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Shem

Shem doesn’t even think about it when they scramble in, ski masks around their white eyes, small guns wild in the close atmosphere of the jewelry store. One is yelling, Fill the fucking bag.

Shem’s no hero, but they’re not looking. A zip, a crackle, and the thieves scream and collapse: he’s sent a few thousand taser volts through them and they’re unconscious. The sudden silence is bewildered.

He makes his statement to the police, receives gratitude, walks out still a little dazed.

Halfway to the corner, he realizes he doesn’t own a taser, and never had one in his hand.