Volume 2: The Rules of Survival in the Underground World
Summary: Jack faces danger after a black-market deal, but through calm thinking and quick wit, he escapes unharmed—and turns a significant profit.
Chapter 7: Risk and Opportunity
Still catching his breath, Jack leaned against the warm wall of a nearby café, letting the heat from inside ease the tension in his body. The chase had been close—too close. He had survived, but the experience reminded him that even in the lowest rungs of society, the law remained unchanged: survival of the fittest. To make it here, intelligence wasn't enough. One needed awareness, caution, and the ability to protect oneself.
He opened the plastic bag and carefully examined the watches once more. Despite the chaos, they were intact—his stolen treasures still gleaming under the dim streetlights. These watches weren't just expensive timepieces; they were the first stepping stones toward his return to Wall Street, the beginning of his climb out of this dark abyss.
Back at his makeshift "home" tucked into a forgotten corner of an abandoned subway station, Jack carefully hid the watches beneath the creaky wooden planks of his bed. The space was crude and cold, but he had learned how to conceal his assets. With a few layers of old clothes and some crumpled newspapers, he disguised the hiding spot so well that no curious eyes would suspect its secret.
That night, as he lay on the hard surface, sleep eluded him. His mind replayed the dangerous exchange, the adrenaline of escape, and the burning desire deep within him—to rise again, to reclaim what had been taken from him.
He knew that relying solely on black-market deals would take too long. If he wanted to build real power, he needed a faster, more efficient method. And with speed came risk.
The next day, Jack sought out Old John and recounted the events of the previous night.
"John," Jack began, his voice still tinged with unease, "last night's deal almost got me killed. Those homeless thugs were watching me."
Old John exhaled slowly from his cigarette, smoke curling between his fingers. "I told you before, kid. This isn't Wall Street. This is New York's shadow world. You either adapt or disappear. If you want fast money, you have to learn how to dance with wolves."
"Dance with wolves?" Jack asked, puzzled.
Old John nodded, gesturing toward a group of men gambling nearby. "See those guys? They dream of getting rich overnight—but all they'll ever do is feed the sharks. But what if you were the shark?"
Jack's eyes widened. He understood instantly. Until now, he had focused on low-risk, low-reward ventures—like reselling watches or collecting scrap. But Old John was suggesting something bigger: using his financial expertise to establish a gambling operation among the homeless population. Even higher-risk ventures like lending services were possible.
"I get it," Jack said, nodding thoughtfully. "But setting up a casino takes capital. And I don't have much experience. I could draw attention from dangerous groups."
"Those are details," Old John replied with a knowing smile. "You forget your roots. You were a genius on Wall Street—risk assessment and control is what you do best. As for the money, I know someone who might be willing to help."
That someone was known only as "Lame Billy." Once a minor gang leader, Billy had lost his left leg in a violent incident and dropped from power. Now, he made a living running high-interest loans among the homeless—a small but feared figure in the underground economy.
Old John led Jack to meet Lame Billy, who was leaning against a pile of old tires, sipping cheap whiskey and eyeing Jack with suspicion.
"What the hell did you bring me this time, John?" Billy growled, his voice rough and distrustful. "This one doesn't look like he's worth my time."
Old John chuckled and patted Jack's shoulder. "Don't underestimate him, Billy. This kid used to work on Wall Street. Financial brains sharper than both of us combined. He wants to set up a gambling ring down here. He needs your backing."
At the mention of "gambling," Lame Billy's interest sharpened. He set the bottle aside and sat up straighter. "A casino, huh? That's not a bad idea. But why should I trust you? What makes you think you can pull this off?"
Jack knew this was his moment. Taking a steady breath, he answered confidently.
"Mr. Billy, I understand how Wall Street operates, and I understand human psychology. These people—they dream of escape, of sudden fortune. I can design games that appeal directly to their desires. More importantly, I'll implement a structured system of risk management to maximize profits while minimizing losses."
He laid out his plan in detail—explaining payout ratios, probability models, and crowd psychology. He spoke like a seasoned investor pitching to a boardroom of venture capitalists.
By the end, Lame Billy was nodding slowly, impressed.
"Not bad. Not bad at all," he muttered, a smirk forming. "But talk means nothing. Show me results."
"No problem," Jack replied. "Just give me a hundred dollars to start. In one week, I'll show you a return."
After a brief hesitation, Lame Billy handed over the cash. "Fine. You've got one shot. But if you waste my money, you'll wish you hadn't."
With the seed money secured, Jack launched his plan. He converted a spacious corner of the abandoned subway station into a simple gambling den, building a table from scavenged wood and cloth. He designed easy-to-understand games—dice rolling, coin guessing, and number betting—each tailored to attract the desperate hopes of the homeless.
To drum up business, he created flyers printed on torn paper, boldly stating:
"Dream big! Win big! Come to Jack's Casino—your path to riches starts tonight!"
On opening day, a crowd gathered. Most were dreamers, eager to gamble away their misery in the hope of striking gold.
Jack played them expertly. He let a few win early, giving them just enough taste of success to hook them. Then, he encouraged larger bets. Soon, the place was buzzing with energy and noise. Money flowed steadily into the pot.
Within a week, the operation was thriving. Jack paid Lame Billy a generous share of the profits, then reinvested the rest into expanding the business.
Billy looked at the thick stack of bills Jack handed him and smiled broadly. "Kid, you surprised me. Looks like I made the right bet."
Jack smiled back. He knew he had taken the first real step toward his comeback. But he also understood that the underground world was full of both opportunity and peril. He would need to stay sharp, stay cautious, and keep moving forward if he wanted to survive—and eventually achieve his revenge.
This was only the beginning. Greater challenges awaited. He had no doubt that those who had destroyed him were still watching, waiting. But he would be ready. He would grow stronger. And when the time came, he would strike back with everything he had.
For now, the casino was just one tool in his arsenal. Ahead lay an uncertain future—but also, a future filled with possibility.