Suddenly, you hear a loud crash coming from behind you. You spin around to look for its source.
Lil Doorknob and Big Samson have ripped the air conditioning unit off the wall and, in the midst of carrying it away, have dropped it on the floor.
The cashier’s expression immediately hardens into one of indignation.
<‘AT ‘E ‘ELL?
In an instant, he pulls his gun from under the counter and points it inches from your face.
<‘EIVES! ‘UT ‘OUR ‘ANDS IN ‘E AIR! I’M CALLING ‘E ‘OLICE!
You freeze. This is very, very bad. Not only are you in immediate danger, but this guy has a Neuralink. He doesn’t even have to take out his phone to call the police. And if he keeps you here, you know with a chilling certainty your bull is getting deported to an El Salvadorian death camp.
What do you do?
