I AM GOD OF CRIMINAL

4

4

Ethan sat at one of the library’s ancient computers, tapping his fingers on the desk as the screen loaded painfully slow.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. “How is this thing even still working?”

“Keep it down,” the librarian hissed from across the room.

Ethan sighed, leaning closer to the monitor. A quick search for “Jimmy Carter escape news” brought up a slew of articles, most of which he’d already read in his first life. He clicked through them, scanning for any overlooked details.

Two abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of town were mentioned. He couldn’t be in both.

He jotted down the addresses on a piece of scrap paper. “If I’m wrong, I’ll just check the other one. No big deal,” he whispered to himself.

“Are you sure you’re okay going out again so late?” Emily asked, looking up from the couch.

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” Ethan said, pulling on his jacket.

“Don’t be long,” she warned. “Adam’s waiting for you to help him with homework.”

“I won’t,” Ethan lied, slipping out the door.

The first warehouse was a bust. Dusty, empty, and eerily silent, it looked as if it hadn’t been touched in decades. Ethan didn’t linger, his nerves already stretched thin.

By the time he reached the second warehouse, his heart was pounding. This one had signs of life—discarded food wrappers, a faint smell of cigarettes, and footprints leading inside.

This is it.

Ethan crouched behind a pile of crates, peering through a gap in the broken window. Inside, a man paced back and forth, his face partially obscured by a hood.

“That’s him,” Ethan whispered. “Jimmy Carter.”

The mirror vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glared at it. “What do you want now?” he hissed.

“Opportunity detected: Subterfuge.”

“Subterfuge? What is that supposed to mean?”

Before he could get an answer, the words shifted: “Skill suggestion: Disguise.”

Ethan frowned, his mind racing. Disguise… He looked down at his jacket, then at the sandwich shop logo stitched on the sleeve. Delivery boy. That could work.

Thirty minutes later, Ethan was walking toward the warehouse door, a paper bag in hand. His heart hammered in his chest.

“This is so stupid,” he muttered. “What if he sees through it? What if—”

The door creaked open before he could finish.

“You the delivery guy?” a gruff voice asked.

Ethan forced a smile, lifting the bag. “Yep, one turkey sub, extra mustard.”

Jimmy stepped out of the shadows, his face cleaner and more composed than Ethan had expected. He wore a clerical collar, of all things.

“Didn’t order this,” Jimmy said, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s a promo,” Ethan lied smoothly. “Our shop’s giving free meals to clergy this week. Must’ve gotten your address off some list.”

Jimmy hesitated, then grabbed the bag. “Sure, whatever. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Ethan said, already turning to leave. “Enjoy.”

Outside, Ethan collapsed against the wall, his legs shaking.

“That was insane,” he whispered. “He’s here. He’s really here.”

The mirror buzzed in his pocket again.

“Mission successful: Observation confirmed.”

Ethan glared at it. “What are you, my creepy little cheerleader?”

The words shifted: “You now understand