The successful fusion and the resulting [Urban Phantom Movement] Aspect provided a significant boost to Adam's confidence and capabilities, but the meager 285 IP and near-empty bank account were constant, nagging reminders of his precarious position. Training burned calories he could barely afford to replace, and while his new movement skills made navigating the city easier and safer, they didn't pay the rent. His OmniCorp investment was a long-term play; he needed something faster.
His future knowledge remained his trump card. He began spending hours each day alternating between the hushed, dusty archives of the New York Public Library and the flickering screens of cheap internet cafes. Cross-referencing fragmented memories of news headlines from his past life with archived newspapers from late 2006 and early 2007 was tedious work. He scanned microfiche, scrolled through poorly digitized news sites, searching for a specific, predictable ripple in the local pond – something less volatile than the stock market, something concrete.
His Aspects proved invaluable during this phase. [Urban Phantom Movement] allowed him to traverse the city quickly and discreetly, saving time and avoiding unwanted attention. He could slip into the library's less-monitored sections or find unoccupied terminals in internet cafes with ease. His passive [Danger Intuition] kept him alert, a low hum that spiked occasionally near certain library patrons or cafe regulars, reminding him to keep a low profile.
After days of painstaking research that tested his patience and his dwindling funds (internet cafe time wasn't free), he found it. Not a corporate scandal or a tech breakthrough, but something mundane, easily overlooked: a city council zoning vote. He remembered a specific, minor rezoning proposal for a neglected four-block section deep in Brooklyn, near the old Navy Yard. It had seemed insignificant at the time in his old life, barely a footnote in local news, but he distinctly recalled the surprise when it passed, leading to rapid gentrification plans and a sharp, localized spike in property values. The vote, according to the archives, was scheduled for the end of next week.
This was it. A predictable outcome with a tangible, localized effect. His plan formed quickly: acquire some kind of short-term stake in property within that specific four-block radius before the vote. Not buying – he couldn't afford a down payment on a cardboard box – but maybe securing an option, a short-term lease, anything that would allow him to profit from the value jump immediately after the vote passed.
He needed more capital than the ~$110 he had left. Back in the apartment, he searched desperately. Adam Walker's parents hadn't been wealthy; the apartment was proof of that. But tucked away in a small, tarnished wooden box under the loose floorboard Adam remembered from the boy's memories, he found it – a simple silver locket, slightly dented, containing faded pictures of the couple. A pang of guilt hit him – selling the last memento of the people whose life he'd inadvertently inherited. But pragmatism won out. Survival first. He pocketed the locket.
Finding a pawn shop that wouldn't ask too many questions took some searching, guided by his Urban Navigation towards seedier neighborhoods where his Danger Intuition pulsed a steady warning. He haggled, feigning teenage desperation, and walked away with another $140. Total cash: around $250. Still barely anything, but it would have to do.
The next challenge was making the transaction. He couldn't exactly walk into a high-end real estate office. Instead, he found a struggling, independent broker operating out of a cramped office on the edge of the target zone. Playing the part of an overly ambitious, slightly naive teenager with a small inheritance windfall (a story the broker seemed eager to believe), Adam managed to negotiate a deal: a 30-day option agreement on a tiny, dilapidated storefront within the designated four blocks, using nearly his entire $250 as the non-refundable option fee. The agreement gave him the right, but not the obligation, to lease the property at a pre-agreed, currently low rate within that month. If the value jumped, that option itself would become valuable. It was a gamble on his memory being accurate.
The following week was agonizing. He threw himself into training, pushing his body harder, fueled by slightly better food bought with the last of his cash. He practiced [Urban Phantom Movement] on rooftops at night, the thrill of near-silent, high-speed traversal a welcome distraction. His wall-running improved, lasting longer, feeling more controlled. His Danger Intuition became sharper, allowing him to navigate potentially hazardous training routes with more confidence. The System rewarded him with another small IP boost.
[Sustained Training Milestone Reached. +10 IP Awarded. Current IP: 295]
Finally, the day of the city council vote arrived. Adam spent hours glued to a screen at the internet cafe, refreshing the city council's archaic website and local news feeds. Hours crawled by. Then, it happened. An update flashed: Resolution 7B-443, regarding the rezoning of Brooklyn Navy Yard adjacent sectors, PASSED. 5-4 vote.
He almost sagged in relief. His memory held true. Local news blogs immediately picked up the story, citing the unexpected decision and quoting analysts predicting significant redevelopment interest and rising property values for the previously neglected area.
Adam didn't waste a second. He contacted the broker, feigning surprise at the news but immediately exercising his right to transfer the option agreement itself. The broker, likely seeing his own opportunity, quickly found a buyer – a small-time property speculator eager to get in on the ground floor. After the broker's commission, Adam walked away with just over $7,000.
Compared to the billions Tony Stark played with, it was pocket change. But to Adam, standing on a Brooklyn sidewalk with more cash than he'd ever held in either life, it felt like a fortune. It was breathing room. It was proof of concept – his knowledge was power.
That night, he treated himself. Not to anything extravagant, but to a proper meal at a cheap diner – a burger, fries, a milkshake. Food that wasn't instant ramen. It tasted like victory.
He checked his status. IP: 295. Aspects: [Danger Intuition (B)], [Urban Phantom Movement (B)]. Slots: 1/3 (One free). Lottery Chances: 1x B-Rank. And now, enough money to survive for months, to eat properly, maybe even afford slightly better training gear or resources.
The empty integration slot felt like an open door. The B-Rank lottery chance felt like a key. He had options now, real options. The constant, grinding pressure of immediate survival had eased, replaced by the larger, looming shadow of the future he knew was coming.