The streetlight flickered, and then went out, going back on after a few minutes. It was like this with many streetlights near the apartment building, no one had done maintenance on them for about three years. All the electricians and shit were entirely too scared of the street gangs who lived in the area, and the staff who were still alive had been too old. Some of them still lived in senior homes, and even an elderly couple had gone insane from the gloom and had been sent to an asylum. Not that Lilith cared, it was just that the lights seemed intent on letting her eyes adjust to the dark, and then flicker back on, blinding her. She was walking to a liquor store nearby her home, (because she had self-control and wouldn’t get hopelessly and utterly sloshed like somebody) and had stopped at an old bus stop to check the time. A light drizzle had formed a little before she left, and she had thought she could rush to the store, grab a bottle of rum (vodka if they had none) and hurry her ass home. Of course, once she had reached the stop, the drizzle had developed into a downpour. She cursed.

Not knowing what to do, Lilith pulled her hood down once more and ran the rest of the distance. It wasn’t far, so she was only in the rain for about thirty seconds. Still, it was enough for her hoodie to get soaked. She walked to the back, ignoring the creepy forty-year old clerk (probably new, considering she’d been here several times and she had never seen him before) who was staring at her lecherously. There she checked for her favorite brands and grabbed a 1.75L bottle of Bacardi that sat haphazardly on a dusty plastic shelf inside a fridge, leaning on some other bottles. A dust cloud rose as she picked it up and settled on her hoodie sleeve, causing Lilith to wrinkle her nose. She walked back to the cashier to pay for the bottle, taking out her wallet at the same time. The man leered and rang it up. “Thirty dollars, doll.” He was thin with his ribs showing, as many peoples were wen they were out on the streets, and definitely lying about the Bacardi, which was twenty dollars and always had been. Lilith wanted to smash his face in.

“What?” She hissed,” I don’t fucking think I heard you right, sir. A 1.75 Bacardi is twenty in this store, and the owner never changes his prices for it.” Mainly because he was one of her best clients for both hacking and info, but those were small details. “You heard right, doll. That beer is thirty dollars. Owner changed it last night.” Lilith grabbed his shirt with her right hand, slamming the other into the counter. “I happen to know the owner, pedophile, and you know what I think?” She pushed him so he stumbled and steadied himself on the the wall opposite. It wasn't hard, considering how much he probably weighed. “I think you’re trying to earn a bit extra, shit-ass.” A ten dollar bill was sticking out of his pocket, probably from some person who fell for the trick.

The clerk punched her on her jawline. For a scrawny man he was pretty strong. Up close she could see lean muscle, unlike the gunsmith she had seen to the other day. He wasn't messing around, either. Shit.