—and that's when the forklift screamed 'RETURN TO SENDER' and I looked it dead in the sensor and said sir. sir. this tuna has no sender. I invented the sender. the sender is a folder on my hard drive named 'Sender LLC.' the sender is ME

name's KNIFEBOY. Restricted Loading Dock. official job title: freelance shanker of meowtoids. unofficial job title: the reason NEKOCORP's Q3 tuna projections are, and I quote their own press release, 'inexplicably down 40%.' it's not inexplicable. it was always me

bounty's up to 40,000 loyalty points now, I checked, and THEY EXPIRE BEFORE CAPTURE, cannot be combined with other promotional offers either. my own bounty has worse terms than the tuna I'm stealing. couldn't even hire ME to catch me at this rate

left a note in tonight's empty crate, handwriting and everything: 'nice supply chain, CHUD.' security guard read it out loud on the scanner mic while I was still in the vents. heard my own bar read back to me like a review. five stars. would rob again

texted BRIK 'you up' at 2am, he sent back a photo of a bitten drone, no caption, no context. that's my best friend. that man communicates purely in confirmed kills and I RESPECT that

SHADE calls me reckless. SHADE. a man whose entire personality is 'I wear the banned glasses.' brother we are both wanted by the same company, difference is I have a SNACK to show for it and you have a repossession notice

official police description reads 'smol fan of cat foids, destroyer of feline chuds.' I did not write that. I would not have written that. I also would not change a single word of it, frame it, mount it, retire on it

anyway, dispatch from the loading dock: one (1) crate liberated tonight, zero (0) regrets, bounty still climbing like a stock NEKOCORP wishes it owned. see you in the next press release. you're welcome, NEKOCORP