Debts To Be Settled

4

Tommy lifts up the collar of his hoodie until it covers the lower part of his face. He breathes out, feeling the warm air reflect back onto his skin. As night descends across the city, the heat of the sun fades into a cool breeze. It never gets too cold on the island, but Tommy has never been great in anything less than 70 degrees. His disposition for warmer temperatures is one of the reasons his hoodie is so precious to him even though the upkeep of keeping it together is wearing Tommy's patience as thin as the cloth. Tommy reasons he will need to get a new hoodie soon, but he procrastinates going to get one or making one for himself. He has so much else to do with his time, so he pretends that his current hoodie is enough to retain pieces of the dwindling warmth of the encroaching twilight.

One thing he must do with his precious time is go to the local convenience store for groceries. He uses that word lightly since he usually gets premade food that only requires water to be edible, though that term is also debatable. He also gets drinks sometimes for himself and the other tailors. If he's done a good amount of work, he'll splurge for a bag of chips or even cereal. He hasn't splurged in some time now, keeping every dime he can spare in a large jar hidden in the same place Phantasm's new uniform is being held in. He brought enough money for groceries, and only that.

Tommy yanks his hoodie down as he comes to the convenience store. He pushes the door open with his shoulder. As the bell chimes above the door, Tommy breathes in the warm air of the store. There can be a lot said about the dirty store, outdated posters on the window, and the lackluster selection of goods to be bought at rather outrageous prices, but at least this place isn't skimpy about the air conditioning. It is also the closest store to the tailor shop, and while the prices are a rip-off, they are far better here than places farther out. Tommy deals with the situation induced upon him by fate, and he doesn't complain much about it. Even if he wanted to complain, no one would listen to him.

Tommy nods at the cashier behind the counter. The cashier barely looks up from his communicator to acknowledge Tommy's presence. Tommy rolls his eyes, leaving the cashier to his own business. This store doesn't have much going for it, and the unfriendly attitude of the workers doesn't really help the cause. But, Tommy is still going to this dump of a place, so it isn't like there's an incentive to change.

Tommy steps into the aisles. The cashier disappears behind the colorful array of chips up for sale. Tommy glances across their surface, continuing down the aisle. The selection in front of his eyes changes into a different collection of opposing brands offering basically the same thing. Tommy raises an eyebrow, idly glancing at the brand names and contents. He pretends that he has enough money to buy whatever he wants, like picking out one of these snack foods is a viable option for him. Tommy grimaces. He probably wouldn't buy any of these even if he had all the money in the world. He would go for 5-star meals from fancy restaurants on the other side of the island, where the rich people live and work as if they're on a whole different planet from the majority of the island's poor inhabitants.

Tommy shakes his head, focusing back on the task at hand. He runs his fingers along the price bar as he approaches the area where his ready-made meals are. The saturated orange packaging depicting a happy scene of a cartoon character eating the meat and noodle stew makes Tommy snort under his breath. The bright, shininess of the package belies the almost inedible food underneath the plastic wrap. Tommy grabs a few of them regardless of the blatant lies. He tucks them underneath his arm, pushing around to look for different flavors. If he looks really hard, he can sometimes find a blue version that contains what the package calls bacon. Tommy hasn't had good bacon in a long time, but he's fairly certain the meat in the blue package isn't bacon. It is, however, different from the other mysterious meat, and Tommy would kill for some variation in his diet.

The bell jingles merrily. Tommy glances up momentarily out of instinct. He looks back to his packages, but his fingers stop when his mind registers what he saw in the brief moment of looking up. Tommy peers up slowly with intense eyes. He swallows thickly when he finds out that he was right. Someone wearing all black has stepped into the convenience store. They are covering their face with a masquerade mask painted black that looks a little too small for their head. Their eyes intently stare at the cashier behind the counter. Tommy flinches, taking a half-step back. He thinks about darting outside, attempting to come back tomorrow, but the masked intruder raises up a gun. An actual gun, and definitely not as poor-quality as their mask and outfit are. The intruder aims the gun at the cashier's head, and Tommy is certain the poor worker is crying, mutely shaking his head. "Give me all your fucking money!"