The silence in the hallway was thick as Chris leaned against the wall. His knees feeling watery, his breath coming in ragged little gasps. The wave of relief that had washed over him was so profound, so absolute, it was almost a physical force, leaving him weak and giddy in its wake.
He was safe.
The investigation, the warrant, the angry, sputtering visage of Mayor Bob—it had all passed over him, a storm that had failed to make landfall. And he had been saved by the simple, undeniable, and deeply insulting fact that his life was too pathetic to be believed. Chris Day is thirty years old and still lives with his mother. That man is the opposite of a mastermind.
The Sheriff's words, recounted with such glee by Pete, echoed in his mind. It was the most humiliating get-out-of-jail-free card ever. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow, but the safety it provided was sweeter than any energy drink. He was invisible, not because he was skilled, but because he simply hadn't moved on with his life. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
He pushed himself off the wall and retreated to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. He collapsed into his gaming chair, the familiar squeak and groan of the faux leather a comforting sound. He stared blankly at his dark monitors, replaying the close call in his mind. He had poked a Level 35 bear and had survived only because the bear had looked at him and decided he wasn't even worth mauling. It was a victory, but it was the most pathetic victory he could possibly imagine.
As he sat there, wallowing in a strange mixture of relief and self-deprecation, a brilliant, gold-trimmed notification exploded into existence in the center of his vision.
It was more elaborate and ornate than any System message he had seen before. The translucent blue box was edged in shimmering gold filigree, and it seemed to pulse with a triumphant, internal light. It looked like the kind of pop-up you'd get for completing a legendary, world-ending quest chain in Vexlorn.
[HIDDEN QUEST COMPLETED: Evade Civic Investigation!]
[Objective: Survive an official inquiry without being identified as the primary target. Complete!]
[Method: Passive Concealment (Lifestyle Camouflage)]
[Quest Completed! 500 XP Awarded! (Stealth Bonus)]
Chris stared, his jaw hanging open. He read the notification again, the words refusing to compute. Hidden Quest Completed. He hadn't even known he was on a quest. And the method... Passive Concealment (Lifestyle Camouflage).
The System had graded his pathetic, shut-in lifestyle as a successful "Stealth" technique. It had taken his lack of a job, his social isolation, and his residence in his mother's house, and had classified it all as a clever, tactical choice. It had rewarded him for being a loser.
A short, hysterical laugh escaped his lips. It started as a chuckle, then grew into a full-throated, wheezing cackle of pure, unadulterated absurdity. He had failed upwards into a quest completion. His entire life had been a stealth mission he hadn't even known he was running.
The massive, unearned XP reward flooded his experience bar. He watched, delighted, as the thin blue line rocketed past the Level 4 marker, not just nudging forward, but screaming across the display. The HUD flashed with a brilliant golden light, and instead of the usual simple ding, a new sound filled his mind. It was a short, triumphant orchestral fanfare, a three-note cascade of trumpets and horns that sounded like it had been lifted directly from a classic fantasy RPG. It was the sound of a truly significant accomplishment.
[Congratulations! You have reached LVL 5!]
[Milestone Achieved! System access has been upgraded. User Interface has been enhanced.]
He looked at his HUD in the top-left of his vision. It had changed. The simple, blocky borders were now sleeker, with softly glowing edges. The font was sharper, clearer, and easier to read. It was a quality-of-life update, a sign that he had passed some important, invisible threshold. Reaching Level 5 was a big deal.
A final, crucial notification appeared, this one detailing the true prize of his milestone achievement.
[ABILITY UPGRADE: [INSPECT] has upgraded to [INSPECT (Tier 2)]]
[New Module Unlocked: [Causal Analysis]]
A wave of genuine confidence, the first he had felt since this entire Mayor Bob situation began, washed over him, chasing away the last of his fear and humiliation. This was it. This was the turning point. He had survived the ordeal. He had been rewarded. And now, he was stronger than before. This was good.
Eager to test out his new toy, Chris jumped up from his chair and walked to his bedroom window. The window offered a clear, if distant, view of the scattered houses of the local neighborhood. He scanned the landscape, looking for a suitable target. His eyes settled on a familiar landmark two acres over: the slightly-too-large, beige-colored house belonging to Mayor Bob Thompson.
He activated his new [INSPECT (Tier 2)]. He focused on the house, and the familiar data window appeared. It was cleaner, the data organized more efficiently. But now there was a new, selectable tab at the bottom, labeled:
[PROBABLE OUTCOMES]
His heart beat a little faster. He selected the tab with a mental command.
Now, what to inspect? He zoomed his focus in on the roof, looking for a small, insignificant detail to test. He found one: a single shingle near the peak looked a little loose, its edges curled up slightly. He focused on it. The text in the sub-menu appeared.
[Object: Asphalt Shingle]
[Condition: Degraded (9% Integrity)]
[Probable Outcome (88% Chance): Next significant rainfall will cause this shingle to detach, slide down the roof, and clog the primary rain gutter above the porch.]
The predictive power was amazing! It was one thing to see the current state of an object. It was another thing entirely to be shown its future. Even a mundane, plumbing-related future. The System could see the invisible threads of cause and effect.
His mind raced. This new [Causal Analysis] module changed things. He could know what was going to happen.
He turned from the window and started rapidly testing the new skill on targets inside his own house, a frantic energy seizing him. He went downstairs and opened the refrigerator, focusing on the last carton of milk.
Ding.
[Item: 2% Milk]
[Probable Outcome (95% Chance): Will be entirely consumed by Pete Woody for macaroni and cheese at approximately 6:30 PM today, leaving none for Chris's morning cereal.]
Chris scowled. Of course. Actionable intelligence. He made a mental note to hide the milk. He closed the fridge and his eyes landed on Buddy the cat, who was sleeping peacefully on the living room rug. He focused.
Ding.
[Name: Buddy (Felis catus)]
[Probable Outcome (100% Chance): If left undisturbed, will emit a high-volume flatulence in 3 minutes and 14 seconds, causing Misty Woody to open a window and complain about the cat's diet.]
The sheer, absurd specificity of it almost made him laugh out loud. 100% chance. And a timer. This was awesome information! He now had the power to prevent a minor domestic biohazard incident.
But he had one final, crucial target to inspect. The one that had started this whole mess.
He went back to his room, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. He sat down at his computer, opened a browser, and navigated to the now-infamous Facebook profile of Bucky Watcher. The blurry deer stared back at him, a symbol of his anonymous, accidental power. He took a deep breath and activated [INSPECT (Tier 2)] on the page itself.
The [PROBABLE OUTCOMES] tab was already glowing. He selected it. The result that appeared was chilling.
[Digital Construct: "Bucky Watcher"]
[Status: Actively Monitored by Mayor Thompson]
[Probable Outcome (22% Chance): Advanced IP-tracing software recently purchased by Mayor Thompson will successfully link this profile to this home's IP address within 72 hours.]
Chris stared at the new, terrifyingly specific data point. The relief he had felt just minutes before evaporated, replaced by a new, more technical kind of fear. The investigation hadn't stopped. It had just gone private. The Mayor was still hunting him, and now he had his own set of tools. Advanced IP-tracing software. 72 hours.
Oh shit.