around him and frowned.
"How did this get here?" he muttered, pulling it off.
Outside, the shop owner's voice boomed as he shouted to the kids at the entrance.
"We're closed today! Internet's down, no gaming 'til later!"
Zark stood quickly, realizing where he was.
"Damn... must've knocked out."
He walked to the counter, where the shop owner was wiping down the machines.
"Hey, uh... I'm sorry," Zark started, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Didn't mean to crash here. I—"
The owner waved him off with a chuckle, rubbing his hands together, his net cap shifting slightly.
"No worries, kid. You looked like you needed it."
He gave Zark a once-over, taking in the disheveled appearance.
"How about some breakfast? We've got some things to talk about."
Zark hesitated, his stomach growling at the mention of food.
"I don't want to impose—"
"Impose?" the owner laughed, waving his hand.
"Kid, you look like you haven't eaten in days. C'mon."
He nodded toward the back of the shop.
"A full stomach will make you feel human again."
Zark's hunger gnawed at him, and he eventually relented.
"Alright," he said, following the owner into a small kitchen area.
The smell of fried eggs and coffee hit him as he sat down. The owner placed a plate in front of him, and Zark didn't waste any time digging in. The food was simple but warm, and every bite felt like it brought him back to life.
The owner sat across from him with his own cup of coffee, watching as Zark finished the meal.
"Feel better?" the owner asked with a playful smirk.
Zark nodded, leaning back in his chair.
"Yeah... thanks."
He felt more at ease than he had in days.
The owner studied him for a moment before speaking.
"So, what brings you here? You don't exactly look like the typical gamer."
Zark shrugged, setting down his fork.
"Just passing through." His voice was vague, trying not to give too much away.
The owner raised an eyebrow, not buying it.
"Passing through, huh? The way you knocked out last night, seems like you've been through more than just passing." He leaned in slightly.
"Look, I'm not here to pry, but I've seen a lot of people come and go. Something tells me you've got skills beyond just gaming."
Zark stiffened, suspicion creeping into his tone.
"What do you mean?"
The owner chuckled softly, leaning back.
"I've got a feeling you know your way around a computer. You're not some random kid off the street, are you?"
Zark hesitated, his mind racing.
"Maybe," he answered cautiously.
The owner rubbed his hands together, a knowing smile spreading across his face.
"Relax, kid. I'm not the type to judge. In fact, I think you might be someone... useful."
Zark's brow furrowed.
"Useful? For what?"
The owner tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table.
"Let's just say there are people who could use someone like you. People who can give you a fresh start."
Zark frowned, the weight of the words sinking in.
"What kind of people?"
The owner waved a hand.
"Good people. People trying to make things better. And they've got resources—resources that could help someone in your situation."
Zark leaned back, his mind racing.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
The owner shrugged.
"You don't. But from the looks of things, you don't have much left to lose, do you?"
Zark swallowed, the truth of the statement hitting him harder than he expected.
"Maybe," he muttered, after a long pause.
"Maybe I don't."
The owner stood, extending his hand with a grin.
"By the way, name's Jojo Enriquez. I run this shop."
Zark reached out, shaking his hand.
"Zark. Nice to meet you."
For a moment, Jojo froze. His eyes widened slightly as the name registered. Zark. The same name Samantha had been talking about for weeks. The guy they were looking for—the key to everything. And now, here he was, right in front of him.
"No way... it's him," Jojo thought, his mind racing. This was an opportunity he couldn't waste. If Samantha knew Zark was already here, in his shop, she'd be thrilled. He needed to act fast, but not too fast.
Jojo quickly masked his surprise, letting the shock settle into determination. "This is it," he thought. "I can't let him slip through my fingers. Samantha's been looking for him, and now he's right here. I've got to make sure he doesn't walk away."
Jojo smiled faintly, the gears turning in his mind.
"So... how exactly do you plan on helping me?" Zark asked.
Jojo crossed his arms, his tone growing more serious.
"Before we help you, I need to know something first."
"What's that?"
Jojo leaned in, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"What's your story, kid? Tell me what happened."
Zark looked away, the weight of his past suddenly pressing down on him. But there was something in Jojo's tone—a genuine kindness—that made him feel like he could trust him, at least a little.
Taking a deep breath, Zark began to tell his story. He spoke about his upbringing, his time at Lumenis Institute, and the fall from grace that had led him here. The tragic loss of his family. Dropping out of school. His run-in with Jason Cheng. As he spoke, he could feel some of the burden lifting.
When Zark finished, Jojo sat quietly for a moment, rubbing his chin.
"That's one hell of a story," Jojo said softly.
"Sounds like you've been through the wringer."
Zark nodded, his voice tired.
"Yeah... you could say that."
Jojo leaned back, thinking for a moment.
"Alright, Zark. You've got my attention. Maybe I can help you after all."
Zark blinked, surprised.
"You really think you can?"
Jojo smiled faintly, the determination settling in his mind.
"Let's just say, I know some people who'd be very interested in someone with your skill set."
Zark sat up straighter, his heart racing.
"What do you mean? Who are these people?"
Jojo motioned for him to follow.
"Come on, I'll show you."
As they walked deeper into the shop, Jojo's mind was still racing. This is it. Samantha's not going to believe I found him. I can't mess this up.
Zark, unaware of the storm brewing in Jojo's mind, followed him into the back of the shop. Whatever Jojo had in store, it felt like the next step in a life that was constantly taking unexpected turns.