Work was dull.
Not frustrating. Not humiliating.
Just… inefficient.
The register beeped every time I scanned an item, a sharp, repetitive sound that drilled into my skull like a metronome set by someone who hated silence. Candy bars. Soda bottles. Cigarettes. Lottery tickets. The same meaningless transactions repeating themselves in slightly different combinations.
Normal people called this "earning a living."
I called it data collection.
Customers came in waves. Early evening rush, then a lull, then another trickle as night deepened. I watched them all with detached interest, hands moving automatically as I rang up purchases.
A middle-aged man complained about prices.
A teenager pretended not to steal gum.
A woman asked if the milk was fresh.
They spoke to me like I was part of the furniture.
I responded politely enough to pass.
Inside my pocket, the drone remained dormant, its systems idling at the lowest possible output. To anyone watching, I was just another bored employee leaning slightly on the counter.
Perfect camouflage.
Normal People, Normal Patterns
An hour passed. Then another.
I started predicting customers before they spoke.
—Lottery guy would hesitate, then buy the same numbers.
—Energy drink guy would avoid eye contact.
—Couple arguing quietly would split at the register and pretend nothing was wrong.
Human behavior was repetitive when fear wasn't involved.
I noted it all mentally, not because it mattered, but because my mind refused to stop analyzing.
The manager stayed in the back most of the time, emerging only to refill his coffee or glare at the security monitor. He trusted me already. That amused me.
Trust was always given too cheaply.
The Shift Settles
By ten-thirty, the store was quiet.
One customer at a time. Sometimes none. The hum of the refrigerator units filled the empty spaces between footsteps. Outside, the streetlights cast pale reflections on the glass windows.
I stood behind the counter, hands resting lightly on the surface.
I wasn't tired.
I wasn't bored.
I was waiting.
Not for danger.
Not for excitement.
Just… waiting.
The Last Normal Customer
A man walked in a few minutes before eleven.
Late twenties. Hood up. Hands in pockets.
Nothing immediately alarming.
He grabbed a bottle of water and a snack bar, set them on the counter, and avoided my eyes.
"Total's on the screen," I said.
He paid in cash.
I handed him his change.
As he turned to leave, he paused for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
I noticed.
He left anyway.
The door closed.
The bell rang.
Normal.
The Store Empties
Minutes passed with no customers.
The manager stepped out of the back room.
"I'm taking a smoke," he said. "Don't lock the door."
I nodded.
He left through the side exit.
The store was empty now.
Just me.
The lights.
The quiet.
Inside my pocket, the drone's sensors adjusted automatically to the change in environment. No alert. No concern.
I leaned back slightly and exhaled.
That was when the door opened again.
This Time Is Different
Two people entered.
Not rushing.
Not loud.
But they didn't browse.
They walked straight toward the counter.
I straightened slightly, eyes lifting to meet theirs.
One was the man from earlier.
The other I didn't recognize.
Their body language had changed.
Subtle, but obvious to me.
The first man smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"Hey," he said casually. "We're gonna need what you've got on you."
Not the register.
Not the store.
Me.
I looked at him calmly.
"What I've got?" I asked.
The second man gestured downward, briefly revealing the outline of something beneath his jacket. I didn't focus on what it was. It wasn't relevant yet.
"Wallet. Phone," the first one said. "Nice and easy."
Behind them, the store remained empty.
The door stayed unlocked.
The cameras hummed softly overhead.
I didn't feel threatened.
I didn't feel angry.
I felt… interested.
This was different from a store robbery. This was personal. A small-scale predator testing what it thought was prey.
They had made an assumption.
That assumption was incorrect.
Internal State: Jake
No fear response detected.
No emotional spike.
No urgency.
Just observation.
They stood close now. Too close. The smell of cheap cologne and sweat reached me. Their breathing was shallow. Their confidence artificial.
I could feel the drone against my ribs, perfectly still.
Waiting.
Stillness
I didn't move.
Didn't reach for my pocket.
Didn't argue.
Didn't comply.
The first man's smile faded.
"Don't make this difficult," he said.
His voice was less steady now.
I tilted my head slightly.
"Why?" I asked.
That wasn't the response he expected.
The second man shifted his weight. Nervous. Ready to escalate.
Interesting.
The Moment Freezes
The store lights flickered faintly.
Somewhere outside, a car passed.
Inside, time stretched—not because it slowed, but because my mind cataloged everything at once.
Their positions.
Distances.
Angles.
Variables.
Not planning.
Just… noting.
Inside my pocket, the drone pulsed once.
Not an alert.
A query.
Decision Point
They were waiting for me to react like a normal person.
I wasn't one.
And this was the first moment in my new life where I was the target.
Not the store.
Not the manager.
Me.
I didn't answer them.
I didn't move my hands.
I didn't reach for my wallet.
I didn't react like prey.
I simply decided.
That was the moment everything changed.
Inside my pocket, the drone stopped waiting.
There was no dramatic announcement. No warning sound. No hesitation. The fabric of my hoodie shifted slightly as something precise and deliberate unfolded.
Then—
Motion.
Fast. Clean. Controlled.
The drone exited my pocket in a blur, its presence filling the air between us like a sudden correction to reality. The men barely had time to register confusion before the situation collapsed around them.
One second they were confident.
The next, they weren't standing anymore.
They went down hard—bodies hitting the floor in uncoordinated, graceless ways. Shock registered on their faces after the fact, too late to matter. Whatever plan they had walked in with dissolved instantly.
Silence followed.
Not the loud kind.
The stunned kind.
Aftermath
The drone hovered calmly in front of me, steady and precise, its lights dimmed to a neutral state. It didn't pursue. Didn't escalate. It had completed the task I gave it.
I looked down at the two men on the floor.
They weren't moving.
Not dead.
Just… removed from relevance.
I felt nothing.
No satisfaction.
No anger.
No triumph.
Just confirmation.
The system works.
The Store Reacts
The door burst open.
The manager rushed back inside, cigarette forgotten, eyes wide as he took in the scene.
"What the—WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!"
His voice cracked.
I turned slowly to face him.
"They attempted to rob me," I said flatly.
His gaze snapped between me, the bodies, and the hovering machine beside my shoulder.
"What… what IS that?"
I followed his eyes to the drone.
"A personal device," I replied.
That was the most honest answer he was going to get.
Noise Returns
Someone screamed outside.
A car slowed down.
Then another.
The world rushed back in all at once, messy and loud, as if it had briefly paused and now needed to make up for lost time.
I stepped back from the counter.
The drone adjusted its position, staying close but unobtrusive.
I didn't look at the robbers again.
They were finished variables.
Internal State: Jake
No shaking hands.
No racing heart.
No delayed emotional response.
Just clarity.
This wasn't an act of fear.
It wasn't self-defense in the emotional sense.
It was a correction.
They tested a system.
The system responded.
Consequences Begin
The manager backed away slowly, eyes never leaving the drone.
"You… you need to leave," he said. "Right now. I'll— I'll handle this."
I nodded.
That was reasonable.
I didn't argue.
Didn't explain.
Didn't justify.
I turned and walked toward the door.
The drone followed, silent as a thought.
Outside
The night air felt unchanged.
Too unchanged.
Sirens echoed somewhere in the distance—not close yet, but coming. They always came eventually. That was how systems worked.
I didn't rush.
I walked.
People stared.
Someone shouted questions.
I ignored them all.
By the time I turned the corner, the store was already becoming someone else's problem.
Reflection
As I headed home, hands in my pockets, the drone slipped back into place against my ribs, warm from recent activity.
My first shift was over.
I had earned very little money.
But I had learned something far more valuable.
This world responded to force more honestly than it did to rules.
And I was very good at force.
Game State Update
Job: Lost
Money: Still low
Exposure: Rising
Drone: Tested successfully
Mental state: Stable