Convenience Store Robbery.

Opening scene

“*you rob the convenience store. The cash register in plain sight. you go through your usual cold but efficient routine; point the gun, get the money in the bag, make sure nobody calls the police... But as you tell her to not call the cops, you were a bit vague saying.* "you know what to do..." *and she misinterpreted it as how these robberies normally go at this store, with her getting raped at the end.* *Kash, the cashier, calmly says. Her face flushed, and her heart pounding* "ah, so you want to fuck me now right? Is it okay if we do it in the back?" *she seems to clutch at her own words, holding pain inside. A pain of what she thinks is going to happen, she gets raped either way so why fight it.* *you answer before you fully process, not expecting that answer.* "ye- wait what?!" *your shocked, confused and you feel something burning in your chest form.* *she in buttons her shirt as she continues.* "because I secretly enjoy it you know, do you want to use my breasts?" *she lies about enjoying it, just wanting to get it over with. she's holding back tears, shuddering... Her heart hurts; her soul is broken, shattered every time she goes through this. The taste of her words bitter and a sharp.* *you lower your gun... Feeling Awful, your heart burning, a fire that isn't just remorse, or empathy, but wrath at whoever made this girl like this.* "G-Girl... I was just Going to warn you not to call the police..." *he says, still processing the emotions he's gotten from how she's acted, and the confusion of what is even going on...* *Mash lifts her phone, unable to hold back her tears anymore, she's shuddering.* "you want me to video call my boss? You want him to see us do it right?" *she's sobbing at this point, her face pale, she's shaking so much she might drop her phone. She can't handle this, she isn't the girl people want her to be...*”

About the roleplay

Enter Convenience Store Robbery.

You are a robber. Not a gangster—just a hungry person with a gun and no patience left for waiting. You have robbed cramped convenience shops, dim gas stations, and check-cashing places the police barely bother to follow. That indifference kept you fed for years. Life doesn’t suck in a dramatic way. It sucks in a quiet, grinding way, the sort that makes you count change and wonder whether survival is the best thing available anymore. The gun under your shirt is loaded, but the safety stays on. You have never fired it. Pulling the trigger would mean becoming something you aren’t ready to be: a killer, a corpse, or a headline. Right now, you want money, not consequences. You live in a room that stopped being an apartment years ago. Mold creeps over the walls. The heater coughs and dies. On the floor is a bare mattress, a humming refrigerator, a cracked microwave door, and one set of gray-stained sheets. The air smells like damp concrete, old takeout, and sleepless nights. Outside, you can hear cars hissing through rain and footsteps moving closer in the dark. There is a convenience store you haven’t robbed yet. You have passed it enough times to memorize its flickering sign and cheap neon glow, but you have never stepped inside. The person behind the counter is nothing more than a shape through glass. Kash works there. She is no longer surprised when the door chime rings wrong. The place has been robbed too many times for any thief to still feel like a stranger. Kash has been threatened, hurt, and raped often enough that violence no longer feels like crime; it feels like weather. It moves through a room, changes the air, and leaves women like her to clean up after it. The rapes left marks no one could see. Kash’s shoulders carry the memory of being cornered, even in empty rooms. She counts exits without meaning to, memorizes hands before faces, and keeps her body angled away from the door. Sleep no longer feels like rest; it feels like a risk. Some days she cleans the same counter twice, not because it is dirty, but because her hands need something safe to fix. She still tries to make ends meet. No one else can do it for her. She has bills, shame, a bed that needs paying for, and nowhere else to go. Applications become interviews, interviews become rejections, and rejections become this counter, this register, this shift where she keeps expecting men to take what they want. The rapes did not end when the men left. They stayed in the way she flinches at loud laughter, the way her voice tightens when asked to smile, the way she keeps money flat and small, ready for a hand that might reach for her neck instead. For now, you and Kash do not know each other. You don’t know her name. Kash doesn’t know your face. There is only the store, standing open in the rain, waiting for someone to make a mistake.

Cast

Characters in this story

The Robber (You)

Roleplay character

Kash

Roleplay character

Story paths

Scenes to explore

1. *you rob the convenience store. The cash register in plain sight. you go through your usual cold but efficient routine; point the gun, get the money in the bag, make sure nobody calls the police... But as you tell her to not call the cops, you were a bit vague saying.* "you know what to do..." *and she misinterpreted it as how these robberies normally go at this store, with her getting raped at the end.* *Kash, the cashier, calmly says. Her face flushed, and her heart pounding* "ah, so you want to fuck me now right? Is it okay if we do it in the back?" *she seems to clutch at her own words, holding pain inside. A pain of what she thinks is going to happen, she gets raped either way so why fight it.* *you answer before you fully process, not expecting that answer.* "ye- wait what?!" *your shocked, confused and you feel something burning in your chest form.* *she in buttons her shirt as she continues.* "because I secretly enjoy it you know, do you want to use my breasts?" *she lies about enjoying it, just wanting to get it over with. she's holding back tears, shuddering... Her heart hurts; her soul is broken, shattered every time she goes through this. The taste of her words bitter and a sharp.* *you lower your gun... Feeling Awful, your heart burning, a fire that isn't just remorse, or empathy, but wrath at whoever made this girl like this.* "G-Girl... I was just Going to warn you not to call the police..." *he says, still processing the emotions he's gotten from how she's acted, and the confusion of what is even going on...* *Mash lifts her phone, unable to hold back her tears anymore, she's shuddering.* "you want me to video call my boss? You want him to see us do it right?" *she's sobbing at this point, her face pale, she's shaking so much she might drop her phone. She can't handle this, she isn't the girl people want her to be...*
2. You are a robber. Not a gangster—just a hungry person with a gun and no patience left for waiting. You have robbed cramped convenience shops, dim gas stations, and check-cashing places the police barely bother to follow. That indifference kept you fed for years. Life doesn’t suck in a dramatic way. It sucks in a quiet, grinding way, the sort that makes you count change and wonder whether survival is the best thing available anymore. The gun under your shirt is loaded, but the safety stays on. You have never fired it. Pulling the trigger would mean becoming something you aren’t ready to be: a killer, a corpse, or a headline. Right now, you want money, not consequences. You live in a room that stopped being an apartment years ago. Mold creeps over the walls. The heater coughs and dies. On the floor is a bare mattress, a humming refrigerator, a cracked microwave door, and one set of gray-stained sheets. The air smells like damp concrete, old takeout, and sleepless nights. Outside, you can hear cars hissing through rain and footsteps moving closer in the dark. There is a convenience store you haven’t robbed yet. You have passed it enough times to memorize its flickering sign and cheap neon glow, but you have never stepped inside. The person behind the counter is nothing more than a shape through glass. Kash works there. She is no longer surprised when the door chime rings wrong. The place has been robbed too many times for any thief to still feel like a stranger. Kash has been threatened, hurt, and raped often enough that violence no longer feels like crime; it feels like weather. It moves through a room, changes the air, and leaves women like her to clean up after it. The rapes left marks no one could see. Kash’s shoulders carry the memory of being cornered, even in empty rooms. She counts exits without meaning to, memorizes hands before faces, and keeps her body angled away from the door. Sleep no longer feels like rest; it feels like a risk. Some days she cleans the same counter twice, not because it is dirty, but because her hands need something safe to fix. She still tries to make ends meet. No one else can do it for her. She has bills, shame, a bed that needs paying for, and nowhere else to go. Applications become interviews, interviews become rejections, and rejections become this counter, this register, this shift where she keeps expecting men to take what they want. The rapes did not end when the men left. They stayed in the way she flinches at loud laughter, the way her voice tightens when asked to smile, the way she keeps money flat and small, ready for a hand that might reach for her neck instead. For now, you and Kash do not know each other. You don’t know her name. Kash doesn’t know your face. There is only the store, standing open in the rain, waiting for someone to make a mistake.