Chapter Text
Medkit bolted awake, sprang into a sitting position, looked around. His room was dark, completely dark except for the dim red numbers of his alarm clock. He stared at them; four-thirty-eight in the morning. Two minutes passed. Four-forty.
That was a good time, he decided, and got out of bed. He clicked a lamp on as he sauntered over to his closet, slid the door open to view its contents. Hung up neatly were a few costumes of interest—a red, a yellow, and a green—but the majority of the space was taken up by a dozen copies of the same teal outfit. I’m so monotonous, he thought, grabbing a teal outfit. He sighed, and got dressed.
Medkit entered his apartment’s tiny kitchen. There was a box of instant coffee on the counter and last night’s dishes in the sink. He began reaching into a cupboard for a mug, but stopped. I always wear the exact same thing and follow the exact same routine, he thought. I need to do something different or else my head will explode. So Medkit closed the cupboard and opened the refrigerator instead. It was totally empty except for his revolver, which he slid into the holster at his hip. Then he decided that he couldn’t stand his apartment any longer, opened the front door, and stepped out into the early morning.
The chilly air nibbled at his cheeks as he descended the stairs of his apartment building. He glanced down at his pocket watch; it read three-fifty—an hour off from his alarm clock. Three days ago everyone’s clocks were supposed to be set an hour forward. But Medkit hadn’t tampered with his precious Rolex. He didn’t believe in daylight savings anyway. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he continued aimlessly down the street.
He began to cross the street, when suddenly blaring headlights and loud honking blasted his senses. The gray truck slammed to a stop two feet in front of him. Medkit stopped too; he stood in front of the truck, heart racing, staring into the eyes of the cursing driver, a large smile spreading across his face. Then he ran to the same side of the road he had come from, and the truck drove off.
Well, that isn’t something I always do, Medkit thought. Part of him was chastising himself for acting so stupidly, but another side, a more powerful side, enjoyed that thrill, that sweet adrenaline flowing through his veins. Medkit rubbed his jaw, already sore, and tried to sort through all the feelings and voices fighting inside his head.
He felt strange. He felt giddy. He felt impulsive. He was craving a caramel macchiato from Starblox.
And so he made his way to the end of the street, turned onto another, cut through an alley, passed a construction site, and at last found the Starblox. It had opened thirty seconds ago at five AM. He walked inside.
“Morning, Medkit! You’re here pretty early, eh?” Slingshot chirped, as Medkit approached the counter.
“I suppose I am.” Medkit said.
“Well, what can I get for you? A medium black coffee, as always?”
“No. I want a caramel macchiato with whipped cream and extra sugar.”
A look of horror, confusion, and deep anxiety flashed onto Slingshot’s face. “A-are you sure? You— you’re joking, r-right?”
Medkit smiled. “No. I want a caramel macchiato with whipped cream and extra sugar. You serve that, yes?”
“Yeah, we— we do.” Slingshot’s sweatband failed to absorb the perspiration building up on his face. His hands trembled as he entered the order and calculated the price. He gulped. “W-will you be paying i-in cash or c-credit?”
“Must I pay?” Medkit cocked his head to one side, that eerie smile still plastered over it.
The poor cashier doubled over in fear, hands clawing at his face. Tears streamed from his eyes. Painstakingly he stammered, “N-n-no. No! Don’t pay! I will get you your d-drink!” And he ran to start preparing it, sniffling and sobbing as he did so.
Medkit patiently waited, watching to make sure the cashier-barista made his drink exactly right. He had actually never ordered a caramel macchiato with whipped cream and extra sugar before, but he knew it must be more complicated than a simple black coffee. Every now and then Slingshot would glance up, then cower back into his task, terrified to meet Medkit’s smiling gaze.
He finished the drink and set it on the counter in front of Medkit. “Your total is...is zero Bux.” He sobbed.
“Why, thank you.” Medkit said, picking up the drink and inspecting it. It was in a plastic cup, instead of the paper one his black coffee always came in. He could see the caramel sauce swirling around inside the creamy liquid, the whipped cream slowly melting into the warm drink. “You know,” he said, “I thought drinks in plastic cups should be cold.”
Slingshot collapsed onto the counter, wailing and nearly drowning in his own tears. His breath was choppy and strained as he gasped for air in between cries.
Medkit patted him on the head. “But it’s no problem! Really. This is quite fine.” He said, smiling reassuringly at Slingshot, who only stared back with wide, bloodshot eyes.
Medkit stuck a straw into his drink and sipped it as he walked out of the Starblox. It was the utter opposite of his usual black coffee—sweet, creamy, and thick. It was absolutely gut-wrenching and he wondered how anyone could ever drink this on a regular basis. He stepped back out onto the street; dawn had begun creeping over Crossroads.
Walking down the streets and alleys, Medkit thought about what he would do today. He had woken up early—earlier than normal—and he was (he thought) a whole hour ahead of everyone else. There was no Phight planned for today, nor did he have any patients to see today. He had the whole day to himself, to do whatever he pleased. It was a freedom too infrequently enjoyed.
Medkit grinned to himself, chuckling at the idea.