After the fight, my mind briefly wandered to what this skill really looked like in action, but there was no time for testing it now.
The robber was moaning on the floor, clutching his face where my punch had connected. I had to make sure he was neutralized before anything else. My eyes scanned the store until I spotted a roll of industrial-strength duct tape on a shelf behind the counter.
Moving with a purpose that felt both foreign and instinctively right, I grabbed it and worked efficiently, binding his ankles together first, then pulling his wrists behind his back and securing them tightly. He was done. No longer a threat to us, to Maya, or to anyone.
Only then did I allow myself to turn to Maya.
She was a complete mess, and my heart broke for her. Tears streamed down her face in continuous lines, cutting tracks on her face. Her breaths came in ragged, hiccupping sobs that shook her entire frame. The thin strap of her lavender camisole had slipped down her shoulder, and she didn't even seem to notice or care. But was I a creep for noticing that she still looked freaking hot, even like this?
Nah. I was just a normal guy.
I approached her slowly, carefully, like one would approach a spooked animal.
"Hey," I said, my voice rough and gravelly from all the yelling. "Maya, look at me. It's over. He's done. You're safe now, I promise. You're safe."
She didn't say a word. She just launched herself forward, collapsing against me with the full weight of her terror and relief. She wrapped her arms around my neck with a strength that kinda surprised me, burying her face in the crook of my neck and shoulder.
She held onto me like I was the only solid thing in a world that had just dissolved into violence and chaos. Her whole body trembled against mine, each sob a silent vibration that I could feel reverberating through my chest.
I held her tightly, protectively. One hand splayed across the warm, bare skin of her back where her camisole had ridden up. The other gently stroked her hair, which smelled impossibly of coconut and coffee despite everything that had just happened. I could feel the soft, incredible warmth of her body through the thin silk of her top. The sensation was a bizarre and almost funny contrast to the brutality of the fight that had just occurred.
It was the most confusing, intense moment of my life. I was terrified and exhilarated simultaneously. My body ached everywhere—my jaw, my ribs, my knuckles—and yet I was painfully, vividly aware of every curve of her body pressed against mine. It was a profound, grounding pleasure that slowly began to overshadow the lingering terror of the last few minutes. She was soft, and warm, and real, and she was holding onto me for safety.
Me!! Of all people, she was holding onto me.
During this time, while I held her and whispered soothing words I didn't even remember choosing, I set my eyes on something peculiar. A bar had appeared above Maya's head, a progress bar, and boy, was I making progress. Just from this heroic stunt, from saving her life, I was up thirty percent. Obviously, Maya wouldn't just up and give me her goodies. I wasn't delusional. But I could see it in the near future now, shimmering like a possibility that had never existed before.
She would be my first lover. The first member of my harem. She had started this journey with me, had been there at the very beginning, and I would take her as high as I went. At least, that was the plan forming in my mind.
We stayed like that for a long time, until her violent sobs slowly subsided into shaky, hitching breaths and then finally into an exhausted silence. I found my phone with one hand while my other arm remained wrapped around her and called the police.
My voice was surprisingly steady as I reported the robbery and shooting, giving them the address and details. I was even impressed with myself by the way I had handled everything, from the fight to this moment.
The next hour was a complete blur of flashing red and blue lights, uniformed officers asking questions, and repetitive statements. The robber was cut free from my duct tape bonds and dragged away in handcuffs, still sniffling and complaining.
A kind female officer with sympathetic eyes draped a thick, grey blanket over Maya's shoulders and spoke to her in soft, reassuring tones. Through it all, Maya never went far from my side. Her hand often found mine, seeking an anchor in the chaos, and I gave it to her gladly.
When the last police car finally drove away, the first hints of dawn were painting the sky a soft, bruised grey and pink outside the shattered door. The adrenaline crash hit me like a loose train barreling down the tracks. Every muscle in my body ached with a deep, bone-tired pain. My jaw throbbed where the robber had clipped me. My knuckles were swollen, purple, and caked with dried blood that had turned brown and crusty. My entire body was one giant complaint, screaming for rest.
But none of that mattered, not really.
Because as the sun began to properly light the room, casting long shadows across the destroyed store, my phone buzzed in my pocket with that distinctive double-vibration that meant notifications.
I pulled it out carefully, making sure not to wake Maya, who had finally, completely exhausted, fallen into a deep sleep on the couch in the back room. I had carried her there myself when her eyes had started closing, and she hadn't stirred since.
I looked at the screen and saw two new bank alerts waiting for me.
Alert: $50,000.00 has been deposited into your account.
Alert: $100,000.00 has been deposited into your account.
Current Balance: $150,387.12
I stared at the number until my vision blurred. I stared until the digits seemed to swim on the screen. Banks would usually flag such an abrupt transfer, questioning its legitimacy, so how had the system done it? How had it bypassed all those security measures? I closed the banking app and opened it again, just to see if this was some kind of glitch or hallucination brought on by adrenaline and exhaustion.
But the number was still there, solid and real. Not exactly solid, but they were there.
One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It was real. The fight, the system, the money—it was all devastatingly, wonderfully, impossibly real. So these stories on writing platforms weren't just myths or fantasies. There were actually systems out there that could take a person from zero to hero, from nobody to somebody, and I had just received mine; I had been chosen.
I was so excited, you know that excitement that makes you jump, shake, or perform a stupid dance like you were still a child? That's the one I felt.
A fierce, triumphant smile spread across my face, stretching the cut on my cheek. It stung sharply, but I welcomed the pain. I welcomed all of it; that was the proof that I was alive, that this was happening.
I looked at my busted knuckles, purple and swollen. I looked at the sleeping girl who trusted me enough to hold my hand through a police interrogation and who had clung to me like I was her salvation.
Lame, low self-esteemed me.
I looked at the life-changing number glowing on that screen in the early morning light.
My old life was a smoking, dead crater behind me now. Ash and ruins.
I had a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I had a system in my head full of secrets to unlock and powers to discover. And I had a score to settle with that bitch of an ex-girlfriend who had tried to destroy me.
But first things first.
It was time to go quit my job. The job that had overworked me and underpaid me for years. The job, whose most important contract had been the final excuse for Elise to betray me, to try and destroy everything I'd built.
I was going to enjoy this immensely.