Chapter 6: The Battle App Hustle

You know what's worse than getting roasted by the entire school?

Getting replaced.

The homework hustle? Dead.

Dead like a Nokia with no charger.

It took less than a day for everyone to figure out they could just download their own AI apps.

My clients? Gone.

My profits? Flatlined.

My dignity? Still missing.

I groaned into my pillow.

"Okay, ChatGPT. We need something nobody can copy. Something addictive. Something dangerous."

ChatGPT: What if you build a game?

I sat up. "A game?"

ChatGPT: Yeah. A simple, old-school fighting game. Two players. One winner. But here's the twist: they stake real money before each match. Winner takes the pot. You get a cut from every battle.

I blinked.

That… was actually brilliant.

"Can you help me build it?"

ChatGPT: Step by step. Let's start now.

Three hours later, I had it.

Fight Club 2.0.

A basic, school-themed battle game with retro graphics, two-player mode, and a built-in betting system.

Students could log in, stake their coins, and fight head-to-head using custom avatars.

The winner got the pot.

I got a sweet commission from every battle.

Everybody wins. Mostly me.

I started small.

Kwame was my first victim.

He picked his avatar—a version of himself with spiky hair and oversized gloves. I picked mine—a little dude with a broken backpack and zero defense.

"Bro, you're finished," Kwame grinned, smashing his attack button.

I lost.

I still made a commission.

I still grinned.

It wasn't about winning.

It was about getting paid.

By lunch, the game had spread.

Javier was sweating over his screen. "Yo, this is intense! Kwame, you ready for a rematch? I just raised the stakes!"

"Let's go! I need my five dollars back!"

They slapped coins onto the table like we were in a street market.

Battle after battle.

Money flying.

The app buzzing.

And then… Zoey showed up.

"You built a battle app?" she asked, sliding into the seat next to me like she owned the place.

"Yeah, but keep it lowkey—"

Too late.

Her TikTok was already uploading.

Caption:

POV: The secret school fight app where the winner takes the bag 💰🔥 #SchoolFightClub

By the end of the day, every gamer, hustler, and bored student was on the app.

Some even started trash-talking each other in the hallways.

"Meet me in the app after school, Kwame. You're finished."

"Bet your snack money, bro. I'll wipe the floor with you."

The best part?

I never had to touch the money.

The app handled everything.

Students placed their stakes, the system held the pot, the winner's balance got updated instantly, and my commission slid straight into my account like butter on hot bread.

And the avatars?

The avatars were legendary.

Kwame's looked like a mini sumo wrestler with flaming shoes.

Javier's had laser eyes and a frohawk.

Zoey's was basically her, but taller—with a frying pan as her weapon.

The game became school culture overnight.

By Friday, there was a leaderboard.

By Monday, students were skipping recess just to grind their rank.

My phone buzzed every five minutes.

New bets.

New fights.

New commissions.

I was making more money than I knew what to do with.

Until I got a message.

Unknown: Is this the Fight Club 2.0 guy?

Me: Depends who's asking.

Unknown: Sarah. Just signed up. Ready to battle? I just bet you 10 dollars you can't beat me.

My heart folded like cheap paper.

If I said no, I'd look soft.

If I said yes, I'd risk getting embarrassed in front of half the school.

I sighed and typed.

Me: You're on.

My phone buzzed again.

ChatGPT: Need any fight tips?

"Yeah. Tip number one: how do I not lose to my crush in front of the entire leaderboard?"

ChatGPT: Tip number two: start praying now.

I stared at the screen, wondering how my tiny side hustle had turned into the most dangerous social battleground in the school.

One wrong move, and I'd lose more than my coins.

I'd lose my pride.

And maybe… I'd lose to Sarah on purpose.

But that's a problem for tomorrow.