Pushing a 'shopping cart' through a human food distribution establishment, I find myself growing increasingly dissatisfied.
The structure itself is… inefficient.
Bright artificial lights hum overhead. Rows upon rows of preserved consumables are stacked with no clear hierarchy of nutritional value. Humans wander aimlessly, stopping, comparing, debating—wasting time.
Time they do not have much of to begin with.
I grip the handle of the cart a bit tighter than necessary, metal creaking faintly under my hand.
Beside me, Sasha continues speaking without pause.
"It's a good thing I took two weeks of paid leave," she says, tossing another item into the cart without looking.
"I've got so much to show you. And now that I've got backup—" she gestures vaguely at me, "—I can actually stock up without worrying about getting jumped halfway home."
"You previously limited your resource acquisition due to fear of theft," I note.
"Yeah. Welcome to Gotham."
"…I see."
She keeps going.
"I even borrowed some money from my sister, so we're not just living off ramen and vibes this week—"
"The 'shopping cart' is reaching its capacity limit," I interrupt, glancing down at the overflowing contents. "How much more will you acquire, woman?"
Sasha snorts.
"I didn't take you for the impatient type."
I look at her.
She looks back.
And—does not flinch.
…Noted.
"I have been patient, Sasha," I reply evenly. "We have been here for one hundred and ten minutes. I counted."
She pauses mid-step.
Then slowly turns to me.
"…You counted?"
"Yes."
A grin spreads across her face.
"That's adorable."
I frown slightly.
"…Define 'adorable.'"
"It means—" she waves a hand, searching for the word, "—like… unexpectedly cute. In a weird way."
"…I am neither 'cute' nor 'adorable.'"
"Yeah, yeah, big scary alien warlord," she teases, tossing another item into the cart. "Still counted though."
I say nothing.
…but I remember the word.
—
We turn into another aisle.
I scan the items.
"Explain this," I say, picking up a brightly colored box.
"Cereal," Sasha answers immediately. "Breakfast food."
"It appears to be processed grain coated in sugar."
"…That's exactly what it is."
"And humans consume this… willingly?"
She shrugs.
"It tastes good."
"…Nutritional inefficiency in exchange for sensory pleasure," I murmur, placing it back.
"You're gonna hate desserts."
"I already do."
"You haven't even tried any yet!"
"I do not need to consume poison to know it is poison."
"It's not poison!"
"Excess sugar degrades the body."
"Okay, well, some of us don't plan on living for thousands of years," she shoots back.
…Fair.
—
Eventually, we reach a halt.
A line of humans stands ahead of us, each with their own carts filled with goods.
I stare at them.
Then at Sasha.
"Why are we stationary?"
She nudges me lightly.
"It's called a line. We wait our turn."
"…Why?"
"So everyone gets a fair chance."
I glance at the elderly female in front of us. If she were a Viltrumite her physical appearance would indicate an age ranging in the ten thousands...
Her posture is weak. Her movements slow. Her body frail.
"…And you willingly position yourself behind those least capable?" I ask. "This reduces overall efficiency."
"Yes," Sasha says firmly. "Especially them."
"…Explain."
She crosses her arms.
"Because they've earned it. And because not everything is about speed or strength."
I look at the woman again.
Then back at Sasha.
"…Your species prioritizes fairness over optimization."
"Sometimes, yeah."
"…I will require further observation."
"You and me both."
—
As we wait, another voice cuts in.
"Sasha? That you?"
Sasha turns—and immediately lights up.
"Mrs. Alvarez? Oh my god, hi!"
An older woman approaches, smiling warmly. Her presence is… different. Calm. Familiar.
"Sasha, sweetheart, where've you been? Haven't seen you around in weeks."
"Work's been crazy," Sasha says quickly. "And, uh—life stuff."
Mrs. Alvarez's eyes shift to me.
They widen slightly.
"Well now… and who is this?"
Before Sasha can answer, I speak.
"Thragg."
"…Just Thragg?" the woman asks, amused.
"Yes."
She chuckles softly.
"Well, Thragg, it's nice to meet you. I'm Elena."
I nod once.
"You are acquainted with Sasha."
"I've known her since she moved in," Elena says fondly. "She helps me carry groceries sometimes."
I glance at Sasha.
"…You assist others without compensation."
Sasha groans.
"Don't start—"
"It is inefficient," I continue.
"It's nice," she snaps.
Elena laughs.
"He's got a point, mija. But you've always been like that."
Sasha smiles sheepishly.
"…Yeah, well. Someone's gotta be."
Elena leans in slightly, lowering her voice.
"You be careful, okay? Things have been… worse lately."
Sasha's smile fades just a fraction.
"…Yeah. I know."
Elena's eyes flick to me again.
"…You keep her safe, alright?"
I meet her gaze.
"…She is under my protection."
Sasha blinks.
Elena smiles.
"Good answer."
—
The transaction process is… tedious.
Currency is exchanged. Items are scanned. Time is wasted.
I endure it.
—
Carrying four large bags of 'groceries' in one arm, I walk beside Sasha as we exit the establishment.
She continues talking.
I listen—selectively.
"…and I swear, if my sister finds out I spent half that money on snacks she's gonna kill me—"
Her voice fades slightly as my attention shifts.
Something is wrong.
The air.
The movement.
I scan.
Humans reposition subtly. Windows close. Figures linger too long in shadowed areas.
Preparation.
My mind sharpens instantly.
Thousands of years of war do not dull.
They refine.
My thoughts drift—briefly.
To my past.
To failure.
To Nolan.
To Mark.
To the empire.
All of it—
Gone.
My gaze hardens.
Then—
Footsteps.
Multiple.
Sasha's grip tightens on my arm.
I turn.
Twelve.
"…Efficient," I murmur. They saw my physical appearance. And decided numbers were the best option.
One steps forward, grinning. But his eyes linger with a light of desperation. And fear when they meet my gaze
"Look at what we got here," he says. "A lost puppy and a pretty little thing."
Sasha shifts closer.
"Keep walking," she mutters under her breath.
"I disagree," I reply.
I set the groceries down.
Step forward.
Time… slows.
My perception expands.
Every twitch. Every breath. Every muscle contraction.
I can end this.
Instantly.
All twelve.
Gone before Sasha blinks.
…
But then—
Her voice.
From before.
(You can't just kill anyone that attacks us.)
(That is inefficient. Threats must be eliminated.)
(Thragg… I'm human. I don't want heroes coming after us because you kill everyone.)
…
I exhale slowly.
"…Very well."
Time resumes.
I move.
Not to kill.
But to… restrain.
A flick of my finger.
Precise.
Measured.
Each skull receives the lightest possible impact necessary to disrupt consciousness.
One.
Two.
Three—
Twelve.
They collapse almost instantly.
Alive.
Barely intact. Even my lightest of flicks possibly damaged their frontal lobes.
But alive.
I return to Sasha.
Pick up the groceries.
Continue walking.
—
There is silence for a moment.
Then—
"You actually did it."
I glance down at her.
Her expression is… different.
Not fear.
Not shock.
Something else.
"You took my advice," she says, a large smile spreading across her face.
"…It was logically sound," I reply.
"That's not why," she says, nudging me.
"…Clarify."
She looks up at me.
"Because you listened."
I pause.
"…I am observing."
"Yeah," she says softly. "I can tell."
We walk a bit further.
Then—
"Hey… one question."
"Proceed."
"…What were you gonna do if you didn't listen to me?"
I look ahead.
"…Eliminate them."
She exhales.
"Yeah. Figured."
A pause.
Then she bumps my arm lightly.
"Progress though. I'll take it."
…I do not respond.
But I do not disagree.