My Infinite Investment System

The grey case froze behind supplier glass when Ryan selected it, and the system opened across his vision before the loading rail could lift it.

[Verified supplier: Northstar Recovery Holdings]

[Item: Cardiac Regulator CR-7]

[Transfer ownership to Mika Santos?]

He thought yes, the window vanished, and for one terrible second nothing happened before every phone outside chimed at once.

[Supplier payment: $184,600.00]

[Personal funds used: $0.00]

The supervisor stopped beside the truck, looked at his screen, then looked at the case as if it had personally changed sides.

Mika opened the front door as cold rain carried in diesel, wet concrete, and fried onions, then asked, "Problem?" with her camera smile warming.

The supervisor read his screen again, using both hands now, before admitting, "The asset lien cleared."

She leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, glanced toward the nearest livestream, and said, "That sounded painful, say it again for the people buffering."

Color crept up his cheeks as he repeated, "Payment cleared in full, ownership transferred to Mika Santos."

{ratking_09: the furniture fought back}

Ryan remained behind the frosted panel, where the crowd could see a suit-shaped blur without seeing his expression.

’No limit,’ he thought, staring at the regulator, ’but four hundred and eighty dollars for me would apparently threaten the divine economy.’

The recovery crew lowered the case from the truck.

One worker removed his gloves before touching it, suddenly respectful now that the equipment belonged to somebody with cameras.

She stepped aside and said, "Put it in the service hall, gently enough that I don’t learn your name," and the man adjusted his grip.

The supervisor entered last with the clipboard held like evidence, then found Ryan behind the frosted panel and asked, "Where did the payment originate?"

He checked the receipt on Mika’s phone, which named a regulated settlement bank and nothing useful beyond it, then raised the screen and said, "A bank."

His own banking app still showed $900.17, because the system had moved six figures without touching one cent he could spend.

The supervisor flattened his thumb against the clipboard and asked, "Which account?"

He met his stare through the glass and answered, "One with sufficient funds."

Mika pressed her lips together, trapping a laugh that would have weakened the scene.

The supervisor stepped closer, lowering his voice as he said, "We have anti-fraud obligations."

"Then perform them," Ryan said, pointing toward the receipt, "after your crew releases property you no longer own."

The humor left his voice as the worker’s hands remained on the case.

Mika heard the change.

She moved between them without looking back, casual for the cameras but balanced for violence.

"You got paid," she said, letting the public smile widen, "take the win before your afternoon becomes educational."

The worker released the handle.

Three minutes later, the truck pulled away with the mirrored throne and none of Mika’s medical equipment.

The crowd followed it down the block, hungry for the next humiliation.

Northstar became quiet, and she locked the door, checked it twice, then rested her forehead against the glass and said, "Tell me you know how to install it."

He looked at the case instead of her and admitted, "I know how to verify that somebody else installed it correctly."

Her forehead remained against the door as she groaned, "That is such an upsetting answer."

He thumbed the case latch and offered, "I can read the service guide."

She turned her head just enough to look at him with one eye and said, "Worse."

He opened the case.

The regulator lay inside black impact foam, a silver unit the size of a hardback book, with two insulated leads and a narrow status screen.

Red dust covered the left socket.

The system’s support view sharpened without warning.

Thin gold lines appeared around the machine, converging on the dust until the contamination looked brighter than the device.

[Support approved]

[Growth pending]

No tutorial followed, and he rubbed his eyes while the gold outline remained.

Mika crouched across from him, her jacket pulling tight over her shoulders as she asked, "What now?"

He pointed to the bright edge of the socket and said, "The left port is contaminated."

She leaned closer, rough waves falling beside her cheek as her suspicion sharpened, "You saw that without opening the housing?"

He followed the gold line into the device and said, "I can see where power wants to go."

The truth escaped before he could sand it down.

Mika’s eyes lifted from the regulator, her notched eyebrow rising as she said, "That sounds suspiciously like an explanation."

He spread his empty hands and replied, "It’s the complete version."

Her gaze stayed on him for another beat before she muttered, "Horrifying."

She sat on the stripped floor and pulled a small repair kit from beneath the reception desk.

The box contained alcohol wipes, ceramic tweezers, three driver heads, and a roll of tape with cartoon strawberries printed across it.

He pinched the strawberry tape between two fingers and asked, "Professional equipment?"

She dug through the driver heads and said, "It was either this or tiny ducks."

He put the roll beside his knee with solemn care and replied, "You chose correctly."

Mika passed him the tweezers, her fingertips brushing his palm for less than a second, and his ears heated anyway.

She noticed, glanced at his hand, then let the corner of her mouth rise as she said, "Please survive basic contact, suit guy."

He lowered his face toward the socket and blamed, "The floor is cold."

Her smile widened while she tapped one warm fingertip against the shell of his ear and said, "Your ears disagree."

He cleared his throat and focused on the red dust, refusing to make the same biological mistake twice in one day.

The contamination came free in brittle flakes.

Underneath, the socket carried three deep scratches.

Ryan opened the service guide on his phone, scrolled past warnings, then found the lead diagram.

He enlarged the diagram, checked it twice, and said, "The regulator needs skin contact near the damaged route."

Mika’s amusement disappeared.

Her fingers caught the hem of her jacket as she asked, "Where?"

He traced the failed current in memory, from knuckles to wrist, then under the left ribs where her hand kept returning.

He indicated both locations on himself rather than her and explained, "Shoulder lead here, grounding lead below the ribs."

She watched the distance he kept, then held his gaze and said, "You don’t touch until I place your hand."

He nodded once and promised, "I won’t."

Her notched eyebrow climbed, forcing him to close his eyes briefly before adding, "I heard you."

She collected the leads with a satisfied hum and said, "Good, I was worried unemployment damaged your range."

She stood and carried the regulator toward the service hall.

The room had once stored liquor, judging by the sweet fermented smell trapped beneath dust.

A padded bench remained bolted to one wall, its vinyl split near the headrest.

Mika set the unit beside it, then eased off her cropped jacket to reveal a black compression top and a narrow band of stomach.

Purple branching marks spread from her left ribs toward her back, too regular for bruising and too dark for healthy lightning.

He forgot the service guide until she hooked one finger beneath the hem, waited for his eyes to return to hers, and asked, "Still professional?"

He set his phone beside the regulator before it could slip from his damp hand and said, "Trying very hard."

The honest answer made her look away first.

Mika lifted the top far enough to expose the lower route, then turned her shoulder toward him.

He cleaned both contact sites without touching anything beyond the wipe’s path.

Her skin smelled faintly of citrus, cold rain, and the sharp metallic trace of failed current.

The lower lead clicked into place.

Pink light moved beneath her skin, reached the damaged branching marks, then recoiled.

Her inhale snapped short, and he lifted both hands away from her before asking, "Pain?"

She pressed her tongue against one canine and said, "Five."

He watched the current jump beneath her ribs and asked, "Out of ten?"

She forced a smile that never reached her eyes and replied, "Out of minding your business."

Her smile failed halfway through, so he removed his hand from the lead and said, "We stop at seven."

Her palm closed over the regulator dial as she warned, "We stop when I say."

He kept his hand off hers and answered, "You already did, your face just used numbers."

Mika stared at him, anger arriving before the fear underneath it, then looked down at the dark route along her ribs.

Her fingers loosened around the dial as she admitted, "Six."

Ryan lowered the regulator output.

The current moved again, slower this time, following the lead instead of striking the damage.

Her shoulders lowered one careful inch as the current finally settled into a steady rhythm.

[Investment active]

[Growth condition: Mika stabilizes one complete lightning pathway]

The rule was simple enough to understand while still being awful, because she had to do the hard part while the system only bought the chance.

Outside, metal struck Northstar’s side door hard enough to rattle the regulator against the bench.

Mika opened her eyes as another impact shook dust from the service-hall ceiling.

Ryan unplugged the loose charging cable and said, "Somebody’s on the door."

Her hands steadied against the bench as she said, "The repossession crew left."

The building lights died.

The regulator screen went black while pink current climbed uncontrolled beneath her skin.