---
The alarm blared like a dying robot.
Alexis Prince groaned, slammed the snooze button, and stared at the ceiling for a long second.
"Still not a dream," he muttered.
> System: "Good morning, Administrator. Estimated hydration: low. Mental fatigue: moderate. Coolness factor: questionable."
"Rude."
He dragged himself out of bed, brushing aside the memory of last night — the final checklist for Axis Goods, the encrypted message Nova left about offshore logistics, and a catalog of golden bullet prototypes.
But now?
Now he had to pretend none of that existed.
He showered, threw on a hoodie, grabbed a granola bar, and left his apartment like any other broke university student.
No one looked twice.
---
The university was loud and chaotic as always. Students buzzed between buildings, holding overpriced coffees and underfed stress.
Alexis walked with his usual quiet rhythm — fast enough not to be late, slow enough to avoid attention. To most people, he was invisible.
Except one.
"Hey, Prince!"
He turned slightly. Iris Monroe jogged up beside him, adjusting her heavy backpack.
"You vanished after econ yesterday," she said. "Witness protection?"
"Had a class," he lied.
"Right." She narrowed her eyes. "You've been acting... different."
"Didn't realize you tracked my vibe updates."
"You used to slouch more. Now you walk like you're hiding an expensive briefcase in your spine."
Alexis blinked. "Thanks?"
"Just saying. There's something off about you lately. Like you're still a college student… but also, I don't know, a guy who knows five ways to escape a room using just a stapler and sarcasm."
He said nothing.
Iris grinned. "Anyway, see you in class."
---
Lectures came and went.
Alexis kept to himself. He took notes, nodded when professors looked his way, and answered exactly one question to maintain average engagement. He ate a sandwich alone in the courtyard, shared a half-wave with a guy from accounting, and dodged a flyer for a new improv club.
To anyone watching, he was just a tired student navigating the chaos.
Which was exactly the point.
> System: "No surveillance detected. Civilian role: unthreatened. Subject 'Iris Monroe' continues light observation out of curiosity."
> "She's like a bloodhound with no idea what she's smelling."
> "Shall I discreetly redirect her browser history to conspiracy theories about cheese?"
> "Tempting."
---
By late afternoon, Alexis arrived at Axis Goods — the corner shop that now stood as the public face of his empire.
To the world, it was a quirky startup store with strange gadgets and hipster incense.
To him, it was a controlled front. A camouflage layer. A safe testing ground for public operations.
He unlocked the door, stepped in, and flipped on the lights.
> "System?"
> "All systems nominal. Scent profile initiated. Inventory stocked. Payment terminals functional. Let the capitalism begin."
He pulled on his work shirt, checked the shelf of laughing potato keychains, and straightened a display of glow-in-the-dark stress ducks.
Then he flipped the sign.
OPEN.
---
The first customer walked in within ten minutes.
She was a student with purple headphones and a distracted air.
"Uh, hi," she said. "Do you sell, like, those LED notebooks that sync to your mood?"
"Sort of. But they lie," Alexis replied, handing her one labeled "MoodBook: For Your Emo Phase and Beyond."
She laughed, bought two, and left.
Next came a guy who wanted a Bluetooth incense diffuser shaped like a jellyfish.
Then an old man wandered in, looked around, and said, "This place smells like the 1970s," before buying a ceramic frog with Wi-Fi.
By sunset, Alexis had sold nine weird items and answered more questions than he cared to count.
> "System," he muttered. "Day one impressions?"
> "Customers: intrigued. Sales: moderate. Civilian perception: successful. We are officially weird enough to avoid suspicion and interesting enough to survive."
> "Just the way I like it."
---
As he organized a shelf of solar-powered novelty chickens, the bell jingled again.
Iris walked in.
She took her time browsing, her notebook partially visible in her jacket pocket.
She picked up a keychain shaped like a miniature dumpster on fire.
"This one speaks to me," she said.
"You and most of my customers."
She turned it over in her hand, then gave him a sharp look.
"You run this place?"
"I just work here," Alexis replied with a shrug.
"Do you?"
"You say that like I'm secretly running an underground cafe for cyborg diplomats."
"I mean, I wouldn't rule it out," she muttered, paying in coins. "Still think you're weird."
"I try."
She left.
He smiled faintly.
> "System?"
> "Subject finds you curious, mildly suspicious, and socially offbeat. Nothing more."
> "Perfect."
He sat behind the counter as the sun dipped below the city skyline.
Outside, students returned to dorms. Evening classes ended. Life continued.
Inside, Axis Goods stood quietly — half novelty store, half shielded fortress.
Alexis Prince, on paper, was just a student.
But behind the register, behind the hoodie, behind the calm eyes and the gentle smirk — Adam watched the world.
And the world had no idea.