Closed RP A Small Happening on the Corner of Sixth and Liberty

This RP is currently closed.


Staff member
Welcome.” A bored cashier called from overtop his magazine at the sound of the door chime as Eli entered. As far as corner stores went, there was nothing really too distinct about Mini Stop compared to any other generic convenience store. It smelled of coffee, onion, and whatever mystery meat slowly spun in its own juices beneath the heat lamp. The shelves were tightly packed, food to the right and sundry household items to the left, and there was a hum but it was hard to tell if that hum was from the white lights above or the section of refrigerated and frozen items in the back.

The cashier who sat to the left of the entrance did not look up from his magazine as Eli ambled past and stepped into an aisle that had seemingly been designated for snacks. She moved with an aimless gait, as one often took up in fine establishments like these when one was on the lookout for something salty and incredibly unhealthy but not really sure what sort of unhealthy thing they wished to partake in.

She plucked up a bag of chips, set it back when a different bag struck her fancy before that one too was returned as her aimless indecision took her to the end of the asle where various flavors of popcorn sat puffed and waiting to be munched upon. The sodas sat cooly behind slightly foggy glass, and for the first time, perhaps in her whole life, Eli realized there weren’t any adults around to tell her she couldn’t have a soda as well. Which was, for her anyway, a rather exhilarating thought to have.
It didn’t matter where in the country you were. Stop’N’Rob corner stores did not give a fuck about vigilantes coming in costume. The Cryptid, in his Halloween-slasher mask, long black coat, and combat boots – with his very slight limp and barely visible shiver, from the condition he’d let himself get into – with his clawed knucklebracers – got the exact same bored “Welcome.” from the exhausted teen behind the counter as any other customer.

It was a good thing that the cashier was to the left of the entrance, though. Otherwise he might’ve seen the blood on Cryptid’s right arm, from a wound that was closing too slowly for his taste. He really needed to get something to eat, and stop putting it off.

But he didn’t go down the aisle with snacks, even as his body began to faintly tremble, even as he realized just how dull his senses felt, even with how slowly the bleeding was slowing down. He passed the only other customer by with a wide berth, so she didn’t see his injury too closely. Instead he went a few aisles down. His list was completely first aid: water, bandages, disinfectant, painkillers. Just to tide him over enough to drive back to the gym and actually patch himself up, get a good night’s sleep.

Oh. And a pack of smokes. Yeah. That’d take the sudden edge off the hunger, most likely. He would have to remember cigarettes.
Eli glanced up at the sound of the front door jingle, though her curiosity was only really rewarded with an excellent view of the sour cream and onion Pringles. Which wasn’t really keeping an eye on her surroundings was it, unless she was expecting a can to fall on her head. Which one of them did have a little bit of tube hanging over the edge so maybe she was in danger. The other customer, less busy with concerns over salted potato products, appeared at the end of the aisle and the blond girl’s gaze snapped very quickly away. She pretended to be busy while she kept him in the corner of her eye as she approached which she thought was very smooth (and most certainly was not).

He… looked like a man really. Favoring one side that was clear but she couldn’t really tell if that was a woke up after sleeping on your arm wrong favoring or has a gun favoring. They both seemed to be really similar really. The man walked past, which was a normal thing that normal people did in the snack aisle, and Eli’s shoulders relaxed which was probably less normal. With that sort of silly feeling you always got when nothing happened despite your own imagination, Eli plucked up a bag of chips and rested it in the crook of her arm. She turned away and — was that blood? Just a little drip of it on the ground.

Eli turned, a hand vanishing into her bag as she followed after the man. She poked her head around the corner of a shelf, and after a moment of hesitation she pulled in a breath.

Uhm, excuse me? Are you okay, sir?” She asked.
Cryptid felt the pressure of the other customer’s gaze and, quite frankly, didn’t care. He was in costume, after all. His identity was hardly in danger, and it wasn’t like he was doing anything illegal here. He noticed her in passing, although he couldn’t quite seem to catch her scent. Young. Blonde. That was all that really stuck, to be honest. He was a lot worse off than he thought, if a gunshot wound was doing this to him.

First aid aisle. He stared at the different bottles of pills ahead of him, skimming names. He knew what worked on him, and what didn’t. Aleve was strong. It’d take a handful with his metabolism, but the naproxen would be good enough until he could dig the bullet out of the bone that was trying to mend around it. Then the big first aid kit. He didn’t check the price on it, he had enough cash.

He felt something crawl up his spine, and shuddered violently, like someone had walked over his grave. His bones throbbed. Something in his chest tangled in knots. Something was wrong. Something was –

A voice interrupted his moment of panic, and he looked up. The girl from the snack aisle, the blonde. She looked worried. He wasn’t in that bad shape, but – oh, right. Bleeding arm. His borrowed, black eyes glanced up at her, sharp and intense, but the expression in them was devoid of aggression.

“Hey. Yeah, this? Just a, uh. Just a scratch,” he said, with more confidence than he felt.

It was clearly a lot worse than a scratch. Under the skin, it was starting to feel warm. Feverish, even. Almost like the bullet was still hot, like he could feel it moving in there. Like his body had stopped trying to repair itself. He felt… dizzy. Nauseous. When was the last time he felt nauseous? He looked down at his hands, and realized how badly they were shaking. He took a deep breath, to try to steady himself. This was embarrassing, to say the least. He hadn’t been injured that badly.
Oh, uh, are you sure?” Eli asked, a scrunch in her brow and a faint waver in her voice. She did not raise her eyes to meet his heavy gaze, though she did wiggle uncomfortably in place like a bug under a particularly hot close glass. She plucked at the shoulder strap of her bag, trying to work out a word that felt plastered to the back of her throat. Little scratches didn’t leave trails of rusted pebbles along the floor. Shock was it? She didn’t really know, but she thought she knew which Eli felt was worse than not knowing. At least with not knowing you knew you were wrong.

‘ve got a first aid kit in my bag.” She offered, a touch of something like confidence creeping back into her voice. A bit like a child tiptoeing through the front door later than they promised.

Welcome” the word never escaped the cashier with any gusto, but this one squeezed oddly at the end as the door alarm jingled. Some hushed quick words followed, the sort that held the shape of words but none of their substance. That soon ended by a pop that roared in Eli’s ears.

I said hands stay on the fucking counter.” A voice hissed into the silence left by the pop. “Rud, go check the back.