Chapter 12: Trials in the Alley
Peterson Joseph didn't feel ready. But readiness was a luxury he couldn't afford. When Jean-Daniel slapped the back of his head at dawn and whispered, "Today's the first gig," his stomach dropped. Not because he was afraid, but because some part of him—deep down—was excited.
They met in the abandoned lot behind the hardware store, where stray cats fought over scraps and old tires sat stacked like totems. The early morning haze hadn't yet burned off, and the city's usual noise felt hushed.
Serge, the middleman who delivered jobs for one of the smaller gangs in the area, leaned against a rusted motorcycle. He had a cigarette hanging off his lip and a tattered notebook in his hand. His eyes scanned them quickly.
"You two look like schoolboys," he muttered.
"We are," Jean-Daniel said.
Peterson stayed quiet, his hoodie pulled up, medallion warm against his chest.
Serge tossed them two small knotted bags. "Deliver this to the yellow house on Rue Lalo. Do not open it. Don't talk to anyone. If you see a patrol, don't freeze—run. They stop you, you forget my name. Got it?"
Jean-Daniel nodded. "Got it."
Peterson just stared at the bag in his hands. It was lighter than he expected, but the weight of it felt enormous.
They didn't ask questions.
The streets of Cap-Haïtien felt different when you were doing something illegal. Every corner became a potential trap. Every person a suspect. Jean-Daniel kept glancing over his shoulder, while Peterson tried to act normal, pretending they were just two kids on their way to school.
But the first tail came three blocks in.
"Behind us," Peterson muttered.
Jean-Daniel glanced sideways. A man with a limp and mirrored sunglasses was pretending to look at tomatoes, but he kept shifting when they did.
"I see him," Jean-Daniel said under his breath. "What now?"
Peterson's fingers brushed the medallion. The voice had been quiet all morning, but he could feel it—like a heartbeat in sync with his own.
"We need to lose him."
They turned sharply into a narrower street, one lined with laundry hanging on makeshift lines. The smell of soap and frying oil filled the air.
"Act casual," Jean-Daniel said.
They passed two old women arguing about prices and ducked into an alley that ran behind a row of half-collapsed houses. Then they ran.
Trash bags flew. Chickens scattered. A dog barked and chased them for half a block.
"Shortcut!" Peterson pointed.
They skidded around a corner and faced a tall chain-link fence, bent inward and covered in graffiti.
"You ever climb one of these?" Jean-Daniel asked.
Peterson didn't answer. He tapped his medallion.
"Summon: Skeleton Minion."
A brief shimmer appeared beside them. Then a three-foot-tall skeleton materialized. It had an oversized skull, one leg shorter than the other, and wore tiny denim shorts.
Jean-Daniel blinked. "You summoned a bone dwarf."
"I… didn't choose the outfit."
The skeleton squeaked and pulled a rusty crowbar from its back.
It waddled toward the gate and jammed the crowbar into the links.
With a groan and a crack, the fence popped loose. The boys squeezed through.
Behind them, the tail cursed loudly. They didn't wait to see how close he was.
On the other side, they stumbled into an open lot filled with rusted cars and overgrown weeds.
Jean-Daniel panted. "You know your creepy little friend's useful."
Peterson nodded. "Not bad for Level One."
They moved fast now, ducking behind dumpsters, using side alleys, and finally emerged two blocks from Rue Lalo.
The yellow house stood out easily. It was chipped and peeling, but the trim had been repainted bright blue. A curtain twitched as they approached.
Jean-Daniel knocked twice, waited, then once more.
The door opened slightly, and a woman peeked through. She looked no older than thirty, eyes sharp.
"You're late."
"We had company," Jean-Daniel replied.
She opened the door fully and motioned them inside. "Hurry."
They dropped the bags onto a low table in the living room. A TV played cartoons in the background. A little boy watched them silently from the corner.
"Tell Serge it's done," the woman said.
And that was it.
No payment. No thanks. Just out the door.
As they walked away, Jean-Daniel muttered, "That kid was watching like he knew our secrets."
Peterson nodded. "Maybe he did."
They stopped in an abandoned bus stop two blocks away, catching their breath.
Then it happened.
[+40 XP for successful delivery]
[New passive unlocked: Shadow Step (Lv1)] – Slightly quieter movement in dark areas.
Peterson grinned.
"I got something," he said.
Jean-Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Like… more bone dwarves?"
"No—stealth. Better movement in shadows."
Jean-Daniel sighed. "I want powers, too. I can't keep punching everyone forever."
"You'll get your turn," Peterson said.
The medallion pulsed gently.
A whisper echoed in his mind:
"You walked the alley and came back whole. The path opens wider now…"
Peterson didn't respond.
But he could feel it—another level waiting to be earned.
That evening, they met up again behind the school gym, where the broken benches offered enough cover for their quiet conversations.
Wilkens joined them, breathing heavily, a soda in one hand and a notepad in the other. "Why do I feel like I missed something?"
Peterson and Jean-Daniel shared a glance.
"Because you did," Jean-Daniel said.
"We were chased by a guy with a limp, scaled a fence with a crowbar-wielding skeleton in Daisy Dukes, and almost got caught delivering what might've been powdered doom," Peterson added casually.
Wilkens blinked. "That's oddly specific."
"I take notes," Peterson grinned.
Jean-Daniel cracked his knuckles. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of this system stuff. I mean, I don't have it yet, but watching you use it gives me ideas."
Wilkens frowned. "You guys keep talking about this like it's a video game."
Peterson pulled his hoodie tighter. "That's not far off."
The medallion buzzed again.
[Level Up: Player Level 2 → Level 3]
[New System Feature Unlocked: Inventory (Basic)]
A transparent box opened in front of Peterson's eyes, showing a grid with three empty slots.
"Whoa…"
"What now?" Jean-Daniel leaned in.
"I got inventory," Peterson whispered. "I can store things now. Maybe gear… or snacks."
Jean-Daniel laughed. "Your power's evolving and your first thought is snacks?"
"Hey. Energy is everything."
As the sun set, they returned home. Peterson passed his mom stirring a pot of beans. She glanced up briefly but didn't say much.
That night, he laid the medallion beside him on the pillow. The whispers came soft but steady, like a friend just outside his dreams.
"You're stepping into the path now. You are the key and the door…"
He closed his eyes. For now, he'd earned sleep.
End of Chapter 12