The Caffeine System: Critical Heart Protocol

Chapter 3: As the World Slows Down, the Audience Laughs

“What… what’s happening to me?” Raka whispered. His voice was deep and slow, like a record played at quarter speed.

The Sleeper's pale hand slid toward Raka's neck. What should have been a deadly flash of light now slowed before his eyes.

Raka could see every crease in its knuckles, the dust particles thrown up from the path, even the invisible squirts of saliva spraying from the monster's jaws. Everything was so clear and so slow.

His heart pounded in her chest not from fear, but from the power flooding his nervous system. The four shots of 'Blackout Coffee' had worked, altering his perception of time.

The monster's hand was only centimeters away. His reflexes took over. He didn't think. He just wanted to move.

With a small push from his feet, his body shot backwards like a bullet.

WHOSH!

His head hit the bottom of the bar counter with surprising force.

DUG!

“Argh!”

Pain exploded in the back of his head. The world spun for a moment. He then rolled out from under the bar and tried to stand, but his now-super-fast body wasn't in sync with his still-adapting brain. He shot to his feet, but his momentum was too great.

BRAK!

He crashed again. This time, he hit the display shelf behind him, sending several bags of coffee beans falling in slow motion.

"Damn! Slow down, Raka, slow down!" He scolded himself.

The monster slowly retracted its hand. Its radar ears spun wildly, trying to track the source of the new sound that had suddenly appeared behind it. It knew its prey had moved, but the speed of the movement was beyond its comprehension.

Raka pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily. He glanced at the exit. “I have to run. Get out of here now.”

He took a running start by bending down and pushing himself toward the door. Instead of running straight, he swerved and ended up crashing into a series of tables and chairs.

THUD! CRACK! TUG!

From his perspective, he moved like lightning. But from the viewer's perspective, he was like a drunken fly trying to fly straight but constantly crashing into a glass window.

“Why is this so hard? It’s just a straight line!” he grumbled, rubbing his elbow where it had hit the edge of the table.

Meanwhile, the monster finally managed to turn over. It let out a low hissing sound from its lipless mouth. The strange sound seemed to shatter the silence of the world. The Sleeper began to stride forward with its claw-like hands outstretched.

Raka realized he didn't have much time. Running was a bad option in such a confined space. He had to fight.

“With what?” he whispered, glancing around frantically. “Chair? Too big. Glass? It’ll break.”

His eyes then fell on the bar counter. On the portable espresso machine that had saved his life. Beside it lay a portafilter. which was still hot after brewing four shots of that damned espresso.

'That's it,' he thought.

The sleeper lunged again. To Raka, it was just a slow, predictable advance.

Raka took a deep breath. "Focus. Like pulling off the perfect shot . It takes composure and precision."

He darted toward the counter. This time, he controlled his movements a little better. He grabbed the hot portafilter with his palm, feeling it burn. But the adrenaline and caffeine made the pain feel distant.

The monster was now right in front of him, claws ready to tear. Raka could clearly see the target. Its large ears were twitching nonstop.

He didn't jump. He didn't dodge. He charged straight at it. In a split second, he was out of reach of the monster's claws and right next to its head.

With all the strength he could muster, Raka thrust the tip of the hot portafilter deep into the monster's radar ear.

TSSSSSSSS!

There was a sizzling sound like roasting meat, followed by a violent tremor that ran through the monster's body. The creature let out a silent scream, its mouth wide open. A thick, black liquid began to seep out of the burned hole.

Raka pulled his hand away and jumped back as the monster thrashed wildly. He accidentally hit the wall and fell to the floor, watching the creature collapse and finally stop moving.

“Damn,” Raka cursed, holding back the nausea that suddenly rose to his throat because he had killed something for the first time.

Silence fell once more in the cafe. The bullet time effect began to fade. The world returned to normal speed, the smell of charred flesh filling the air. Before him lay the corpse of a creature from a nightmare.

Raka stared at his trembling hands, then his stomach churned violently. The combination of the horrific sight, the foul odor, and four shots of espresso finally reached a crescendo.

"I can't do it," He whispered, covering her mouth.

Raka crawled to the nearest corner and vomited. A bitter, black liquid gushed from his mouth, burning his throat for the second time that night.

After his stomach was empty, he could only gasp for breath as he leaned weakly against the wall.

'I did it, I survived,' he thought, 'And I just killed a monster.'

It was not a feeling of victory but rather bone-chilling disgust.

That's when a blue notification appeared again on his retina. It blinked cheerfully, which Raka found highly inappropriate.

[Congratulations! First Kill Successful!] 

[You got 10 Viewer Points (VP)!] 

[First Viewer joins: “User666”]

The text was followed by another notification, this time in the form of a small chat window in the corner of her vision.

[User666: What a noob running. Hahahaha. I thought he would die hitting the wall.]

Raka stared at the message with wide eyes.

“User… 666? Who is that?” he asked into the silence. “Someone… is watching this?”

A new reality hit him. This wasn't about survival. This was a show. And he was the sad star.

An hour passed.

Raka was currently hiding in the cafe's cramped, stuffy back storeroom, reeking of expired chocolate powder. He had even dragged the Sleeper's corpse into an industrial freezer. It wasn't a good solution, but he didn't want to see the creature again.

He sat on the floor, hugging his knees. His body still shook occasionally. The effects of the caffeine were still there, keeping him alert and nervous. Every creak made him jump.

The power that had flooded him earlier receded like a tide. His speed, focus, and razor-sharp perception vanished in an instant. In its place came a profound exhaustion, as if someone had just unplugged his battery. His last bit of adrenaline was drained from dragging the monster's corpse to the refrigerator.

His muscles felt like jelly, his head throbbed painfully, and his eyes felt heavy. It was the worst caffeine crash he had ever experienced.

Raka suddenly collapsed to his side, paralyzed on the warehouse floor, breathing shallowly.

“No… not now… don’t,” he whimpered.

That's when he felt it. A slight vibration from the floor beneath him. At first faint, it grew stronger, as if an earthquake were occurring. The vibration was accompanied by a muffled cracking sound.

With the last of his strength, Raka crept toward the warehouse door, which had a small gap at the bottom. He pressed his eyes against it and began peering out into the moonlit street.

The view outside made Raka suddenly forget how to breathe.

“Oh, no way.”

The asphalt cracked everywhere. From the cracks, thousands of pale hands emerged from the bowels of the earth. Not just one or two, but an uncountable sea of Sleepers now rose silently and filled the dead streets.