A Chance

"One thousand and five hundred stone points—what do you think?" Hossam asked, his tone steady but edged with a hint of amusement.

"Enough, Hossam. I don't have time to bargain with you over a mere five hundred," the merchant replied, exhaling sharply.

"A mere five hundred? Nobody outside the walls would even dream of earning that, even if they worked their entire lives."

"I hate doing business with you. I hope this is the last time," the merchant muttered under his breath. Then, louder: "Move to the city, Hossam. I know you've got enough to live the rest of your life without lifting a finger."

The merchant sighed heavily, like a man who'd just given up on convincing a particularly stubborn mule. He cast a quick glance at the neatly stacked boxes nearby before speaking again.

"How are you planning to transport all these?"

"I brought my truck," Hossam replied with a casual shrug.

"Shall I get you someone to help move the boxes?" the merchant offered, though his tone carried little sympathy.

"And waste my money to pay them? No thanks. I'll move them myself." Hossam laughed, patting his chest. "What's the point of living if you don't handle your own business? Strength isn't meant to sit idle, ordering others around all the time!"

The merchant simply stared at him for a moment, then turned away without a word. Hossam shook his head and chuckled softly.

"Well, he's gone. Haha… Alright, time to get to work," he said, rubbing his hands together as he opened the back door of his truck.

As he prepared to move the boxes, Hossam caught sight of someone familiar across the street. A grin spread across his face.

"Tobi! Is that you? Come over here and give me a hand!"

Ten minutes earlier

Tobi sat on a rusted barrel near the market, idly chewing on something that resembled a mushroom. The road bustled with activity, merchants hawking their wares and customers haggling over prices. The faint glimmer of the white stones embedded in the cavern ceiling above lent an otherworldly glow to the scene, but it was no substitute for sunlight.

Food was scarce outside the city walls, especially for those in the slums. While the cities had long since solved the problem of growing crops underground with their advanced technologies, such luxuries never extended beyond the walls. For the people in the slums, survival meant making do with what they could scavenge, barter, or grow themselves.

Tobi popped another mushroom into his mouth, savoring its earthy taste as best he could. He was mid-bite when Friend's voice rang in his head.

"Quickly, get up and go to the end of the street. Turn right and keep going forward."

"Why? What do you wan—" Tobi began, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Just go there, idiot," Friend cut him off sharply.

"Fine," Tobi muttered, shoving the rest of the mushroom into his mouth. He dusted off his hands and began walking.

The market was alive with energy, an organized chaos of sights, sounds, and smells. Merchants shouted to advertise their goods, from gleaming trinkets to worn tools. Makeshift stalls made from salvaged scraps lined the road, their owners determined to eke out a living amidst the harshness of their environment.

The air carried the rich aroma of roasted nuts and spices, mingling with the metallic tang of the nearby machinery district. Tobi weaved through the throngs of people, his senses overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle around him.

Despite its challenges, the market was a lifeline for both slum residents and those from the city. People bartered for necessities, swapped stories, and built fragile bridges of camaraderie in an unforgiving world.

As Tobi made his way down the street, his mind wandered. He wondered why Friend was being so cryptic today. Usually, there was a reason—some warning or instruction that ultimately made sense. This time, though, it just felt like an unnecessary detour.

Turning right as instructed, Tobi continued forward, his footsteps falling into the rhythm of the marketplace.

"Tobi! Is that you? Come over here and help me!"

He turned his head, spotting Hossam waving at him with a broad grin.

Hossam stood by his truck, a pile of boxes stacked neatly beside him. "Perfect timing, my friend," he said as Tobi approached. "You've got strong arms, don't you?"

"What do you want, Hossam?" Tobi asked, folding his arms.

"Help me load these boxes. I'll make it worth your while," Hossam replied.

Tobi sighed but stepped closer, eyeing the boxes. "What's in them, anyway?"

"Just supplies," Hossam said with a sly smile.

"Supplies for what?"

"For my business, of course. What else?" Hossam avoided eye contact as he hoisted one of the smaller boxes into the truck.

Tobi raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. He grabbed a box, grunting under its weight.

"These are heavier than they look," he muttered.

"That's because they're valuable," Hossam said, slapping the side of the truck.

They worked in silence for a while, the only sounds being the creak of the truck's suspension and the muffled hum of the market behind them.

"So, what brings you to this part of the slums?" Hossam asked as they loaded the final box.

"Friend told me to come this way," Tobi replied.

"Friend, huh? Always giving you mysterious orders." Hossam chuckled. "What's it like having a voice in your head bossing you around all the time?"

"It's not as fun as it sounds," Tobi said dryly.

Hossam leaned against the truck, wiping sweat from his brow. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm glad you showed up. Saved me a lot of time."

"Is that all you needed?" Tobi asked, brushing dust from his hands.

Hossam hesitated for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. He tossed it to Tobi, who caught it instinctively.

"What's this?"

"Payment for your trouble," Hossam said.

Tobi opened the pouch to find a handful of stones inside. His eyes widened in surprise. "This is… too much."

"Consider it an investment," Hossam said with a wink.

"An investment in what?"

"In you, of course. I've got a feeling you'll pay me back one day—not with stone points, but with something bigger."

Tobi stared at him, confused but not entirely ungrateful. He slipped the pouch into his pocket.

"Well, thanks," he said.

"Don't mention it," Hossam replied, climbing into the driver's seat of the truck. "See you around, Tobi."

The engine roared to life, and Hossam drove off, leaving Tobi standing in the street. He glanced down at the pouch in his hand, then up at the fading silhouette of the truck.

"What was that about?" he muttered to himself.

"Don't worry about it," Friend's voice chimed in. "Just keep moving forward."

Tobi sighed and started walking, the pouch of stone points feeling both heavier and lighter in his pocket.

Suddenly He stopped, He looked back at the fading silhouette of the truck. Without hesitation, he took off at full speed, shouting, 

"WAIT STOP!"

"WAIT STOP"

It wasn't long before he managed to catch up. The truck came to a halt, and Hossam jumped out.