Chapter 6 — The Mask
I didn't hesitate.
Hesitation was for people who believed rules mattered.
Back home, the garage lights flicked on as I stepped inside. The door shut behind me with a dull click that sounded final in a way I appreciated. The world outside could scream, panic, call authorities—none of that changed my internal state.
I walked to the workbench.
The ski mask sat there, black fabric absorbing the light like it didn't want to be noticed. I hadn't bought it for symbolism. I hadn't bought it for intimidation.
I bought it for separation.
Jake the employee was finished.
Jake the civilian was irrelevant.
Masks weren't about hiding your face.
They were about discarding identity.
I pulled it on.
The fabric pressed against my skin, warm, tight, anonymous. When I looked at my reflection in the scratched metal cabinet, there was no recognition.
Good.
The First Store
I didn't feel excitement as I stepped back into the night.
No rush.
No thrill.
Just intent.
The drone remained with me—not aggressive, not eager, simply present. A tool doesn't crave purpose. It waits for it.
The first place was small. Quiet. Familiar in the way all commercial spaces were—bright lights, predictable layouts, fragile confidence.
The interaction was brief.
There was shouting.
Confusion.
Compliance.
I registered none of it emotionally.
I took what I needed and left.
Not because I was cruel.
Not because I was desperate.
Because I had calculated that money was a resource, and resources were required.
That was all.
Patterns Emerge
After the second store, I stopped thinking of them as individual events.
They blurred into a sequence.
Different faces.
Same reactions.
Same fear.
Humans were remarkably consistent under pressure. Their voices rose. Their movements became inefficient. Their decisions narrowed until they chose the fastest path to perceived safety.
I noted this academically.
The drone adapted silently, adjusting its presence based on environmental noise and crowd density. I didn't micromanage it. I didn't need to.
We were aligned.
Each encounter ended the same way.
I arrived.
The situation collapsed.
I left.
No lingering.
No speeches.
No indulgence.
Money Has Weight
By the time I returned home, my pockets were heavy.
Not just physically.
Money wasn't freedom.
It wasn't power.
It was time.
Time to build.
Time to experiment.
Time before larger systems noticed anomalies and began correcting them.
I dumped the cash onto the workbench and stared at it.
Paper.
Ink.
Human trust condensed into rectangles.
Pathetic.
Useful.
No High, No Guilt
I waited.
I expected something—adrenaline, regret, satisfaction, paranoia.
Nothing came.
My heart rate was normal.
My thoughts were clear.
My hands were steady.
That told me everything I needed to know.
This wasn't a spiral.
This was alignment.
I wasn't becoming something else.
I was removing unnecessary constraints.
The World Responds
The response came later.
Sirens in the distance.
News alerts flickering on an old TV I hadn't unplugged yet.
Voices speculating. Repeating the same words.
"Armed individual."
"Masked suspect."
"Unidentified technology."
I watched without interest.
They were already behind.
They always were.
Systems reacted.
I acted.
That asymmetry mattered.
Reflection (If It Can Be Called That)
I removed the ski mask and set it down carefully.
Not because it was important.
Because tools deserved maintenance.
The drone hovered near the ceiling, silent, patient.
"We'll need to slow this down," I said calmly.
Not morally.
Strategically.
Patterns attracted attention. Attention attracted intervention.
And intervention was inefficient.
State Update
Identity: Fragmenting
Funds: Sufficient (temporary)
Exposure: Rapidly increasing
Drone: Operational / Adapted
Emotional state: Flatline
Decision Point
You've crossed a threshold.
From reacting… to acting.