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Hours passed. The ETA taunted him. 2 hours remaining . Then 5 hours . Then 1 day .

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Marcus sat back. He knew the rules of the game. He was a leecher right now, a parasite taking from the swarm. He needed to be patient. He prepared for the long haul. He brewed a pot of coffee so dark it could be considered a solid. He dimmed the lights. The only illumination in the room came from the monitor, casting a blue glow over his face like a digital baptism.

The percentage climbed. 50%... The pilot was his. 70%... He had the episode with the forgery. 90%... The season finale was inbound. 2 hours remaining

"No," Marcus snapped, cutting him off. The people in line behind him shifted uncomfortably. "You don't get it. Streaming is ephemeral. It’s a wisp of smoke. One day it’s there, the next it’s gone—poof—licensed to some obscure platform in Latvia. I need to own it. I need to download it, Tyler. I need to archive the bromance."

The clerk, a teenager with a name tag that read 'Tyler' and an expression that read 'I don't care', popped a bubble of gum. "The WD Elements is on sale. Two terabytes."