I scrolled through my phone, the battery dangerously low, and searched for job listings. It didn't take long to find five potential jobs: three in retail and two at fast-food restaurants. A memory from about a month ago surfaced, advice from an article I'd read: it's better to ask for applications in person to show you're truly interested.
With that in mind, I set off for the first retail store. The walk was brisk, the morning air cool against my skin. Stepping into the store, I approached the counter, heart pounding.
"Hi, I'm looking to apply for a job. Could I get an application form, please?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
The clerk handed me a form, and I found a quiet corner to fill it out. It was tedious, asking for all sorts of details, but thankfully, my parents had at least given me the necessary information. My legal identification, social security number, previous address—everything I needed was there. It took about an hour to finish, and then I moved on to the next store.
The process was the same at the second and third retail stores: ask for the application, find a spot to sit, and fill it out. Each form took about an hour to complete, and by the time I handed in the third one, my hand ached from writing. The sun was higher in the sky now, and I was feeling the strain of the day, but I had to keep going.
Next up was one of the fast-food restaurants. The atmosphere was a stark contrast to the retail stores—louder, busier, the smell of fried food in the air. I approached the counter, repeating my request for an application. The cashier barely glanced at me as they handed over the form. I found a seat and got to work. It was just as boring and tedious as the retail applications, but I pushed through, reminding myself of the mission's reward.
With four applications submitted, I headed towards the last fast-food restaurant. My phone buzzed—a reminder of the dwindling battery. I decided to take a shortcut through the city to save time, a route that cut through a series of alleys. It wasn't the safest path, but I didn't have the luxury of wasting any more time.
The alleys were narrow and dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of garbage. As I turned a corner, I froze. Ahead of me, three figures lounged against the walls, their eyes locking onto me as I approached.
Thugs.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing. I was outnumbered, and there was no turning back. I clenched my fists, trying to steady my breathing as I took a cautious step forward.
I kept my head down and tried to speed walk past the thugs, my heart pounding in my chest. Just get past them, I told myself. Don't look nervous. But as I got about ten feet away, I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced back and saw the three thugs approaching, their expressions predatory.
The tallest and most muscular of the three stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "What's the rush, twig?" he said, his voice deep and mocking.
I looked up at him, and as soon as I did, his stats appeared beside him:
Strength: 6.5
Endurance: 5.4
Agility: 4.1
Intelligence: 4.2
Charisma: 5.6
"Nothing, I'm just on my way to apply for a job," I stuttered, my voice trembling.
The thug looked at his two companions and chuckled. "Looks like we have an upstanding citizen here. Trying his best to contribute to society. Well, we contribute to society too, you know," he said, smirking. "We just don't like people who rub it in our faces that they're getting a job."
I blinked, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. I hadn't intended to rub anything in anyone's face. I was just trying to survive.
The thug took a step closer, and I could see the amusement in his eyes. "So, what kind of job are you applying for, twig?" he asked, leaning in. His breath smelled of cigarettes and something metallic, making me wince.
"Uh, it's just a fast-food place," I mumbled, trying to step back, but the other two thugs closed in behind me, cutting off any escape.
The thug chuckled again, looking at his companions. "Hear that, boys? A fast-food place. Real high aspirations."
They laughed, and I felt a flush of humiliation and fear. I needed to get out of here, but I didn't see how. My mind raced, looking for a way to defuse the situation or escape, but I was drawing a blank.
The leader of the group leaned even closer, his smirk widening. "You know, you look like you could use some... protection. Maybe we can offer our services, for a small fee, of course."
I swallowed hard, realizing they were trying to extort me. "I-I don't have any money," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
The thug's expression darkened, and he grabbed my shirt, pulling me closer. "That's too bad, twig. Because everyone pays up one way or another."
My mind raced, frantically searching for a way out of the situation. But time never stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fist flying towards me from one of the thugs beside me. My reaction time, never great, failed me completely, and the punch landed squarely on my left cheek. The pain was excruciating. I fell to the ground, the world spinning around me.
Even though I'd been hit before, bullied countless times in school, it didn't help me bear the pain any better. Instinctively, I curled into a fetal position, covering my head with my arms and knees, trying to protect myself from the onslaught. The kicks started almost immediately, sharp and brutal, landing on my ribs, back, and head. Each impact sent waves of agony through my body.
"Look at this loser! Thinks he can work at a fast-food place and be somebody!" one of the thugs jeered, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Yeah, probably can't even flip a burger right," another thug added, laughing cruelly.
Their mocking laughter echoed in my ears, adding to the humiliation and fear.
Ten seconds. That's how long it lasted, but each second stretched into an eternity. Every kick felt like a hammer blow, and the taunts pierced deeper than any physical pain. Just when I thought it would never end, I heard the distant wail of police sirens.
The thugs paused, looking at each other with wide eyes. "Cops! We gotta get outta here!" one of them yelled. In a hurried scramble, they took off, holding on to their sagging pants as they ran.
I lay on the ground, barely conscious and racked with pain. My vision blurred, and I could feel blood trickling from my nose and mouth. My entire body throbbed, every breath a struggle. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and I fought to keep my eyes open.
The sirens grew louder, and for a moment, I hoped they were coming for me. But they never did. The sirens faded into the distance, probably responding to another call. I was left alone in the alley, lying on the cold, hard concrete.
I tried to move, but every part of my body protested in agony. I could barely lift my head, my vision swimming with tears and pain. The sky above was starting to darken, and the alley grew colder. I shivered, both from the chill and the shock of what had just happened.
For a moment, I thought about the system, about the mission it had given me. Apply for five jobs. Earn a stat point. I had done four, and now... now I was here, beaten and broken, with no way to complete the last application. Despair washed over me, and I felt tears spill down my cheeks.
I lay there, helpless and alone, the darkness closing in.