No Witnesses

Ace was abandoned at a rundown storefront.

The large neon signage at its entrance stuttered like a tired heartbeat; it could fall off at any moment.

How were they still in business?

He scratched his head, looking down at the things he’d been dumped with: an earpiece, a bracelet, a bag, and a rickety pistol.

The bracelet was etched with what they called ‘runes’. The ogre had warned him it would reduce him to a pile of ash if he tried to escape. That was one thing he had no intention of testing.

He took one last glance at the vehicle that dropped him off as it was departing, spitting a large plume of smoke in its wake. It looked like a cross between a tank and a truck, with three wheels on each side. The metal casing was covered in scratches and dents, with half its lights no longer functioning. He was pretty sure the driver was a robot, but wasn’t brave enough to ask. What if he took offence? Do robots take offence in this world?

The pistol comfortably slotted in his back pocket, he walked into the store.

“We-we-welc-c-ome!” The greeting was hollow and synthetic, glitching between syllables.

Tangled wires and metal scraps were littered around. There were shelves full of glowing potion bottles in a myriad of different colours.

There were two beings among the mess: one wrinkly humanoid with grey hair and what seemed like animal ears glancing at the reduced aisle, and a metal chassis standing at the checkout.

Ace did a double-take. First, it was a green ogre, and now animal-human hybrids?
If you told him he was playing an ultra-realistic VR fantasy game, he would’ve believed you. The only thing keeping him present was the sweat sticking to his skin and the stomping of his heartbeat.

Upon closer inspection, the robot’s exoskeleton had long corroded, and its joints ground with every movement. Diseased with rust, it was clearly on its last legs.

Phew.

He could wait for the granny to gather her belongings, leave, and then sneak up on the unsuspecting robot and walk out with the loot.

This will be a breeze, he thought.

Picking up a random turquoise bottle on the shelf nearest to him, he began skimming, feigning interest in its contents. Just as if he were shopping for his shampoo on a Saturday afternoon.

Perfectly inconspicuous.

“W-would you-u like s-some help?” The robot called out with its glitchy voice.

“M-me?” Ace replied awkwardly, glancing to see if he was the one being referred to. The granny had no reaction.

“No, I’m okay,” he replied with the friendliest, most innocent expression he could muster. The type of smile you’d give to people your mother introduced you to.

The robot at the checkout shuddered forward, its gears scraping like nails on a chalkboard - Ace winced at the sound. It continued until it was uncomfortably close, like an overbearing friend with no awareness of personal space.

“I-I see you are looking at g-g-goblin urine remedies for e-e-explosive diarrhoea, would you like m-me to recommend similar p-products?”

“N-NO I’M OKAY,” he stammered, choking on his reply, glancing over at the granny to see if she heard. Thankfully, she was minding her own business, still looking through a selection of potions.

“Hey, what’s taking so long?” It was the Ogre’s voice, playing from his earpiece.

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Ace muttered quietly in reply.

“5 minutes. If you’re not done by then, you’re going to be roasted pieces of flesh,” The ogre released a devilish chuckle, “And make sure there are no witnesses.”

No witnesses.

Ace glanced over at the granny again, who looked up and gave a slight smile, her ears twitching before she returned to her browsing.

His fingers were slippery against the glass from cold sweat.

How much time do I have left? 4 minutes? He began counting in his head.

Two hundred and forty, two hundred and thirty-nine.

His palms were unsteady, clammy- as if his heart had dropped into them, heavy and terrified. She should be about to leave any second now, right?

Two hundred and three, two hundred and two.

He glanced towards her again. She still hadn’t moved an inch.

One hundred and sixty, one hundred and fifty-one.

He placed his hand on the gun in his back pocket, thinking back to the impact it had left on solid concrete.

One hundred and thirty-three, one hundred and thirty-two.

“Hey, robot, where are the poison potions?”

“The p-purple ones in t-the second aisle.”

One hundred and thirty, one hundred and twenty-nine.

Frantically, his eyes scanned around the jungle of wires for the colour purple.

They are… on the same shelf that the granny is looking at. Of course they are. That’s just my luck.

Ninety-one, ninety.

“Excuse me, do you need any help?” Ace asked with a smile, strolling towards the shelf she stood at.

“No, I’m OK, dear,” she replied, squinting at the fine print on the potion she was holding.

Eighty-one, eighty.

With his right hand, he slid the pistol out of his pocket.

It slipped.

Clang.

The metal hit the ground like thunder in silence.

Seventy-one, seventy.

The granny’s ears stood tall for a moment, but she stayed facing the other way.

Ace took a brief gasp of relief and leaned backwards to pick the pistol back up, eyes fixated on her every movement.

Sixty-one, sixty.

He held the pistol with both hands, clenching all ten of his fingers, yet it was still shaking uncontrollably.

I have to do it. I have no choice.

Every breath he took reverberated in his head, blaring, drowning out the fleeting thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling the trigger.

Closing his eyes, he tensed all the muscles in my body, preparing for the aftermath.

But nothing happened.

He pulled the trigger again.

Still, nothing happened.

The granny, hearing the muttering, began turning around.

A sneer rang out from the earpiece.

That b*stard. He set me up on purpose.