I needed five hundred dollars.
I looked around my apartment. I had a mattress on the floor, a cheap laptop, and a broken television. None of that was worth fifty bucks, let alone five hundred.
I got down on my hands and knees and reached far under my bed to pull out a dusty black box. I opened it. Inside was a shiny silver watch.
It was a Genesis-brand smart watch. It could track your heart rate, monitor your Blessing Points, and sync with your System Status Screen. It was top-of-the-line tech.
My parents bought it for me when I was fourteen. It was a gift for getting accepted into Metropolitan Academy.
Holding the watch made me think about that school. The campus was like a castle, the food made by private chefs.
The teachers expected us to wake up at five in the morning and run miles carrying heavy weights. We had to fight each other in the rain. They called it "building character." I called it torture.
While the other kids were sweating and breaking their bones to level up, I was hiding in the library taking naps. I didn't want to be a soldier. I just wanted to relax.
Once they expelled me. My parents were furious. They took away my credit cards and sent me to a free, regular high school.
I never wore the watch. It reminded me of all the yelling.
I closed the box and put it in my pocket. I left my apartment and walked three blocks down the street to a pawn shop.
The bell on the door jingled as I walked in. The shop was dark. A man with a thick gray beard was sitting behind a glass counter reading a magazine.
I walked up to the counter and put the box down.
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"I need to sell this," I said.
The man put his magazine down, opened the box and looked at the silver watch. His eyes went wide for a second, but he quickly hid his surprise. He picked it up and examined it.
"It's a Genesis," the man said. "But it's an old model. Nobody wears these anymore. I'll give you three hundred dollars."
I knew he was lying. That watch was worth at least two thousand dollars. It was made of reinforced steel meant to survive villain attacks.
Normally, people would argue. They would haggle and fight for a fair price. But arguing takes energy. I didn't care about getting a fair price. I just needed enough to take the test.
"I need five hundred," I said. "Give me five hundred in cash right now, and it's yours."
The man looked at me like I was crazy.
"Deal," he said quickly.
He opened his cash register, counted out five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the glass counter. I took the money, turned around, and walked out of the shop.
I walked straight to the bank on the corner. I fed the five hundred dollars into the ATM and deposited it into my account.
My phone buzzed as my bank balance went from fourteen dollars to five hundred and fourteen dollars.
I ran back to my apartment, sat down at my kitchen table and opened my laptop. The HRC website was still open.
I typed in my debit card number and clicked 'Pay'.
The screen loaded for a few seconds. Then, a big green checkmark appeared.
Payment Accepted. Your application for the Hero Licensing Exam is confirmed.
Applicant: Shay Fawn.
Testing Center: HRC Building, Downtown District.
Time: Tomorrow, 8:00 AM.
I let out a long breath. I did it. I was officially registered.
I closed the laptop and walked over to my mattress. It was already getting dark outside. I needed to wake up early tomorrow.
If I passed this test, I would get a Hero License. I could sign with a rich corporate agency, pay my rent, and never have to work a hard job again.
If I failed, I would be homeless by the weekend.
I closed my eyes.
I am not going to fail, I thought. I am too lazy to be homeless.