Chapter 1: The Devil's Bargain

Chapter 1: The Devil's Bargain

The scent of ozone and rosin-core solder hung in the air of Leo Vance’s workshop, a familiar perfume that was more comforting to him than any cologne. It was the smell of creation, of problems being methodically solved. His lean frame was hunched over a delicate chassis, the warm glow of vacuum tubes illuminating his focused features. With the precision of a surgeon, he guided a silver-thin wire to its contact point, his touch steady and sure. This vintage amplifier was his meditation, a relic of a simpler time when engineering was an art form, not just a line item on a quarterly report.

A sudden, insistent blinking from his monitor shattered the calm. He didn’t need to look. He knew the color, the font, the brutal red stamp of the subject line: FINAL NOTICE. His landlord wasn’t a patient man. The email was a digital guillotine, hanging over the small business he’d poured his life into since leaving Innovatech. It was a stark reminder that passion didn’t pay the bills, and genius was worthless without a client.

He’d been pushed out of his corporate job for being too good, too efficient. His innovations in diagnostic software had made entire service departments redundant, and in a world that profited from inefficiency, he had become a liability. Now, that same genius was trapped in this small workshop, drowning in debt.

As if summoned by his bleak thoughts, his phone buzzed, the harsh vibration skittering across a stack of schematics. An unknown number. Probably another debt collector. He almost let it go to voicemail, but some instinct made him wipe his hands on a rag and answer.

“Vance.”

The voice that replied was slick, smooth, and instantly recognizable. It was a voice that belonged in a glass-tower boardroom, a voice that dripped with condescension even when it was trying to be charming. “Leo Vance? My, my, still answering your own phone. How... quaint.”

Leo’s knuckles whitened around the phone. “Jake Sterling.”

The name tasted like acid. Jake Sterling. The quintessential corporate shark. A man who had climbed the ladder at Innovatech on the backs of engineers like Leo, taking credit for their breakthroughs and burying their careers when they became inconvenient. Now, he was the COO of Apex Dynamics, a bigger, more ruthless competitor.

“The one and only,” Jake chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Listen, I’ll cut to the chase. I know things didn’t end well between you and the old company, but I’m in a position to make you a very generous offer. We have a situation here at Apex.”

Leo remained silent, letting the pause stretch. He knew better than to speak first with a predator like Jake.

Jake’s polished demeanor cracked, just a fraction. “It’s one of yours. An Innovatech Chronos 7 Quantum Calibrator. Brand new, top of the line. And it’s a brick. A multi-million-dollar paperweight. My in-house team…” He paused, the disgust in his voice palpable. “They’re useless. They can’t even get it to initialize.”

Leo almost smiled. The Chronos 7 was his masterpiece, the culmination of his work at Innovatech. He knew its every circuit, every line of code, every undocumented backdoor he’d built in for just such an occasion. It was an elegant, impossibly complex machine, and only a handful of people in the world truly understood its soul. He was one of them.

“Innovatech has a service contract for those units,” Leo stated flatly. “Call them.”

“We did,” Jake snapped, the desperation finally bleeding through. “They can’t get a master technician out here for a week. A week, Vance! Do you have any idea what the downtime on this production line costs me per hour? This is a flagship project. I need it running by Monday morning. End of story.”

Here it was. The hook. The part where Jake Sterling, a man who saw other people as mere tools, had to admit he needed one he’d long since discarded.

“That sounds like an Apex Dynamics problem, not a Leo Vance problem,” Leo said, his voice cold. He glanced at the blinking final notice on his screen. His pride was a luxury he couldn't afford, but groveling was out of the question.

There was a sharp exhale on the other end of the line. Jake was regrouping, shifting tactics from implied authority to raw bribery. “Let’s talk numbers. This is a weekend job. Get my machine online by Monday morning, and I will personally authorize a wire transfer. Seventy thousand dollars.”

The number struck Leo like a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs. Seventy thousand. It wasn't just enough to pay the back rent. It was enough to clear all his debts, upgrade his equipment, and give him six months of breathing room. It was a lifeline. It was a fortune.

And it was coming from Jake Sterling. Which meant it was a trap.

Men like Jake didn't make generous offers. They set snares. They’d get the work out of him and then find a loophole in the contract, a pretext to dispute the payment. He’d be left with nothing but wasted time and the bitter taste of being used again.

“Why me?” Leo asked, his mind racing, cataloging every interaction he’d ever had with the man. “Innovatech has other senior techs.”

“None with your reputation,” Jake admitted, the words sounding like they were being dragged from him under duress. “The internal reports always said the same thing: ‘If Vance can’t fix it, it can’t be fixed.’ I’m paying for a guarantee, not an attempt. So, do we have a deal?”

Desire warred with bitter experience. The seventy thousand dollars pulsed in his mind, a glowing beacon of salvation. He could say no, maintain his pride, and almost certainly lose his workshop within the month. Or he could walk into the devil’s parlor, knowing full well the devil planned to cheat.

But Leo had a memory that was as much a tool as any oscilloscope in his shop. An eidetic, encyclopedic recall of every schematic he’d ever touched. He remembered the undocumented maintenance ports on the Chronos 7, the kill-switch subroutines known only to him. He wasn't the same wide-eyed engineer Jake had known. He was a freelancer now. He set his own terms.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, letting the smell of solder ground him. He was back in control.

“The money is tempting, Jake,” Leo said, his voice now devoid of any emotion. “But I don't work on promises. You will draft a simple, one-page contract. No corporate jargon. ‘Leo Vance will be paid $70,000 upon successful calibration of Chronos Calibrator Unit 77-B. Payment to be wired within one hour of completion.’ Nothing else.”

“That’s not how we—”

“That’s how I work,” Leo cut him off. “And one more thing. I want the full technical specifications, factory diagnostic logs, and the pathetic attempts at repair reports from your team sent to my encrypted email. Now. Before I even think about packing my tools.” He paused, letting the demand sink in. “If I see anything I don’t like, the deal is off. And your multi-million-dollar paperweight can keep gathering dust.”

There was a long, tense silence on the other end of the line. Leo could almost picture Jake Sterling in his corner office, his handsome face contorted in a mask of fury at being dictated to by a freelance grease monkey. The sound of a keyboard clicking furiously came through the phone.

“The contract is on its way,” Jake bit out, his voice tight with restrained rage. “Just get it done, Vance. Get it done.”

The line went dead.

A moment later, an email notification chimed. The subject line was simply: “Contract & Logs.”

Leo opened the files, his eyes scanning the data with practiced speed. The logs were a comedy of errors, a testament to corporate hubris. The contract was exactly as he’d specified, brutally simple.

He stood up and walked to his main toolbox, the heavy steel drawers sliding open with a well-oiled hiss. He began selecting his instruments, his movements precise and economical. The weariness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp glint.

The seventy thousand was a tempting bait, and he knew the hook was hidden deep inside. Jake Sterling hadn’t changed; he was simply more desperate. Leo was walking into a trap, but he had no choice. He would take the devil’s bargain. But this time, he was coming prepared to rewrite the terms.