Glitch of the Good Samaritan

Chapter 4: The Alleyway Sonata

"Holy paperclips!" Henry shrieked, his voice cracking as the twin metal prongs of the taser hissed through the air directly toward his chest. "Swerve, swerve, swerve!"

With his Agility Boost running on pure, high-octane panic, Henry’s body twisted at a grotesque, physics-defying angle. His spine popped in three distinct places, but the trajectory of his desperate dodge was absolutely flawless.

"Take that, gravity!" he yelled, tumbling onto the cold concrete landing as the prongs whistled past his nose by a mere fraction of an inch.

CLANG!

The shiny metal prongs slammed directly into the rusty iron railing of the fire escape stairs, wrapping their copper wires tight around the metal.

"Wait, what is that weird buzzing noise?" Bruce asked, his massive, meaty hand firmly clamped onto the iron banister as he took another slow step upward.

"Oh, no," the wire-haired thug whispered, his eyes widening as he stared at the glowing indicator on his weapon. "Bruce, let go of the rail! Let go of the rail right now!"

"Why? Is there a spider on—"

BZZZZZZZT!

"AAAAAAAH!" Bruce screamed, his entire frame vibrating violently as blue static electricity arced from the railing directly into his arm. "My teeth! My teeth are playing jazz music!"

"Hang on! I'll pull you off!" the wire-haired thug yelled, reaching out and grabbing Bruce’s leather shoulder.

"Don't touch him, you idiot!" Henry shouted from the floor, shielding the kitten in his pocket with both hands. "That's basic high school physics!"

BZZZZZT!

"Ahhhhhh! The pain! The corporate pain!" the second thug joined the electric symphony, his hair standing straight up as the residual charge blasted through his body.

With a synchronized groan, the two men collapsed backward, rolling down the concrete steps like two oversized sacks of laundry before landing in a tangled, smoking heap at the bottom.

"Well," Henry said, slowly pushing himself up and dusting off his knees. "That was shocking. Literally."

"Ugh... you..."

Henry looked up. The massive leader of the thugs, who had previously crashed headfirst into the brick wall, was staggeringly pushing himself to his feet. He looked dizzy, a dark bruise forming on his forehead, but his massive fists were still clenched.

"I'm going to... tear you apart, desk jockey," the leader growled, spitting a bit of drywall dust from his mouth.

"Honestly, buddy, you should just lie down," Henry said, stepping backward and adopting a loose, surprisingly natural defensive stance. "I've got a temporary fifty percent speed boost, and my lower back feels better than it did in my actual twenties. You're fighting a losing battle against ergonomics."

"Shut up and die!" the leader roared, lunging forward with a desperate, wild left hook.

"Standard defensive protocol activated!" Henry narrated his own actions as his reflexes took over. "The Coffee-Break Deflection!"

With a swift, fluid slap of his forearm, Henry deflected the massive fist away from his face.

"And now, the Passive-Aggressive Email Slam!" Henry yelled, stepping inside the man’s guard and planting a firm, open-palm strike directly into the center of the leader's chest.

OOF!

The leader gasped, the air rushing out of his lungs in a sharp wheeze.

"To finish it off," Henry grinned, spinning on his heel, "the Friday-at-Five Sweep!"

He whipped his leg around, catching the leader right behind the ankles. The heavy man went airborne for a fraction of a second before crashing flat on his back with a resounding, hollow thud that echoed through the entire stairwell.

"And that," Henry panted, adjusting his tie, "is how we handle unsolicited feedback."

He reached into his breast pocket and gently scooped out the tiny orange-and-white kitten.

"Alright, little security guard," Henry murmured, setting the kitten down on a clean step safely away from the groaning, unconscious thugs. "You stay right here. Guard my folder. I need to do a quick post-battle inventory."

Mew! the kitten purred, sitting down and immediately licking its tiny paw.

Suddenly, a bright green holographic screen materialized in front of Henry's face, accompanied by a cheerful digital chime.

`[DING! COMBAT RESOLVED. INNOCENT LIFE SECURED WITH ZERO DAMAGE TO TARGET.]`

"Oh, sure, now you show up with the notifications," Henry muttered, crossing his arms. "Where was the auto-save when I was dodging high-voltage weaponry?"

`[REWARD GRANTED: ADVANCED DETECTION (LEVEL 1).]`

"Advanced Detection?" Henry raised an eyebrow. "What does that do? Help me find where Sarah hides the good biscuits in the breakroom?"

`[ADVANCED DETECTION ALLOWS THE USER TO PERCEIVE SUB-VISUAL INTERFACES, COMBINATION CODES, AND ORGANIC RESIDUAL OILS. UNDERESTIMATION OF SYSTEM CAPABILITIES WILL RESULT IN A 10% REDUCTION IN FUTURE REWARDS.]`

"Alright, alright, keep your virtual pants on," Henry grumbled. "Let's see if this shiny new skill is actually useful."

Henry walked down the stairs, carefully stepping over the tangled, twitching limbs of Bruce and the wire-haired thug. He knelt beside the wire-haired man and began rifling through his tactical vest pockets.

"Let's see... a wallet, a lighter, three mints covered in pocket lint—gross—and... aha! A highly secure, military-grade smartphone," Henry said, pulling out a sleek black device.

He tapped the screen. A password prompt popped up.

"Enter passcode," Henry read aloud. "Of course. Hey, system, how do I turn this detection thing on?"

`[SKILL ACTIVE. FOCUS VISUAL FOCUS ON THE SECURITY INTERFACE.]`

Henry squinted at the glowing glass screen. Instantly, the world around him dimmed slightly, and four distinct, glowing blue smudges appeared on the glass, illuminated like forensic evidence under a blacklight.

"No way," Henry laughed. "The residual oil from his thumb. It's practically a connect-the-dots game."

He watched the numbers glow in order: 1, 9, 8, 4.

"Seriously?" Henry scoffed, punching in the digits. "His passcode is 1984? Is he trying to be a deep, philosophical rebel, or is he just incredibly unoriginal?"

The phone let out a soft click and unlocked, revealing the home screen.

"We are in!" Henry cheered, pumping his fist. "Advanced Detection, you are officially upgraded from 'useless junk' to 'moderately convenient utility'."

Henry quickly tapped on the messaging app. At the very top of the chat history was a contact named Jackson (VP Snake).

"Let's see what the golden boy has to say," Henry muttered, scrolling through the latest texts. He read the messages out loud to the kitten. "The asset is secured. Meet me at the Neon Dragon Casino at 9:00 PM. The Genesis Group representative is flying in to finalize the purchase of the client database. If that annoying accountant tries to follow you, put him in the river."

Henry gasped, clutching his chest. "Put me in the river? Wow. How unimaginative! At least threaten to throw me in the industrial paper shredder! Where is the corporate flare?"

He checked the top of the screen. "8:15 PM. The meeting is in forty-five minutes. And the Neon Dragon Casino is all the way across town in the elite district."

Mew!

"I know, buddy," Henry sighed, leaning his head against the concrete wall. "I should just run. I survived a stroke, I got my youth back, I have a cool new cat, and my lower back feels fantastic. I could just take my savings, buy a small house in the country, and live a peaceful life."

The kitten stared up at him with massive, green, deeply judgmental eyes.

"Don't look at me like that!" Henry groaned. "It's a logical plan! Why should I risk my life against a corporate syndicate?"

The kitten let out a tiny, reproachful hiss.

"Fine! You're right!" Henry threw his hands up in defeat. "If Jackson sells that database, the company goes under. Sarah loses her job. Even those three idiots down there get laid off. And Jackson gets to drink champagne on a yacht while I live with the guilt of being a coward."

He picked up the kitten and carefully placed it back into his suit jacket's breast pocket. "Besides, I've got a score to settle with that slick-haired parasite. Let's go crash a party."

Henry ran down the remaining steps, pushed open the heavy back door of the stairwell, and emerged into the cool, crisp night air of the alleyway. He was covered in drywall dust, his trousers had a slight tear in the inseam, and his hair looked like a bird's nest, but his eyes were bright with adrenaline.

He hurried to the main street, raising his hand as a yellow cab rounded the corner.

"Taxi! Hey, taxi!" Henry yelled.

The cab screeched to a halt at the curb. Henry yanked the door open and slid into the vinyl backseat.

"Where to, pal?" the driver asked, turning around. He stopped, his jaw dropping as he took in Henry's disheveled appearance. "Whoa. You look like you just survived a wrestling match with a cement mixer. And... wait, is that a kitten poking out of your pocket?"

"It's the latest in corporate business attire, my friend," Henry said, patting the cat's head. "I need you to get me to the Neon Dragon Casino. And I need to get there fast. I'll double your tip if we make it in twenty minutes."

The driver’s eyes lit up. "The Neon Dragon? That exclusive underground joint for the ultra-rich? You don't exactly look like a high roller, buddy."

"I'm a man of mystery," Henry replied, leaning back. "Just hit the gas and let's make some magic happen."

"Hey, is that thing going to throw up on my leather seats?" the cabbie asked, squinting in the mirror.

"He's a professional, I'll have you know," Henry replied defensively. "He has an office decorum rating of at least ninety-five percent. He cleaned the microwave better than Jackson ever did."

"Who the hell is Jackson?"

"An absolute parasite in a tailored suit who is about to get his entire life ruined by an accountant and a kitten," Henry declared.

"Well, far be it from me to stop a revolution," the cabbie laughed. "But you're going to need a lot more than a cat to get past the bouncers at the Neon Dragon. Those guys are built like brick outhouses."

"I have a secret weapon," Henry smirked.

"What, more kung fu?"

"No, a terrifyingly high dexterity stat and a desperate need to avoid permanent involuntary jazz hands."

"Right... I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that last part," the cabbie muttered, hitting the horn. "Get out of the way, you tourist!"

As the blurred lights of the skyscrapers flashed past the window, a sudden, ominous pink holographic screen erupted directly in front of Henry’s face.

"Oh, come on!" Henry groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Can't I just have a quiet cab ride? Is a little peace and quiet too much to ask for?!"

`[WARNING: HIGH-STAKES ZONE INBOUND: NEON DRAGON CASINO.]`

`[THE SYSTEM HAS DETECTED A HIGH DENSITY OF ELITE INDIVIDUALS. PREPARING SPECIAL QUEST TO AID IN BLENDING IN.]`

"To aid in blending in?" Henry muttered, a terrible feeling washing over his stomach. "That sounds incredibly ominous. What kind of quest?"

`[UPCOMING QUEST: THE FABULOUS FEATHERED FLIRT.]`

`[OBJECTIVE: TO BYPASS THE ELITE SECURITY, YOU MUST ENTER THE CASINO LOBBY AND PERFORM A FULL, AUTHENTIC THREE-MINUTE CABARET DANCE NUMBER IN A FEATHER BOA.]`

Henry’s jaw dropped. "A cabaret dance?! In a feather boa?! Are you completely insane?! I'm an accountant! I don't dance cabaret! I barely dance at weddings!"

`[PENALTY FOR QUEST REFUSAL: PERMANENT INVOLUNTARY SPONTANEOUS JAZZ HANDS DURING ALL FUTURE CONVERSATIONS FOR THE REST OF YOUR NATURAL LIFE.]`

"Involuntary jazz hands?!" Henry screamed, staring at the screen in pure, unadulterated horror. "During meetings?! During funerals?! You can't do this to me, you glowing piece of digital trash! I refuse!"

"Hey, everything alright back there, buddy?" the cabbie asked, staring at Henry through the rearview mirror with genuine concern. "Who are you screaming at? Is the cat talking to you?"

"No!" Henry wailed, burying his face in his hands. "It's my future! My highly humiliating, feather-boa-filled future!"