Chapter 5: Crazy for Money

"Thanks?"

The two goons just stood there, dumbstruck.

They squinted at Benedict, who had this chill smile plastered on his face.

"Yo, is this dude for real?"

"Who cares, let's just mess him up and report back!"

Before the words even settled, one of the goons lunged at him.

He was the first to get booted away.

The other goon was about to make a move but froze.

Out of nowhere, Benedict kicked again, sending him flying too.

Then, Benedict gave them both another kick for good measure.

Handling these lowlifes didn't even need hands, just his feet did the trick.

The two goons were left crawling on the ground, searching for their teeth, blood dripping from their mouths.

They lay there, clutching their stomachs, unable to get up.

After finishing them off, Benedict dusted off his shoes all fancy-like but was breathing heavily.

He thought to himself, besides being hyper, this body was weak as hell! He was wiped out!

He definitely needed to work on his stamina!

After catching his breath, he smiled and said, "Gentlemen, thanks for your hard work."

The two goons on the ground were in agony, tears streaming down, totally confused.

They'd never seen someone who hit so hard, so fast, and yet so polite!

Benedict lit a cigarette and smiled again, "Gentlemen, could you lend me twenty cents?"

The two goons were super frustrated.

If Benedict was robbing them, he should just say so, why borrow?

One of the goons quickly pulled out ten bucks, trembling, and held it up, "Benedict, take it!"

"I only need to borrow twenty cents. If you don't have it, I'll keep kicking."

"What?"

The two goons were really frustrated.

Was Benedict really just borrowing?

They quickly rummaged through their bags.

The other goon took out twenty cents and handed it over, "Benedict, you really only need twenty cents?"

He nodded, took the money, "Thanks, man."

With that, he pocketed the money, hopped on his old motorcycle, "Please move the car."

The goon blocking his way quickly struggled to get up and moved the car.

"Thanks, man."

Benedict smiled, oozing elegance.

He was smooth, gentlemanly, like a high-roller, no doubt about it.

The goon shivered in fear, "You're welcome."

"See ya."

Benedict smiled faintly, revved the engine, and sped off.

The two goons were almost collapsing.

This crazy dude, was he nuts or just plain scary!

We never want to see him again!

With blood in their mouths and pain all over, they rode their motorcycles away.

They were actually fleeing for their lives.

Back at Elise's place, the two goons were in such a sorry state that Elise was shocked.

After hearing what happened, Elise scolded them harshly and told them to get lost!

But Elise sneered, saying that the wastrel could still fight? If he didn't pay back the $140 by tonight, she would have someone break his legs and knock out all his teeth!

At 9 AM, Benedict walked into an underground Jackpot Casino.

In 2010, these places were all over Newport City.

There were all kinds of ways to win prizes.

The easiest to operate were various slot machines, like fruit machines, Mercedes-Benz, BMW, lions, and elephants.

The previous owner of this body didn't play these; he used to gamble big in high-end clubs.

When he didn't have much money, he played poker and other games, betting higher than the market.

But the current Benedict feared nothing.

A graduate in mathematical logic, playing these games was a piece of cake.

Of course, he knew that gambling was harmful, and it was something Bella hated the most.

But finding a job? That took time.

His family urgently needed to solve some problems, and finding a job wouldn't be quick enough.

Entering the casino, he first found a Mercedes-Benz machine and sat down.

The machine was a hot spot.

Gamblers were puffing away, eyes bloodshot, clutching stacks of cash.

Wendy, the chick in charge of exchanging chips, was hustling non-stop.

The machine's lights were flashing like crazy, giving gamblers a rollercoaster of thrills and letdowns.

Benedict sat in the corner, quiet, smoking.

People around him were either cheering when they won or cursing when they lost, but he didn't give a damn.

Wendy soon noticed him.

"Hey, you playing or what? If not, don't hog the spot!"

Wendy, with her heavy makeup, wasn't exactly polite.

A middle-aged dude named Steven, smoking a Camel, had almost blown through his $2,000.

He glanced at Benedict, snorted, and mocked.

"Dressed like that, probably just here to watch. Bet he can only play with a few bucks, tops."

Others noticed Benedict and mostly looked down on him.

Benedict grinned, pulled out twenty cents, and said to Wendy, "Miss, can you exchange this for a chip?"

"Seriously? You dare to play with that?" Wendy sneered, clearly annoyed.

The whole room was stunned.

Steven laughed, cigarette dangling from his lips, "Man, I overestimated you, huh? Only got twenty cents?"

Benedict smiled and nodded, "Yep, borrowed it."

The room erupted in laughter, full of scorn.

"How broke can you be?"

"Borrowing twenty cents to gamble? Pathetic."

Benedict stayed cool, not arguing. Why stoop to their level?

He smiled again, "Miss, business is business, big or small, a customer is a customer. Please exchange this for a chip, thanks."

Wendy snorted, "Fine! First time seeing someone like you!"

Soon, Wendy handed him a chip.

What happened next was nuts.

Benedict just sat there, smoking his cheap cigarettes, smiling, watching everyone play.

Wendy was itching to call security to toss him out.

Before long, a new round was about to start.

Wendy couldn't hold it in, "If you don't bet, I'm having you thrown out!"

Steven had just hit a Mercedes E, 88 times, betting 100 points, which was 100 chips, netting $1,600, super pumped.

Now, he placed several bets on a BMW 5, 66 times 200 points, thinking if he hit, he'd break even.

He also placed some bets on other models.

Others were either betting on BMWs or other cars.

Benedict made his move.

1 point, bet on a Mercedes S, 1 to 188 times.

The whole room was floored.

Steven shouted, "Are you nuts? A Mercedes E just came out, and you're betting on a Mercedes S? You're crazy!"

"Yeah, he's lost it."

"Man, today I met someone who wants to get rich with just twenty cents."

Wendy also found it hilarious, "If you hit, my commission today is $60, I'll give it all to you!"

Benedict nodded, "Miss, everyone heard that, keep your word, okay?"

"Okay!" Wendy, young and fiery, agreed.

Steven laughed, "Alright, we'll all be witnesses. But if you don't hit, shouldn't Wendy get something?"

Benedict tugged at his coat collar, "This half-wool blend, barely worth $40. Wendy, if you have a dog, you can use it as a dog bed."

"Ugh! Who wants your raggedy coat? If you don't hit, get lost, you're annoying!" Wendy was really ticked off.

Benedict smiled, still smooth, "Thanks, Wendy, for your generosity."

"Don't wanna waste words with you! Anyone else betting? Starting now!"

With that shout, no one else placed bets.

Steven said, "Wendy, start! This round, I'm sure to win."

Wendy hit the button in front of her.

The screen's countdown: 3, 2, 1, 0!

Engine roars filled the room, the sound effects were killer.

The prize lights were going wild on the screen.

Mercedes, BMW, speeding up, speeding up!

Slowing down, slowing down.

A car horn blared, suddenly stopping!

Mercedes S!