[Hyde POV]
Eric, Kelso and Fez drove me to the airport in my Nova. Red gave me a knife, a gun, some bullets,
and money for the trip.
Mrs Forman wanted me to bring a lot of stuff, even packed me a sandwich.
But other than what fit into a small vintage style leather duffel bag I bought online, I didn't
bring anything else.
"I can't believe Brooke broke up with you." Eric said with exasperation. "Why do you seem cursed
in relationships?"
I shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe god wants me to enjoy as much woman as I can before settling
down?"
However, I had another thought. It was because the plot needed me to be single. I wasn't the guy
who got into a relationship in the show. Maybe one night stands hookups, but not a long
relationship.
"You're so lucky." Kelso snapped at me, full of jealousy.
Fez said with a smile, "Now, we can go around cruising for whores together. After you come back."
"Are you sure you're fine Hyde?" Eric asked me seriously.
I nodded and said, "Yeah. I'm actually quite fine. Unlike the last time, she didn't kiss my best friend, so…"
Kelso laughed and joked, "Well, you are leaving for a while. Who knows what will happen."
"One thing for sure is you're going to lose your van again." I muttered.
His expression fell and he said, "Fine! I won't try to get Brooke to kiss me!"
I nodded and turned to Forman, "If he did, then, I'm going to up my punishment this time."
"What are you going to do?" Eric asked fearfully.
"Hook up his balls to a car battery." I said casually.
Michael yelped, covering his crotch immediately. His voice turned meek, "I–I promise. I promise I
won't do it. So please… Please don't do that."
They left after dropping me off since the flight was near anyway. It was also already late at night.
The Chicago terminal looked more like a bus station than an airport. Fluorescent lights hummed
overhead, benches lined the walls, and a haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air.
People wandered freely near the gates, chatting and carrying luggage without a care. A crackly
intercom announced flights, but security? There was almost none.
As I checked into the flight, a random balding fat man approached me, wearing a nice suit.
I too was wearing a nice suit. I wanted to wear a sweater and jeans, but Red told me to dress up
for some reason. All of the people waiting on the flight too were dressed up.
"Hey, are you the guy from the Rev It Up Show?" he asked, face full of expectation.
"That's me." I replied easily.
"Oh. My son and I are huge fans of the show. Can you sign my magazine?" He asked politely.
"Sure. I need a pen though."
"Right– Um," he went to the receptionist and borrowed her pen. I signed my name as, 'To Jimothy.
S.Hyde, "REV IT UP".'
"Here you go," I gave the TransAm magazine back to him.
"Oh, that's amazing. We're on the same flight. Are you going to Texas too?"
"No, that's just a stop before I go to Arizona. There's no direct flight to go there." I said casually.
The man was really polite, so I felt bad if I ignored him. "Hey, let me buy you a coffee!" He said
excitedly, snapping his finger as he got the idea.
"No, I don't need coffee. I'm going to sleep on the flight." I replied and took out a bottle of decaffeinated green tea from my bag.
The receptionist was whispering as they looked in my direction. The guy finally left me alone, but
another one came.
That's what happened when I was famous regionally. Luckily in first class, there was only me and one other guy in the cabin.
The air inside was quite thick. Like someone needed to crack a window open. The problem was, I was on a plane.
I mean, I could still crack it. It was like drinking lava. You could do it, but just once.
It was a rough plane take off sequence, and once the plane was in the air, I realized the roughness
was quite normal. It wasn't as smooth as the planes back in 2025.
"Would you like some drinks sir?" A cute flight attendant, wearing a rainbow scarf around her neck,
a cap, and a short skirt offered me a scotch drink.
There was a strict beauty requirement for the flight attendant in this era. And there wasn't even a
male stewardess.
"No, not for now. Can you wake me up fifteen minutes before we land? Thanks."
I took off my jacket, wore a sleeping mask and a neck pillow. Then, I rested my eyes on the
midnight flight. There was no one next to me, so I used that as a place for my stuff.
The chair goes all the way back, and there's a footstool for resting the leg. I slept for about 3
hours, and woke up from a turbulence.
"Ugh." I groaned with frustration and woke up groggily.
As I sat up, the stewardess came to me again, "My apologies for your uncomfortable flight sir. If
there's anything I could do to make your journey better, I'm at your service."
"Huh? It's fine. It's the air change. It's not your fault." I waved her off easily.
She was taken aback, and showed a charming smile. "Should I bring some refreshment sir? Maybe a glass of wine?"
"Wine?" I was intrigued. "Sure. Let me get a glass of wine. I'm just going to freshen up a bit."
I went to the bathroom and washed my face, gargle with a mouthwash, and wiped my body with a wet tissue. I had to, since the smell in the cabin permeates.
The wine came shortly after I returned to my seat. An hour later, I was in a transfer station in
Texas, waiting for my layover.
After two more hours of flight, I finally arrived in Arizona's Phoenix Sky Harbor airport at 7 in the
morning.
The morning sun was already bright, making me squint even with my sunglasses on. I stepped off the plane, and the first thing that hit me was the dry heat.
"Here's a suggestion, you might want to wear thinner clothes." The flight attendant from the Texas
layover flight told me.
"Thank you for that advice."
I entered the airport bathroom and changed my clothes into a more comfortable attire.
A slightly oversized blue Uniqlo Airism Polo button down shirt, and Miracle Air pants that looked
like formal pants but were so airy.
It was an ideal choice for the desert climate. And because I refused to wear shorts. I took a taxi
to get to Tempe University town, where the dealership was.
"Should I check into a hotel?" I mumbled. I was still quite tired from the flight.
The people there expected me at 2 in the afternoon, so I have quite a lot of free time.
I put my luggage inside the system storage and walked around the university town instead of
checking into a hotel.
The place was near Arizona State University, so there were a lot of college students around here.
First thing first, I called Mrs Forman to tell her I had arrived to ease her concern.
I checked out a popular coffee place where a lot of students were hanging out.
Tank tops, shorts, male students showing their hairy arms, chest and legs, beaded necklace, and the
girls wore flower chokers and dressed like hippies.
I checked out the menu of the cafe, and it was quite cheap. Hell, my cafe seemed expensive compared to what they served here. Although mine tasted better.
I ordered coffee and donuts for breakfast. There were no tables open, so I thought I would need to
eat outside when a group of students called out to me.
"Hey, you in the blue shirt. You can eat here if you want. We have a spot open." A young girl in
her 20s called out to me.
"That's cool." I replied with a smirk and sat near them. They began asking me some questions
instead of letting me eat in peace.
"So where are you from?" One of the older guys, mustached, bowl cut hair, and a maroon tank top
asked me happily. He gave me Kelso's vibes from the way he moved his head around a lot.
"Wisconsin."
"Oh, what degree are you taking?" The girl who called out to me before asked again.
"I'm not a college student. I'm just here for a visit."
"Are you here to check out the University?" The man asked again teasingly. "You looked like a rich
dude, you should go to a private one."
"Eh, state school girls are sluttier." I joked.
He laughed and said, "That's cool. You're quite cool. Hey, if you don't have a place to stay, you
can crash with us."
"That's fine. I'm not staying long anyway." I said casually. "I'm leaving tonight."
We talked for a bit, and the girls told me about a free lecture in the university I could go to
pass the time.
I wasn't going to do that, so I read the newspaper to see if anyone was selling their car.
Since I was in a desert country, where there was basically no rust on the cars, I could transport
them back to Wisconsin using my system storage.
'I have 10 cars in the storage, taking up space. How can I unload them?'
The best way to do that was to pretend to be a student selling their cars to survive or pay their
college fees. I'll try to do it later once I get the Chevelle.
"Hey, if you're still here tonight. Come check out the party at my dorm." One of the girls shared
the location with me on a piece of paper.
"I'll be sure to drop by if I have some time." I replied easily.
…
That morning, I bought two cars. A 1975 Honda Civic CVCC and 1970 Ford Mustang Boss 302.
I drove the Mustang around after using build mode to fix the alternator, making things easier than
using a taxi.
I also sold one of the stolen cars to a shady dealership that didn't care much about paperwork
details, one that was recommended to me by the college guy I talked with.
I got 1200 bucks for a 2500 bucks car. It was already good enough since it was a stolen car after
all.
I made sure to fake the paperworks, and change the vin number slightly to ensure it wouldn't get
tracked back to the Jet's dealership.
Finally, I went to the dealership to get the Chevelle SS at 2 in the afternoon.
The air conditioned dealership beckoned me to come inside since the sun was searing hot.
"What can I help you with, son?" An old fashioned salesman wearing a suit approached me.
"I have called before. I'm meeting with Mr Wentworth?"
"OH!" He was shocked. "Um, alright. I'll call the boss. YOU– You just stay here!" He left
frantically.
"What's that all about?" I mumbled to myself and checked out their car collections.
The owner of the dealership was a fan of muscle cars. He has a lot of them inside the dealership.
The cars there were high in quality, and it was showcased like a show car.
Although, some of them have pretty shoddy paintwork in the 2025 standard. It was good enough for 1977, but quite shoddy there.
"That Hemi Cuda paintwork is terrible isn't it?" A voice asked me from behind as I was watching the
car from the side.
I turned and saw Mr Wentworth. A lean, middle aged man with a handsome appearance. He didn't have a beard or sideburns, wore a classic suit instead of leisure suit, and has a gold watch.
"It is quite shoddy, but I'm not going to call it terrible." I replied to him.
He laughed and said, "Good. You're an honest man. Come, I'll show you the Chevelle."
The car was parked outside on the used car lot. I checked on the car and said, "This will work
well."
"Good. Let's start the paperwork, shall we? Or…" He suddenly thought of something. "Do you mind if I offer you an opportunity?"
"Depends on what it entails." I replied easily.
He laughed and said, "I have three cars that wouldn't start. If you help me with it, I'll halve the
asking price of the Chevelle."
I thought about it and shrugged. "Sure. But I'm not going to stay long. If I can't fix it, I'll just
diagnose it. You can fix it later yourself."
"That… works for me."
He has quite trust in me since he saw the TransAm video.
Being a muscle car enthusiast, he was quite pissed off when I made the Celica beat the muscle car,
but when he saw my work on the TransAm, he realized I was a really good mechanic.
I went to check on the car in his autoshop. Using appraisal, it was easy enough for me to find out
what was wrong with the cars.
He told me they were sitting in the shop for quite a while now. I checked it one by one and listed
out the problems to him. It has quite a lot of problems. One of them even has a major engine
problem.
I managed to get one started, but it took me 2 hours without the future tools. I didn't bring any
tools with me since I had transferred everything to my workshop.
Mr Wentworth cut down the price of the Chevelle SS from 4500 dollars to only 2000 dollars. The
paperwork was done instantly as I paid with cash, and I drove the car away at sunset.
"I think I'll stay here for a day." I mumbled. "I can get the El Camino tomorrow."
I saw several car ads from personal sellers that I wanted to take a look at. I checked into a hotel, a luxurious one with a bellhop and pool since I have the money.
That only cost me 60 bucks a night, like, really cheap. Well, cheap to me, quite expensive for the
normal 70s people.
I went to the college dorm after settling down in the hotel room.
It was fun, talking about conspiracy with several other conspiracy nuts there.
When some girls realized I was staying at a luxury hotel, they wanted to come back with me, waiting to spend their night inside an air conditioned room instead of the hot dorm room.
I could've hooked up with them, but I was too tired from the travel that I rejected them. I slept
for over ten hours that night, and in the next morning, I bought two more cars, and sold two more.
After I checked out of the hotel, the concierge sent me to the airport as it was part of the hotel
service, and I flew to Vegas under the identity of Jack Winger.
"Vegas, my second hometown."
It was the place I travelled the most when I was a New York millionaire. The place seemed rougher,
Italian guys in suits were watching me from alleys as I sold my cars to several pawn shops here.
I managed to empty out the inventory as the city of gamblers didn't ask many questions. For the
stolen cars, I have made around 11 thousand dollars from selling them in various pawn shops.
"What should I do with the money other than gambling?" I muttered with a smirk and entered a
casino.
"I feel like Jon Favreau in Swinger. Lost my girlfriend, so I went to Vegas."
Chips clacking. A thousand conversations layered over each other. Laughter that sounded forced, desperate, drunk, or victorious. Sometimes all four at once.
It's a Wednesday night, but the place was alive..
The casino floor stretched out like a maze designed to keep you in there forever. No clocks. No
windows. Chandeliers hung low, casting warm light that made everyone look a little better than they really were.
"Buy in sir?" The dealer asked as I sat on the craps table. "Let's go with 5 big ones." I said
casually.
"Okay. 500 worth of chip–"
"No, I'm sorry. 5 grand." I interrupted him. Everyone at the table looked at me in shock, and
predatory eyes.
"5 grand sir?" The dealer smiled. "Okay. There's complimentary drinks for people with over 1 grand
off buy in sir. Just call the waitress if you want one."
He called the waitress with me and I said, "Scotch. Neat."
She smiled and left to bring me one. I bet on the hard 8. It has a 9:1 pay, and it almost never
happens.
I lost the first bet, second, third, fourth and fifth. The dealer was incredibly happy and said, "Do
you want to buy-in, sir?"
I lost all of my five grand. I smiled and said, "Sure. Let's go six more."
The dealer smirked, and everyone there was laughing at me. I smiled and said, "Let's do 3 grand on
hard 8 this time."
I smiled and said, "Let's do 5 grand on hard 8 this time."
I wanted to finish it early and go to the slots table. Instead, I actually won.
The dealer's face turned pale and he pushed out 40,000 worth of money in my place.
I was taken aback and said, "Well. I guess lady luck was smiling at me. I should bet more."
The dealer looked relieved. I realized some dangerous looking guy was looking in his direction. He
might get beat up if he lost a lot of money for the house.
I wanted to remove the money from my hand, yet, it kept piling up.
I lost 5, then 5, then 5, then another 5, then I won again, turning my 20,000 into 60,000. So I
increased the bet this time. to 10,000 per game. I lost 50,000.
The dealer was really happy. The house changed him with another dealer, a sleazy looking one.
"10 big ones on the hard 8 huh? You're a crazy guy." The new dealer, an Italian guy, was quite
chatty for my taste.
"Yeah. Life is crazy, so I figured; Why not?"
He rolled the dice, and he widened his eyes as the hard 8 appeared. "Um… 8 times multiplier. You
sir, won 80,000… again."
The other players murmured, gasping slightly, full of jealousy. Two beautiful women began sitting
next to me, touching my arm and conversing with me.
"You're such a lucky man, hotstuff." The blonde bimbo whispered in my ear. "Why don't you throw the dice yourself?"
"No. I'm fine." I said casually. "Why don't you throw it for me?"
Now, I got 83,000 worth of chips. "Um," the dealer asked nervously, "What are you betting on sir?"
"Snake eye."
Everyone at the table gasped in shock. "All of it?" The dealer gulped his saliva.
"I wanted to do 20, but sure. All of it is nice." I said casually. I didn't want to keep the money,
yet, it happened again.
"Snake… Snake eyes…" The dealer went pale and his legs gave out.
The blonde girl squealed and kissed me on the cheek. I froze in shock. I watched the Godfather, I
knew what the casino scene in the 70s were like.
Winning big wasn't great for me, especially since I wanted to keep it low-key. The snake eye has a
30:1 payout ratio, so I got around 2.5 million dollars.
That was huge money in the 70s.
"Um, I think I can lose the money at the poker table, right?" I said with a frozen smile.
The dealer nodded furiously, "Yes! YES YOU CAN!" He was almost begging me. He might have met a bullet today if I got away with all 2.5 million.
The casino paired me up with some high rollers. I lost a lot of money, leaving me only seven
hundred thousand after playing with the skillful people.
The casino finally let go of their eyes on me. They didn't even remember what I started with, as
long as I lost a lot of money.
Before I could cash out, the waitress there approached me and said, "Sir. The casino owner is
offering you their premium suite for the night, and free complimentary drinks and food. You're our
special guest, and if there's anything you want, just say it."
"Oh, that's cool."
I accepted the invitation casually. They'd offer something like this to make sure a 'whale' like me
would come back to their casino after a big loss.
In the 70s, especially in Vegas, there was rampant nightlife. Prostitution, drugs, and so on.
However, I just sat inside my hotel room, using their indoor jacuzzi and watched some tv.
The server knocked on the door, offering me some company. He paraded a few girls in skimpy clothes for me to pick, but I didn't want any.
Not that I was a prude, but this was a time before people figured out STD could spread through
reckless sex. I wasn't going to come back home all infected.
The next day, I cashed out the money and went to California. After 30% taxes, I got back around
530,000 dollars. That was pretty darn tooting good money.
Still, I felt pretty bad since it was dirty money. I did play with my own money and got around
75,000 dollars from 15,000 dollars cash I have in hand.
"Maybe I'll do a charity or something with half a million dollars. If I pay tax on it, there's no
issue to bring that money back to Point Place."
That would cut off another 7-9% of my winnings.
My deep thought was interrupted as someone bumped into me at the airport.
"Oh– sorry."
A clumsy blonde girl with a large hat and sunglasses. She wore an elegant, sleeveless one piece
dress with short skirt, and a pearl necklace around her neck.
"Yes. It's me."
"Huh?" I was confused.
"You kept staring at me. Yes, it is me." She said excitedly, pretending to be in a difficult
position.
"I'm just staring at your open luggage though." I said casually as I pointed at her back.
"What?" She turned and saw her bag was open, and her dresses and stuff were scattered on the ground in a long line.
"What?" She looked down and saw her dresses splayed across the floor. "Oh shit. Thank you, Sir. Will you help—DID YOU LEAVE ALREADY?! YOU JERK!"
People nearby looked at me like I'd just committed a crime, gasping or muttering, but I didn't
care. 1977 or not, I didn't owe anyone my time for being clumsy.
A lot of men went to help her since chivalry wasn't dead yet. But where I came from, it was already
dead and rotting in the ground. I ignored her and went to grab a taxi.