Chapter 3: The Shadow of Gain
The echo of Thomas MacIntyre's augmented presence lingered in Elias Thorne's apartment long after the Scotsman had departed, toolbox in hand, to wrestle with the recalcitrant boiler. Elias himself felt... different. The world was sharper, crisper. His own body, usually a familiar, almost unremarkable vessel, now hummed with a quiet energy. He was stronger, yes. He'd tested it subtly: lifting his heavy oak desk chair with one hand as if it were wicker, feeling the dense solidity of the floorboards under his feet with a new tactile awareness. His Host Power, now 3.0, was a tangible reality.
But Thomas was a unique case: absolute, pre-existing loyalty. The System had been clear: 10% gain for standard empowerment. This, Elias knew, needed testing. His burgeoning network couldn't rely solely on finding individuals with Thomas's unwavering devotion. Such men were unicorns. He needed a more... transactional approach for broader expansion.
His gaze fell upon the System interface, still glowing softly beside his desk. [Energy: 90/100]. The Goblin empowerment cost only 5 Energy Points. The description: "Confers enhanced speed, agility, and an unnatural aptitude for acquiring material wealth (theft, resource detection). Slight, grotesque physical transformation possible." Perfect for a low-stakes experiment.
He needed a subject. Someone expendable, if necessary. Someone whose loyalty was non-existent, allowing him to accurately gauge the 10% return. His mind sifted through the colourful tapestry of tenants and local vagrants he encountered daily.
One name surfaced: Mickey "Fingers" O'Halloran. A wiry, weasel-faced sneak thief who occasionally haunted the peripheries of his properties, known for pilfered milk bottles, swiped newspapers, and an uncanny ability to disappear into shadows when confronted. Mickey owed him back rent on a tiny, dilapidated room in the Saint-Henri district – a room Mickey used more as a bolt-hole than a home.
Elias made a decision. He donned his coat, tucked a small roll of bills into his pocket – less than usual, as a precaution – and headed out. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of coal smoke and damp earth. Montreal felt vibrant around him, its citizens hurrying about their business, oblivious to the subtle shift in power that had just occurred in a small apartment in the Old Port. For a moment, Elias felt a thrill, a sense of holding a secret that could crack the world open.
He found Mickey attempting to jimmy the lock on a grocer's delivery entrance off a cobbled alleyway near Bonsecours Market. The tell-tale scratching sound was unmistakable.
"Mr. O'Halloran," Elias said, his voice calm but carrying easily in the narrow space.
Mickey froze, then whirled, a length of bent wire clattering to the ground. His eyes, small and shifty, widened in panic. "Mr. Thorne! I... uh... I was just checkin' this lock for ol' Mr. Henderson. Make sure it's secure, y'see."