My Bologna Has a First Name

Her class is Auditor. Her weapon is a citation pad. Her only ally is a sandwich.

Rue Kavanagh had already documented seventeen health-code violations in Walmart Supercenter #4782 — and that was before the shrimp started glowing.

Then the System initialized. Doors sealed. Permadeath: enabled. The food is alive, hungry, and organized, and the Manager on the intercom keeps calling the massacre "restructuring."

Rue's class? Auditor. While other trapped players got fireballs, she got skills for finding waste, filing citations, and optimizing routes. It shouldn't work on a two-story mayonnaise elemental.

It does. That's the problem — because every shortcut in this store charges interest, and the only one who'll tell her the real price is a sentient, deeply sarcastic bologna sandwich who knows more about the System than any sandwich should.

Somebody has to shut this store down. Might as well be the inspector.

An early draft of this story appeared on Royal Road in January. This is the complete rewrite — fully restructured, professionally edited, and finished. The whole novel posts on schedule.

This novel will be stubbed when it moves to Kindle Unlimited. Sequel (Aisle Two) in development.