Eliot stared at the three glowing choices: Retribution, Self-Preservation, and Exploration. The idea of Retribution was a strong pull, a dark fantasy of getting even. He could feel anger boiling inside him, waiting to burst out. But then, a cold, clear thought cut through his anger: he was starving. His stomach grumbled, a simple, constant reminder of his very real, human needs. He hadn't eaten properly in days.
He looked at himself. The worn backpack, the coat he'd grabbed in a daze – that was all he had. No money, no phone, nothing. He was completely lost. Revenge wouldn't help him if he fainted from hunger on the street.
The choice he made felt less like a decision and more like giving in to a basic need. He wasn't some comic book bad guy or hero yet. He was just a man, lost and hungry.
"Self-Preservation," he thought, the word a quiet echo in the silent park.
The System's screen flickered. The three options disappeared, replaced by new, more urgent messages.
SELF-PRESERVATION PROTOCOL INITIATED
IMMEDIATE NEEDS ASSESSMENT:
* Food: Critical
* Shelter: Urgent
* Safety: Moderate
RECOMMENDED COURSE OF ACTION:
* Acquire Sustenance
* Secure Temporary Shelter
* Formulate Long-Term Plan
ASSISTANCE PROTOCOL: ACTIVE
Assistance Protocol: Active. Eliot blinked. What did that mean? He needed food. But how? He had no money. The thought of stealing, even just a piece of bread, made his stomach turn with old feelings of right and wrong, despite how desperate he was. He was Eliot Vance, the man who always followed the rules.
He looked around, his mind racing. The park was mostly empty now. A few distant cars hummed by. His eyes landed on a crumpled plastic bottle near a trash can. He thought of his new power.
"Lift," he thought, focusing on the bottle. The blue glow around his hand grew stronger, and with a soft whoosh, the bottle floated into the air. He could do this. He had done this.
But a plastic bottle wouldn't feed him. He needed something more practical. His gaze went to a nearby convenience store, its bright lights a beacon in the growing darkness. A cold dread crept into him. No. He wouldn't steal. He couldn't.
Then, a new message flashed in his vision, appearing over the convenience store scene, like a subtle hint.
RESOURCE IDENTIFIED:
* Location: Convenience Store (200m NE)
* Potential: Low (Needs Money)
* Alternative Potential: High (Unsecured Goods - Thrown Away Food)
"Thrown away food?" He swallowed, a fresh wave of shame washing over him. The thought of looking through trash was almost as bad as stealing. But the System presented it as a good way to get "Sustenance."
He got to his feet, his body still aching from the day's events, but with a strange, new energy flowing under his skin. The blue glow around his hand faded as he lowered it, but the hum of the System remained, a constant companion.
He walked towards the convenience store, his eyes on the dumpster behind it. The air was cool, carrying the faint smell of car exhaust and something else… something sweet, almost like old bread.
As he got closer to the overflowing dumpster, the shame was a bitter taste in his mouth. He, Eliot Vance, once a man with purpose and pride, was now reduced to this. He was about to scavenge for food.
He reached out, preparing himself. His hand, the one that had just moved a twig with a thought, now hesitated, a sign of his fading dignity. But the hunger was a primal scream.
And then, just as his fingers touched the dirty edge of the dumpster, another message, sharp and sudden, cut through his vision.
WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED DATA STREAM DETECTED
SOURCE: UNKNOWN
CONTENT: EXTERNAL THREAT PROTOCOL INITIATED
ALERT: HOST VULNERABILITY DETECTED
Eliot froze, his hand still over the dumpster. External threat? Host vulnerability? What the hell did that mean? He looked around wildly, his heart pounding in his chest. The street was empty. The store lights hummed. There was nothing. Yet, the warning pulsed with an undeniable urgency. He wasn't just hungry anymore. He was suddenly, terrifyingly, in danger.