The first few weeks after the activation of the Hundred Times Income Multiplier were surreal. At first, I thought it was some sort of trick—maybe a prank from the universe—but when the effects were undeniable, I knew my life was about to change. The shop, once just a barely surviving venture, began to pull in more customers than I could handle. My meager stock was flying off the shelves, and every day, my profits surged.
But there were problems. Serious ones.
For all the wealth pouring in, Inchoate City wasn't the type of place where success was celebrated—it was the type of place where success made you a target. My rise hadn't gone unnoticed, and soon enough, the local troublemakers took notice. It started with small things: a broken window here, an item "borrowed" without my knowledge there. Nothing too drastic, but enough to make me nervous. It wasn't long before the gangs started circling.
I didn't know much about the gangs in Inchoate at first. The city's underworld wasn't something I'd been prepared for. I was used to the bureaucracy and cold power struggles of the Alfonso family in Chicago, not the petty cruelty and violence that ran rampant in a place like this. But now, I was part of this world whether I liked it or not.
One afternoon, I was stocking the shelves when a group of rough-looking men entered the store. They were dressed in ragged clothes, tattoos running up their arms, and their eyes were too sharp to be friendly.
"Hey," one of them said, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek. "Nice store you got here. Pretty busy for a place like this, huh?"
I wiped my hands on my jeans, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm just trying to make a living."
He smirked, looking around at the stock. "You know, a business like this can't last long without protection. Guys like us, we can make sure you don't have any... problems. For a price, of course."
I'd heard of the gangs in Inchoate. They didn't just control the streets; they controlled everything. They made sure businesses like mine paid for the privilege of staying open. If you refused, you could find yourself with a broken leg or worse.
The tall man leaned in, his breath heavy with alcohol. "How about it? Protection? You don't want to make this harder than it needs to be."
I knew what I was supposed to do. My instincts told me to pay. Pay, keep the peace, and keep building my business. But something inside me refused to let them dictate my life, just as I'd refused to let the Alfonso family control me.
"No," I said, my voice firm despite the pounding of my heart. "I don't need your protection."
The man's eyes narrowed, and the room seemed to grow colder. "You'll regret that," he muttered before turning and leaving with his group. The door slammed behind them, and I was left standing there, shaken but resolute.
I knew this wouldn't be the last time they'd come. Inchoate City didn't allow weakness, and now, I had painted a target on my back.
Over the next few days, things started to escalate. More strange people came in, some claiming to be customers, others just watching, sizing me up. The store, which had once seemed like my chance at freedom, was now becoming a battleground. I started getting nervous, not just about the gangs, but about the growing pressure that came with success.
I wasn't afraid to fight back. But I needed more than just courage. I needed to be prepared.
That's when I decided to take matters into my own hands. I started taking self-defense classes. At first, I thought it was just about learning how to throw a punch or block a kick. But the more I trained, the more I realized how little I knew about true strength. I wasn't just learning to fight. I was learning to control my fear, to tap into something deeper than the helplessness I'd carried for so long.
I began to change. I was still the same Jack Alfonso who had grown up in a family that never cared about him, but now, there was a fire inside me—a desire to fight for everything I was building. Slowly, I built up my strength, both mentally and physically, and began to make connections with people who had the kind of power that couldn't be measured in money alone.
One night, as I was leaving the store after another long day, I was approached by someone who looked like trouble. A tall man with a scruffy beard and a leather jacket stepped out from the shadows. His expression was cold, calculating.
"Word on the street is you're a tough guy," he said. "But in Inchoate, you don't get to survive by being tough alone. You need to learn how to make the right allies."
I wasn't sure what he meant at first, but it didn't take long to figure it out. The city was a place where power wasn't just about money—it was about relationships, leverage, and influence. The gangs, the businesses, and even the so-called "legitimate" authorities all worked together in a delicate web of power.
I would need more than just my store and my multiplying profits to survive here. I would need to learn how to navigate the dangerous undercurrents of the city, build my network, and find a way to protect what I had built.
The road ahead was going to be difficult, and I knew that the higher I climbed, the more dangerous the world would become. But I was ready. I couldn't go back now. Not when I was so close to claiming the future I'd always dreamed of.