"Superconvict!" by Random Person

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“G-give me all the money!” you squeaked. “Or I’ll shoot!”

So what if your threat sounded like it came out of the mouth of an adolescent boy? You were new at this. You swallowed thickly as your hands began to shake. Second thoughts and doubt set in, and only then did you question why you decided to rob a local McDonald’s.

Oh, right. College. Damn the education system.

But the guy behind the counter of the burger joint was convinced and he began to stutter as he bargained for his safety.

“Please, man! D-don’t hurt me! I‘m just the cashier. Look, man, I’ll give you money, just don’t ████ing shoot, okay?” he stammered as he opened the register. His hand shook as he removed stack after stack of bills and placed them in the bag you had so graciously provided.

Everyone else huddled under the tables, food forgotten. They stared at the gun in your hand with a mixture of fear and shock. Suddenly self-conscious, you pulled your hood down lower, hoping no one recognized you.

The cashier had finished emptying the register and was eyeing your gun as well. You could see the sweat beading at his brow and the color draining from his face.

“Look, I gave you what you wanted, okay? S-so be cool and put that thing away, man.”

You looked down at the gun, then back up at him. “Okay,” you said as you slung the gun at him. The butt of the pistol struck him square in the jaw. He grunted before crumpling to the ground as you grabbed the bag and hightailed it out.

As you threw open the double doors of the fast food restaurant and dashed out with your ill-gotten gains, you stumbled over your own two feet in an amazing coup of grace and elegance. You landed on your hands and knees, the bag forgotten. It fell from your grasp and tumbled to the ground, and out spilled your Benjamins, Grants, and Jacksons.

You pulled yourself upright and immediately began to gather the scattered bills. It was easier said than done because your hands were still shaking and the adrenaline still hadn’t worn off. Back inside, people were snapping out of their daze and looking around for the hooligan who had the audacity burglarized a public establishment.

Someone handed you a wad of bills and you thanked them with an inattentive mumble as you stuffed what you could back into the bag.

Oh. Wait just a minute.

You did a double take with eyes as wide as Aquaman’s after he first walked into a Long John Silver’s. A robot smiled at you in return — a cute, wholesome, innocuous smile displayed in the screen on its head. Then it whipped out what appeared to be a nightstick from a compartment on the side of its body. The simple smile was still there even as it was about to hammer your skull into the ground.

A shot suddenly resounded around the otherwise silent street.

“Wh-what the ████, man?” the cashier stuttered, the gun now in his hands. He gaped at both you and the robot, as if not entirely sure which to shoot first. “That was just the warning shot! Next one to make a move gets a bullet to the ████ing head!” He edged his way out of the McDonald’s. The door slammed shut behind him.

So he wanted to play hero. That was fine with you, but as for the robot…

In a flash, the android was on him. His found his ultimatum futile as the gun did very little to stop the bot; the bullets fired simply ricocheted off its polished exterior. You could only watch in horror as it reamed the nightstick down his throat and hurled him back into the restaurant via the glass walls.

After it finished delivering its pummeling, it turned to you. This time instead of just a club, it pulled out its full inventory: an endless array of sharp, stabby implements that would put a cutlery drawer to shame. But luckily for you, a crowd had started to gather and not too far behind was the police.

The smile changed to a frown as it retracted the weapons. It grabbed you by the waist and made a quick escape through the skies with a single propeller that emerged from its head.

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