We’ve seen Sugar Diablo before.
Her stomach growls. Bank account status: low. Patience: none, as usual.
Time for a heist.
Clock out time at the library. Sugar Diablo lugs her bag over her shoulder, strap slotting between her cleavage. “Ugh” she thinks. “Guys love these things but they don’t have to lug them around.” Two minutes later she’s out the door.
On the bike. Screw the helmet. She’s on her way. Target Lock: You Seasons Market. Port City’s fanciest grocery store. Pizza. For the taking. On the earbuds: The Tremelo Beer Gut. Denmark’s finest. The city blocks go by seamlessly, like a dream. Sun shining, kids in the park. Cars on the street. Everything’s normal, just fine. She’s pedaling slow, the breeze tossing her curly locks. There it is. You Seasons Market.
Bike: Locked. Through the front door. Cart. She tousles her curly black hair. Act normal. It’s a heist.
Walk around, just like normal. Eggs, of course. When you’re shoplifting the price doesn’t matter much. Cabbage. Chips.
It’s a heist.
Sugar sidles up to the deli. The pizzas are out, hot and begging for it. She takes a plate. “Do I pay for this here?” The friendly person in the chef hat answers. “No, you do that up front.” Sugar nods. The unspoken agreement is management is currently trying to kill all their workers and replace them with Roombas with googly eyes. It’s all over the news. “The friendliest store in town.” She says. A smile.
Two pieces… something with vegetables on, partially. She’s looking around. No one stops her on the way to the deli seating area. Two slices. What else? A coke.
There’s cans over there. She walks over and gets a diet. Eyes sharp, no one seems to be watching. Chew chew.
It’s a heist.
It doesn’t take long. Two slices down. Why not a third? She goes back to the counter. Act normal. Everyone does this. Slice three. Plate in the bus bin, can in the recycling.
It’s a heist.
A look around. She can feel the cuffs on her wrist. No one else can see them. Sidle by the seafood counter, these guys really are the friendliest people in town. Through the produce section. No mushrooms for her today.
Self checkout, heh. Self checkout indeed. Scan scan. Before you know it, she’s out the door and a free woman, somehow.
It was a heist!
Pedal, pedal. Home. Lock bike. She turns around, smack into Shadowy Figure, again. What is with this guy? Prepare eye laser attack.
Shadowy Figure’s eyes are barely visible between the wide brim of his slouch hat and exaggerated black topcoat. “Sugar Diablo.” He hisses. “What have you been up to this time?”
