Chapter 6 he Watchful Eye

Jack Connors had just finished installing a new security system in his small apartment building. The building, with its five floors, was his sole investment, and the recent spate of petty thefts had spurred him to add extra surveillance. With the new cameras set up, he had managed to get the system operational just in time.

As Jack was catching his breath, he noticed his phone vibrating. It was an early morning call from his old college buddy, Mark Johnson.

"Hey, Jack, it's Mark. How's it going?" Mark's voice was warm and familiar.

"Mark! It's been a while. What's up?" Jack replied, glad to hear a friendly voice.

"Not much. I had a free lunch today and thought I'd invite you. Are you free?" Mark's tone was casual.

Jack hesitated for a moment, glancing at the security monitors. "Sure, sounds good. Where should we meet?"

"Let's do The Big Plate BBQ on River Road. I'll be there at noon," Mark said, hanging up before Jack could reply.

Jack looked at his right hand, now an alien entity named Ross. Since Ross had commandeered his hand, Jack's life had taken a bizarre turn. Ross had been using Jack's body to execute its plans, one of which was to develop a new mobile game engine—one that was far superior to anything currently available.

As Jack pondered over the invitation, his phone buzzed again. This time, a text from his bank appeared, stating a significant withdrawal of $15,340, leaving him with just $4,780. Jack's face drained of color. He knew it couldn't be a mistake; it had to be Ross's doing.

"Ross, my bank account—"

Ross's voice interrupted him coldly. "I used the funds. The situation demands it."

Jack's anger flared, but he knew better than to challenge Ross. He tried to reason, "But why such a large amount?"

Ross responded dismissively, "It's necessary for my operations."

Before Jack could react, a sharp pain coursed through his body, and he collapsed. The punishment was swift and brutal. Jack lay there, drenched in sweat, unable to move as Ross continued its work on the computer, seemingly unaffected by the turmoil it caused.

An hour later, Jack, still recovering from the punishment, received another command from Ross. "You have an appointment at The Big Plate BBQ. It's five kilometers away. Leave now."

Jack gritted his teeth and prepared to walk. Despite the torrential rain and the bizarre request from Ross—to walk in perfect step and maintain a consistent pace—he had no choice but to comply. He knew that if he disobeyed, the consequences would be dire.

In the pouring rain, Jack walked with unwavering precision. Each step was measured, each pace consistent, regardless of the storm or the chaos around him. Passersby barely noticed the man moving with such unnatural exactness, lost in their own hurry to escape the rain.

As Jack approached the restaurant, his thoughts were a swirl of frustration and disbelief. He had once been an ordinary man, but now he was entangled in a high-stakes game orchestrated by an extraterrestrial entity. The irony wasn't lost on him—an alien controlling his hand and using him to develop a powerful new game engine while manipulating his life for its own purposes.

He reached The Big Plate BBQ, and there was Mark, waiting with a warm smile, oblivious to the turmoil Jack had just endured. Jack forced a smile and took a seat, trying to keep his mind off the chaos that had become his new reality.

Jack Connors, drenched and exhausted, continued his relentless pace through the torrential downpour. His lips whispered a steady count, "One thousand one hundred fifty-seven, one thousand one hundred fifty-eight, one thousand one hundred fifty-nine..." Each step was meticulously measured, each movement precise. The alien entity controlling his right hand, known as Ross, demanded nothing short of perfection.

Under Ross's harsh command, Jack's every misstep resulted in sharp, stabbing pain. This cruel training method pushed Jack's physical and mental limits. What seemed impossible in the past now unfolded as his potential was stretched to its extremes. At first, his accuracy was erratic, but soon, his steps were as consistent as if measured by a high-precision instrument, with deviations no more than a centimeter.

The relentless rain had turned the streets into small rivers, and most drivers slowed down, wary of skidding and causing accidents. But not everyone adhered to caution. A reckless driver, overconfident in his skills and perhaps impaired by alcohol, sped through the rain-slicked road at nearly double the speed limit.

As the car roared past, splashing pedestrians with dirty water, a grim scene unfolded. The driver lost control, veering into oncoming traffic. A truck, unable to avoid the out-of-control vehicle, collided violently. The car was catapulted into the air, spinning uncontrollably before crashing onto the sidewalk.

Nearby, a man named Leo Reynolds watched in horror. He was walking on the same sidewalk, his face pale as he witnessed the car spiraling just inches above his head. The truck crashed violently behind him, smashing into the metal railings with a deafening roar. The sheer proximity of the disaster left him paralyzed with fear.

Yet amidst this chaos, Jack Connors continued his calculated pace, seemingly oblivious to the calamity around him. The car had soared past him so close that he could have reached out and touched it, but Jack remained focused, his steps unperturbed.

To Leo, this was surreal. A man walking with unnerving calm through such a horrific scene defied all logic. How could anyone maintain such composure in the face of such danger? Leo's mind raced, struggling to reconcile the image of the man with the violent scene he had just witnessed.

Jack Connors, however, was not simply ignoring the world around him. His entire focus was consumed by the task at hand. Ross's demands had pushed him into a state of hyper-focus, filtering out everything but the precise execution of each step. The world's chaos, including the near-fatal accident, was nothing more than background noise to Jack's singular obsession with walking in perfect rhythm.

Ross, satisfied with Jack's progress, remained indifferent to the suffering it caused. Its focus was solely on ensuring that Jack's compliance was absolute, disregarding any human discomfort or fear. To Ross, the pain was a minor sacrifice in the pursuit of control and precision.

As Jack reached the end of his designated path, his steps still synchronized and perfect, Leo could only watch in stunned silence. The man who had seemed untouched by the disaster was now nothing more than a distant figure, continuing his unwavering march through the storm.

"Eleven thousand twenty-one…"

Jack Connors paused, finally stopping in his tracks.

The rain had been pouring for over an hour, and the sky remained a murky gray, visibility barely reaching a hundred yards.

The sign for "Big Appetite Buffet Grill" appeared in his view, and he seemed to wake from a trance, slowly coming back to his senses.

We've arrived?

He wanted to check with his companion, but after calling out a few times to "Commander Screw," he got no response.

Still asleep?

Jack let out a sigh of relief. With the strict control lifted, he was finally able to enjoy a small bit of normalcy. Though his time for such pleasures was limited, he treasured it all the more.

After walking for over an hour, Jack was extremely hungry. He hesitated for a moment before making his way into the buffet.

"Sir, how many in your party?" asked a young waitress as soon as he entered.

"Uh, my friend should be here already."

He scanned the room and noticed a solitary man sitting by the window—his friend, Jake Sullivan.

Jake, a twenty-five-year-old with black-frame glasses and a bit of a paunch, looked up from his phone, lost in thought.

"Jack, you're finally here?"

"Had a bit of a delay."

Jack put away his umbrella and sat down.

"Alright, we're doing a buffet tonight. Feel free to grab whatever you like," Jake said, immediately tossing several plates of food into the grill.

"The last time we caught up was ages ago," Jake remarked.

"Yeah, it's been a while," Jack nodded.

"So, what's new with you? Found a stable job or anything?"

Jake handed Jack a dipping sauce.

"Had a few jobs, but nothing worked out, so I quit and have been laying low. Opened a small diner to get by."

"You started a diner?" Jake looked surprised. "Not bad, you're doing alright to afford that."

"Depends on where it's located… well, it's a bit rough…"

Jack shrugged.

"Hey, owning your own place isn't too bad. At least you're not dealing with the stress of corporate life like us. You wouldn't believe the pressure in today's job market…"

Jake started venting his frustrations.

Jack listened, nodding along, while quickly helping himself to the food. By the time Jake noticed, Jack had already cleared the plates of their contents.

"Hey, save some for me, will you?" Jake joked, grabbing more food to add to the grill.

As Jake watched Jack devour the food, he set his chopsticks down. "Man, how long has it been since you've eaten?"

"What do you mean?"

Distracted by his meal, Jack barely registered Jake's question.

"I mean, you're eating like you've just emerged from a desert. Did you not eat for days?"

Jake couldn't help but laugh.

Buffets are meant to be all-you-can-eat, but seeing someone devour plate after plate with such gusto was quite a sight. Jake was relieved it was a buffet; otherwise, the bill might have been astronomical.

"Alright, enough about my hunger. Let's get to the point. You didn't invite me out just for the buffet, did you?"

Jack set down his cup and focused on Jake. He didn't believe for a second that Jake would organize a dinner just to catch up.

"Well, actually, I do need to ask you for a favor."

Jake hesitated before continuing.

"A favor?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. A simple loan request didn't usually warrant a special dinner.

"Yeah, I need to borrow some money."

"How much?" Jack asked, bracing himself.

"Not a small amount—$10,000."

Jack's heart sank. His bank account had dwindled to just a few thousand dollars, and even without the right hand's drain, $10,000 was out of reach.

Seeing Jack's reaction, Jake seemed to get the hint and sighed, "Yeah, $10,000. Just what I need. Can't believe how expensive it is to get married these days. The in-laws are demanding a house before they'll agree."

"You're getting married?" Jack asked, surprised.

"Yeah. The bride's family insists on a house. I've already scraped together $150,000, but I still need another $50,000."

Jack gave a wry smile. "Sorry, Jake. I've had some issues lately, and I can't pull that much together."

"Don't worry. Even if you could give me $10,000, I'd still be short $40,000. I don't even know where to turn for that."

Jake seemed unfazed.

"Have you considered a mortgage?" Jack suggested.

"Ha, a mortgage…" Jake seemed reluctant to discuss it further and changed the topic. "Oh, by the way, we're having a high school reunion next Saturday. Are you coming?"

A high school reunion?

Jack thought for a moment. He had mostly forgotten his classmates, many names and faces blurred over the years.

"Why the sudden reunion?"

Jake shrugged. "We've been out of school for a couple of years now. It's a chance for everyone to reconnect and see if we can help each other out. It's not just about catching up; it's about seeing who can offer what."

Jack understood, though he hadn't fully entered the professional world yet. The need to network was something he hadn't considered.

"I don't think I'll go. I'd be surprised if anyone even remembers me."

Jack continued to eat, brushing off the idea.

"Come on, Jack. Don't tell me you're not curious about how things turned out. You had a crush on Lisa Carter, didn't you? Wouldn't you want to see how she's doing?"

Jake pressed, knowing exactly what would pique Jack's interest.

Lisa Carter. The name sparked a distant memory for Jack.

"Time, place?"

Jack put down his utensils, interested despite himself.

"Figured you couldn't resist. It's next Saturday at 7 PM at the Greenfield Hotel. I'll send you the details."

Jack felt a mix of emotions. Six years had passed, and while he no longer harbored the same feelings for Lisa, there was a complex mix of nostalgia and curiosity driving him to attend.