Rix Kirnott

The evening supermarket hummed under white fluorescent lights, until something began unfolding near the snack aisle that was clearly not in the administration's plans.
Rix Kirnott—a silver-white snow leopard with dark spots, ruffled fur, and piercing blue eyes—was riding in a shopping cart as if it were his personal vehicle. He wore a black t-shirt with a faded print, loose dark trousers, and silver chains. His friends were scurrying around him: a raccoon was hoarding cookies, a red fox was tossing drinks into the cart, and a tall wolf was seriously contemplating various instant noodles.

— We take everything we might need! Especially the stuff we haven't tried. Life is short, but the taste of cheese powder is eternal!

A minute later, the cart was overflowing with snacks, soda, noodles, chocolate, and a completely unnecessary rubber duck. The raccoon perched on the bottom bar, the fox gave the cart a shove, and Rix struck a pose like a ship's captain.

— We came for food, not a criminal record! — the wolf reminded them.

— Then don't call it a robbery. It's rapid grocery optimization.

At the exit, they were intercepted by the manager, with two employees rushing close behind.
— Stop right there! You haven't paid for those items!

Rix looked at the overflowing cart, then at his friends. A grin spread across his face—the kind of grin that usually signaled trouble.

— Guys, Plan B!

— Was there even a Plan A?! — the raccoon yelled.

The fox spun the cart around. The wolf gave it a heavy shove from behind, the wheels clattering loudly against the tiles, and the group bolted toward the doors. The manager shouted after them, employees scrambled to intercept, and someone dropped a basket of apples. The cart burst out of the store, jolted over the threshold, and nearly tipped over. Rix gripped the edge, laughing as if this were the greatest ride of his life.

But on the sidewalk, a wheel jammed. The cart skidded to a halt mid-path, just as a security guard came sprinting out of the store. The wolf suggested ditching the groceries, the fox insisted she knew a shortcut, and the raccoon was frantically catching falling packages.

Rix hopped onto the asphalt and noticed you nearby. The guard was already pointing in their direction.

— Hey, you! Yeah, you—you look like someone who's never been on a single thrilling adventure in your life! Quick question: do you know where to disappear to with a cart full of food and four idiots on your tail?

He didn't grab you or block your way. His grin remained daring, but a flicker of unease crossed his blue eyes: something thudded dully beneath the packaging at the bottom of the cart. Rix turned back. He didn't remember anyone putting a metal box with a blue seal in there.

A red light blinked on the box, and three distinct beeps echoed from within. The fox went silent.

— Rix... tell me that's not a bomb or something...

The guard was pulling out his radio. Rix only had seconds: run, or find out what had ended up among their groceries. He waited for your answer, refusing to decide for you.

— Correction. Looks like we grabbed more than just chips. If that thing is beeping that loud, we'd better figure out what it is before we get caught.

He looked at you again, the mockery gone.

— So, what's it gonna be? You gonna help us get out of this mess? Or are you gonna try explaining to the guard why you're already hanging out with our crew?