Chapter 8: The Magical Anal Bead Incident
Outside the shattered glass entrance, something heavy hit the asphalt. Hard. The glorious, degenerate adrenaline that had been carrying me through the last ninety seconds, the heist, the unhinging of my jaw, the desperate waddle slide-slither across twenty feet of open ground just suddenly, catastrophically, drained out of me like someone pulled the plug on a bathtub.
The high from the heist died. I felt like a guy who just broke the office coffee machine and now has to explain it to his boss. All at once, all the stupid stuff I’d just done, all the running, it all hit me at once.
She saw me.
The realisation hit me like a brick to the face. Not the witty, strategic kind of thought I’d been pretending to have. The real one. The one that had been screaming underneath the whole time, muffled by the sheer volume of,
move move move move move.
She saw me. She definitely saw me. An F+ Rank. A dark elf with a glowing green bow and a face that could stop traffic and a body that could stop hearts. She saw me, and she is coming, and I am hiding inside a rusted soda machine in a ruined fast-food kitchen like a rat.
I pressed myself deeper into the metal crack. It didn’t help.
The pulsing small RGB bulges in my stomach were still glowing. Still pulsing. Still broadcasting my exact coordinates to anyone with functioning eyeballs within a thirty-foot radius. I was a literal neon sign advertising my own theft.
I’m not hidden at all. I’m a glowing red necktie with magical anal beads wedged in my stomach. I am a sentient piece of garden hose having a severe mental medical emergency behind a Coca-Cola dispenser.
She’s going to walk in here, see the rave lighting under the counter, and put an explosive arrow through my skull, and honestly? Fair.
I just robbed a professional monster killer and a radioactive, crystal-covered amethyst capybara. That’s not me. I don’t do that. I don’t do any of that. I am a professional risk avoider. A certified corporate coward. I don’t take risks. I don’t put myself in danger. I hide. That’s my entire brand. I hide, I survive, I don’t draw attention to myself, and I look for the nearest exit. I just did the exact opposite of every single rule I’ve ever lived by.
She’s coming. She’s definitely coming. She’s going to walk through that shattered glass door, look at the pulsing RGB light leaking out from behind the counter, and.
Thump.
A pair of tattered, mud-stained combat boots stepped over the threshold.
[System: Yeah, nah, look. Calm your farm, my pet, furious noodle. Even if the lady boss knows you slithered in here, she’s not getting you. What’s she gonna do, blow up a whole bloody Medons? It wouldn’t help her. She’d just bring the concrete ceiling down on her own gorgeous head. She’s probably just gonna duck her head in, have a quick squiz around, realise the bait is gone for good, and bugger off back to her day job. You’re not the weakling you used to be. You’re practically F+ Tier! So just breathe. Or... whatever it is you do. Tongue-flick. Whatever.]
I tongue-flicked.
And there she was, the rain on hot leather, I could smell the crushed pine needles, and maybe something sharp and green underneath, like a snapped fern stem, her.
She took a slow, agonising step closer. The leather of her combat boots creaked loudly against the broken tiles.
Please just go home. Please just punch out. The overtime isn’t worth it. Your supervisor is going to dock your pay anyway, I think, I hope so, I don’t care, just go away, please.
My brain was doing that thing where it forgets everything that just happened and starts making stuff up. Like, okay, she had a glowing bow. And she was chasing me. But maybe she wasn’t mad. Maybe she just really needed that mushroom. For cooking. Maybe she was a chef.
Shut up, brain! Let me cope!
The elf narrowed her emerald eyes, her gaze burning holes straight into the cracked plastic front panel of the drink machine. She took one more step, her hand tightening on the recurve bow. The green energy arrow hummed, illuminating the dust motes floating right in front of my hiding spot.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wait, I have no eyelids. I just strained my silver slit eyes so hard they almost rolled back into my own throat tissue. My comically oversized small bulge throbbed with a massive surge of pure, raw static energy from the digested Midnight Shroom. It was like trying to hold in a massive sneeze, except the sneeze was a neon rave.
Then, from the cracked asphalt outside, a massive, deafening roar shattered the silence.
Thump-thump-thump.
CRASH!
The radioactive amethyst capybara had just slammed through a structural pillar of a neighbouring building. A heavy shower of concrete debris rained down outside the Madons, followed by the furious, high-pitched squeal of a giant, angry rodent that still wanted its magical dinner.
The elf’s pointed ears snapped toward the shattered glass door.
She clicked her tongue in pure, unadulterated frustration, her stunning face twisting into a furious scowl. "Useless worm," she muttered, her melodic voice practically dripping with venom. "Wasted the entire mushroom..."
She spun on her heel, her tattered leather camo outfit whipping through the air as she sprinted back out of the fast-food entrance, her combat boots pounding a frantic rhythm back toward the roaring boss monster.
The green light vanished from the kitchen. The suffocating pressure evaporated.
I let out a long, pathetic, vibrating hiss, slumping my entire USB cable frame flat against the greasy metal interior of the machine.
I survived. I’m so shocked. I thought I was 100% dead.
[System: Well, strike me pink! You actually panic-attacked your way out of a proper execution, you absolute madman! Right, she’s gone back to fight the big rat. Now sit tight and let that neon shroom finish digesting before you try to use your twin-turbo cocks on anything, ya weapon. We’ve got EXP to talk about!]
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