Chapter 4: Escalation and Adaptation

Chapter 4: Escalation and Adaptation

For two weeks, the blue Mercedes truck was a ghost. Leo found himself in a strange state of limbo, a mix of quiet triumph and an unsettling lack of purpose. He’d stalk the parking lot on his breaks, the Karma Collector heavy in his pocket, his notebook filled with entries that all ended on the same date. He had won the first battle. He had forced Marcus Thorne, a man who bent the world to his will, to change his behavior. The disabled bay remained sacred, a small pocket of asphalt reclaimed for those who truly needed it.

But the silence was unnerving. The hunter had no prey.

Then, on a windswept Wednesday, it reappeared. Leo was collecting carts near the garden center when he saw it, a familiar flash of arrogant blue. His pulse quickened. He instinctively flattened himself behind a towering pyramid of bagged soil, his heart hammering. This was it. The test.

He watched as Thorne’s truck prowled the front lane. It slowed as it approached the disabled bay, almost as if out of habit. For a heart-stopping second, Leo thought Thorne would defy him again. But the truck rolled past, a predator denied its favourite hunting ground. Thorne had learned his lesson. A wave of pure, unadulterated victory washed over Leo.

It was short-lived.

Thorne didn't proceed to the general population of parking spots. Instead, he swung the massive vehicle into the next best thing: an extra-wide parent-and-child bay located just two spots down from his old haunt. He got out, alone, his smirking teenage son nowhere in sight. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and strode into the store without a backward glance, the very picture of a man who believed he’d cleverly outsmarted the system.

Leo stared, a cold knot forming in his stomach. The arrogance was breathtaking. The rules were not for Marcus Thorne; they were merely obstacles to be navigated. He pulled out the Karma Collector. His thumb hovered over the screen, but his confidence wavered. This was a new territory, a different kind of violation.

As if sensing his intent, the device in his hand gave a soft ping. A small notification popped up on the screen, the text glowing with a righteous green light.

New Quest Available: Defend the Family Bay. Objective: Penalize unauthorized use of designated parent-and-child spaces. Reward: 150 Karma Points.

The System had spoken. The rules of the game had expanded. Leo’s hesitation evaporated, replaced by a cold resolve. He started to walk toward the truck, his path clear, when he saw the store manager, Henderson, walking out the main entrance, talking on his phone.

Leo froze. He couldn’t risk being seen. It was too brazen, too close to the entrance. The obstacle was unexpected, and for a moment, the old fear returned. He was about to retreat when a voice cut through the air behind him.

“Hey, Leo! Need a hand with that?”

It was Sarah. She was pushing an empty cart, her eyes not on him, but flicking between Thorne’s truck and Henderson. She’d seen the whole thing. She understood.

“I’m fine,” Leo mumbled, his gaze still locked on the manager.

“You sure?” she asked, moving to stand beside him, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Looks like you’re trying to solve a very specific… parking problem. But the timing’s not great.”

Her smirk told him everything. She knew. Maybe not the why, but she definitely knew the what.

“He’s in the way,” Leo said, nodding towards Henderson.

Sarah’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Watch this,” she murmured. She pushed her cart forward a few feet and then, with a theatrical gasp, tipped it over. A dozen empty soda cans she’d apparently collected clattered loudly across the pavement, rolling in every direction.

“Oh, clumsy me!” she yelled, loud enough to be heard in the next county.

Henderson’s head snapped up from his phone call, his face a mask of managerial annoyance. “Jenkins! What is going on?”

“Sorry, Mr. Henderson!” she called back, bending down to slowly, painstakingly, pick up a single can. “Just a little spill. I think one of these might have rolled under your car. You know, corporate says we have to check for obstructions before moving a vehicle on company property. It’s in the new safety manual, section four, subsection B, I think? You wouldn’t want to violate policy, would you?”

It was a masterful performance. Henderson, a man terrified of corporate policy, was trapped. He ended his call with an exasperated sigh and started lecturing Sarah on proper cart handling. The diversion was perfect. Leo had his window.

He moved quickly, his movements now fluid and certain. He scanned the plate, selected the new violation code from his Quest Log, and printed the ticket. As he tucked the damning piece of paper under Thorne’s wiper, he felt a new kind of thrill. This wasn’t just his secret war anymore. He had an accomplice. An ally.

He gave Sarah a discreet nod as he walked back toward the store. She, still picking up the last can, gave him a tiny, triumphant wink.

The next time Thorne came to the store, he was practically vibrating with rage. The second wave of tickets had clearly arrived at his home. He didn’t even bother shopping. He stormed straight to the customer service desk, the yellow tickets clutched in his meaty fist, and demanded to see the manager.

Leo watched from the relative safety of the pet food aisle, pretending to organize bags of kibble. He could hear Thorne’s voice booming through the store.

“This is harassment! A conspiracy!” Thorne roared at a terrified-looking Henderson. “Every time I come to this damn store, I get one of these! Who is doing it?”

Henderson stammered, adjusting his tie. “Sir, I-I assure you, it’s not personal. Our employees are just following the new corporate initiative. The fines are handled by a third-party company. It’s… it’s out of my hands.”

“Out of your hands?” Thorne spat. “This is your parking lot! Your employees! I own a business! I spend thousands of dollars here! And this is how you treat me?”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but if you park in a designated bay without meeting the requirements, the system automatically….”

The excuse, so beautifully bureaucratic and impersonal, was like gasoline on a fire. Thorne was a man used to intimidating individuals, but he couldn't intimidate a faceless ‘system’. He was rendered powerless, and it was driving him insane. He slammed his fist on the counter, rattled off a string of curses, and stormed out, his face a thundercloud of impotent fury.

From that day on, the game intensified. Sarah became his official lookout. Their shifts became a thrilling conspiracy. If she was on checkout, a subtle cough over the intercom was the signal that Thorne’s truck had been spotted. If Leo was in the stockroom, a casual mention of a “blue delivery” was the code.

Thorne grew increasingly paranoid. Leo would watch him park, then get out of his truck and scan the storefront, his eyes narrowed, searching for his invisible tormentor. He tried parking in different sections, but he was a creature of habit and ego, always drawn to the prime spots near the entrance. Parent-and-child bay. Fifteen-minute loading zone. Fire lane. For every new transgression, Leo and the Karma Collector had a judgment waiting.

The hunter had an ally, and their prey was becoming frantic. Thorne’s visits to the MegaMart were no longer for shopping. They were tense, angry displays of a man losing a war he didn’t understand, against an enemy he could not see. He was breaking. And Leo knew the final verdict was getting closer.