Chapter 613 (1/2)

The Lottery was a concept that Senator Firefly came up with to both encourage enrollment in the military and to give the lower classes in the Orchard a way to rise up. Even though it had only been several months, the Orchard was beginning to move towards being rough in some districts. To escape that, the Lottery was born.

It wasn’t truly a lottery, but part of it was random. The idea was that buying rations from one of the sponsored grocery stores would always come with a paper pouch. If you arrived home and ripped open the paper pouch to find a golden ticket, that was an admit one to the chance of the lifetime.

The Lottery occurred every month on the last day. Each month, 30 tickets would be distributed to the surrounding grocery stores. Those tickets would allow you to attend the lottery, which was an event where you would be put in front of the elites of the military, the research department, political organizations, Chivalric Orders… it was basically a giant job interview. And very rarely did people attend seriously and not receive some sort of compensation.

There were a few caveats, however. Namely that a person could only attend a Lottery one time and they couldn’t have a Class.

None of this would even matter, however, if there hadn’t been an accident at last months Lottery. A man with the ability to shatter stone with his fists destroyed the stage and collapsed it on top of spectators. It was in the Old District, so hundreds were injured and there were even a few deaths.

After that, Senator Firefly pulled some strings to move Lottery to a sturdier location, and one that befitted the solemnity of the occasion. The penthouse ballroom of the Manhattan Building in the commercial district of the Orchard.

Aside from the scene views available in the penthouse ballroom, one particular factoid of note was that the Manhattan Building was home to Orchard’s largest bank on the bottom few floors.

So as people ooo’d and ahh’d at the chance to be inside the penthouse ballroom of the Manhattan Building, someone within the Haveheights opened up a lottery ticket and had an idea: use the ticket to enter into the Manhattan Building to rob the bank. Not of all of its money, of course, but as much as that person could carry.

Still, the Haveheights had a problem; all of their influential members had already obtained a Class. It was a quick path to power, and they had taken it to stay competitive in a city that was increasingly full of power hungry gangs. Besides that, they would need someone that they could control to do it. The Haveheights would look like fools if the person they picked to go in just fled with the money. So they needed leverage on that person. And vulnerabilities.

That was why Ricky Stain took the time to explain the details of the plan to Naffur Suite.

Naffur was rather skeptical that entering through the use of a lottery ticket would do that much to help in the mission. But by the end, he was somewhat swayed. His listened with sweaty palms as Stain explained that having the applicants demonstrate their combat Skills was very common, so they would be able to bring weapons into the building. In addition, quite a few of the rather capable security guards the bank employed would be diverted to the ballroom to protect the VIPs.

Although the System generally meant that people at the top could use their influence to speed up their Leveling and grow strong, very few relied solely on their strength. It was very rare to see even the most powerful Classer without bodyguards.

Randidly Ghosthound was the exception that proved the rule. If you weren't him, it was better to be safe than sorry.

The plan was rather simple. During the combat portion, Naffur was to look for an opportunity to be injured. Use that opportunity to go to the healer’s tent, and afterward excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Slip away from or incapacitate any guards who followed him, and then drop down to the ground floor to launch a surprise attack on the back of the guards.

When they heard the commotion, the rest of the team that was waiting outside will attack. During the confusion, Naffur was to grab as much currency and valuables as he could find and slip out.

The more Naffur listened to Ricky Stain, the more he realized something. Even if things went South, the Haveheights would lose nothing. Naffur would need to accomplish almost everything successfully before they would even become involved. It wasn’t particularly complicated, but…

“You know, it’s not all bad. I know of your… circumstances.” Ricky Stain grinned and revealed yellowing teeth. “Got a taste for craps, eh kid? But if you do well here… who knows, there will probably be more jobs like this in the future. You could be so rich that your organization hires from the lottery. Wouldn’t that be something?”

The Stain held out the shimmery golden ticket.

As Naffur reached out to take the ticket, he froze; Ricky Stain had drawn a plasma pistol and was pointing it at his chest. At this range, it was impossible to dodge. And Naffur had seen plasma eat through human bones like-

“Don’t fuck this up.” Ricky Stain reversed the pistol and offered it to Naffur. “Welcome to the team.”

The next day passed in a blur. Before Naffur knew it, he was walking up to the Manhattan Building in a suit. There was a cheap exosuit on his back, an energy suit. He had several plasma grenades, a plasma pistol, and a concussion charge. The elevator he rode up in was a light blue with silver metal trim. After looking at it for a while, Naffur went pale; it was genuine silver.

By sheer coincidence, he road up with a tall woman who was scribbling furiously in a small notebook while mumbling to herself. She seemed to be practicing what she would say to impress the people she might meet.

“Incredible,” the woman muttered. “The combat spirit around you is so thick, Mr. Ghosthound. It’s a pleasure.”

Naffur tried not to roll his eyes. Was she practicing lines in case she met actually met him? The Ghosthound rarely came to the Lottery events. Even the people who ran the lottery, aside from Senator Firefly, wanted to meet the Ghosthound. That was just the kind of person a hero was. There was always another task that needed doing.

To Naffur’s surprise, the first part of the plan went off so well it was uncanny. After being gobsmacked by the opulence of the strange floating globes of light and the crystal dome covering the entirety of the ballroom, Naffur was informed that as he was a few hours early, to take some time to be acquainted with the space. There were a dozen people already there, practicing their Skills. Naffur wandered over to an athletic bald man and timidly asked if he wanted to spar a bit.

He was so nervous that his Deceitful Words Skill didn't’ even proc. But the man accepted and they began fighting. Naffur… well, he wasn’t bad at fighting, but he wasn’t good either. He had no true offensive Skills. Most of his fighting revolved around using Feign Injury and Feints to confuse the opponent, then striking with Cheap Shot.

As it turned out, his opponent was rather skilled in the mental games associated with fighting, and it became a genuinely enjoyable duel for a while. Then, gritting his teeth, Naffur deflected the man’s blow just a hair too weakly, and his follow up low kick cracked into Naffur’s side.

“Oof,” Naffur said, dramatically gasping and staggering backward. Looking concerned, the other man stopped.

One of the employees walked quickly over and waved the man away. “Don’t worry about it, this happens a lot. Kid, you alright? Head down a floor, there is a healer waiting there for situations like this. But hurry, we will probably start in 25 minutes.”

Feeling like he was sleepwalking, Naffur limped convincingly to the elevators. The doors opened. A young woman’s humming reached his ears. With widening eyes, Naffur watched Mareen walk out of the elevator, so intent on whatever she was thinking about that she didn’t see him.