Chapter 138: The Big Client
"Are you sure?"
Charlie frowned, studying the young man carefully.
Hmm, a well-tailored suit, high-quality fabric, and judging by the fit, probably custom-made. Maybe this guy really was a lost rich kid.
If he could help him out, he'd earn five hundred bucks—a completely unexpected windfall.
As for the two men approaching behind him, even if they were debt collectors, he was confident he could take them both and make his escape. To be honest, he'd pulled that move plenty of times before.
"Charlie, relax!" The young man stepped closer, and seeing Charlie's defensive stance, immediately raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Easy now."
"What do you want?"
"Do you remember Caroline Farrow?" the man asked.
"She's my ex-girlfriend." Charlie lowered his fists. Hearing that name after so many years, he knew the man wasn't lying—at least he wasn't here about money.
"I haven't seen her in over ten years. What does she want?" It seemed his ex-girlfriend hadn't left him with many fond memories.
"She passed away," one of the two men interjected. "Do you remember Max?"
"Uh," Charlie hesitated before replying, "He's my son. He should be... nine years old now..." He trailed off uncertainly.
"Eleven," one of them corrected.
"Right, eleven," Charlie nodded, then took a deep breath and asked, "Is he dead too?"
"No, he's perfectly fine. That's why we're here."
After a brief exchange with Charlie about custody arrangements, the two men departed.
"Need a ride?" Charlie turned to the young stranger leaning against his truck, unwrapping a lollipop.
"Sure," the youth nodded agreeably.
"Two hundred dollars," Charlie stated, looking quite opportunistic.
"Deal."
Charlie raised an eyebrow, surprised at how easy that was. Was this kid really that loaded?
But then the youth pulled out his phone. "Make it three hundred, and I want a photo."
"You're a fan?" Charlie's lips curled into a smile. Meeting a fan was always exciting, no matter where you were.
"To be precise, I'm a fan of your boxing career," the young man clarified with a knowing grin.
"My boxing days?" Charlie tilted his head thoughtfully. "That was a long time ago."
Soon, the two climbed into the massive truck and drove off.
The rush was because Charlie had no intention of paying Ricky what he owed.
"You know about me?" Charlie had one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding a cigarette.
"Charlie Kenton," the passenger nodded. "A few years back you were a boxer. Now you make a living in robot fighting, but... not doing so well."
"Tch," Charlie exhaled smoke irritably out the window, but he didn't refute it because it was the truth.
"And you? How'd you end up lost in this backwater town?"
"My name is Jake," the youth said, working the lollipop in his mouth. "Lost is about right—I woke up here this morning. I really like robots, so I wanted to chat with you and hitch a ride."
"Two hundred bucks for a ride, heh," Charlie chuckled, clearly pleased he already had the cash in hand.
"And a photo."
Charlie decided not to dwell on that topic, and the cab fell silent for a moment.
After a while, the restless Charlie asked, "Why would a grown man eat candy?"
"Hmm?" Jake was clearly surprised by the random question. "Probably because I need something in my mouth. Helps me think."
"Why not try smoking?" Charlie pulled out a cigarette and offered it. "Men have to grow up sometime, and cigarettes and booze are the best companions."
"Got a headache right now?"
"Always," Jake admitted.
"Eating candy when you're thinking?"
Though Jake didn't respond verbally, Charlie found his answer in those dark eyes.
"If you smoke when you're stressed or need to think, I guarantee the nicotine will help clear your head."
"I'm not really a smoker—"
But he didn't resist for long. Faced with his interest in Charlie's expertise, a cigarette was placed in his mouth and lit.
The first inhale—the acrid smoke from burning tobacco was drawn in, swallowed down his throat, passed through his windpipe, circled in his lungs, and then rushed back out.
"Cough, cough," he coughed twice, clearly uncomfortable.
"How's it feel, kid?"
"Too harsh," he complained.
"Haha, you'll get used to it!" Charlie slapped him on the shoulder and lit another cigarette for himself.
The cab was soon filled with smoke.
There are many ways for people to bond—kids might share candy and toys, women might share clothes and shopping trips, and men might share cigarettes and drinks.
A seasoned smoker and a novice managed to chat for quite a while over that short journey.
"WHAT! You want to buy a large number of robots?"
"That's right. Is that a problem?"
"I'm not trying to be rude here, kid," Charlie said, patting the young man on the shoulder, "but that Ambush back there, which is already trashed, isn't something just anyone can afford. A working one costs at least tens of thousands of dollars!"
"What about yours?"
Faced with that question, Charlie's weathered face, half-hidden behind cigarette smoke, couldn't help but flush with embarrassment. "Well, maybe a thousand bucks in parts, but a brand new one is definitely worth that price!"
"The price is acceptable," Jake nodded. "Do you have connections to buy them?"
"What do you want them for? Starting your own robot fighting league?"
"No," he shook his head. "I'm interested in their durable construction, powerful combat capabilities, and work efficiency."
Charlie nodded, sensing this might be a lucrative opportunity. If he could broker the deal and earn a commission or markup, it would more than make up for his losses with Ambush.
Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, Charlie asked casually, "So, how many are we talking about?"
"About a hundred."
"Oh, I see..." Charlie, who'd been wearing an "I figured as much" expression, suddenly did a double-take and started coughing violently. "How many did you say?!"
His voice was loud enough to be heard over the highway noise.
"About a hundred."
"Hahaha, kid!" He suddenly let go of the steering wheel and grabbed Jake in a bear hug, pounding his back enthusiastically. "I know a factory that manufactures these things! Tell me what kind you want and I'll get them for you!"
This was definitely a whale of a client!
"Can you customize them?"
"Absolutely!" Charlie nodded emphatically.
A typical fighting robot costs anywhere from $10,000 to $30,000, depending on specifications.
In the original timeline, robots like Noisy Boy—originally a top-tier fighter but superseded by newer technology—sold for around $45,000 used. Twin Cities, a tag-team robot from the underground circuits, cost in the hundreds of thousands. And Zeus, the undefeated World Robot Boxing champion, was worth millions.
Charlie didn't expect Jake to buy the most expensive models for all hundred robots. In fact, Charlie figured the robots Jake could afford were most likely in the Ambush price range—lower-tier fighters.
But no matter which tier they were, this deal would make him a small fortune.
[A/N: In Real Steel (2011), the robot economy ranges from cheap scrap-heap fighters like Ambush (~$1,000) to elite championship bots like Zeus (multi-million dollar custom builds). Noisy Boy, the robot Charlie and Max acquire in the film, cost $45,000 used. Jake is looking to purchase construction/work models rather than pure fighters.]
[Power Stone Goal: 500 = +1 Chapter]
[Review Goal: 10 = +1 Chapter]
If you liked it, feel free to leave a review.
20+chapters ahead on P1treon Soulforger