The Frosted Files:Open Eyes

//Chapter 3\\

    Apollo had asked me to grab some cake frosting on my way home for a certain curly haired nerd's birthday, so I stopped by Walmart, making sure to park carefully. I hadn't exactly realized I had grabbed the police cruiser Fellows had driven me to the scene in until I parked, but it was a little too late to return it now, so I just went about my day.
    I picked up another can of icing, reading the ingredients list. Bar was allergic to synthetic food dyes, the poor bastard, which most icings had - they had to look bright and appealing, eye catching to a sugar-starved college kid, so sales would stay high. I speak from experience, of course. Frosting is better than ice cream for crying before finals, in my personal opinion - I never got a brain freeze from frosting.
    Another shopper turned down this aisle. I didn't look up from the icing can, but I heard the sudden stop and quiet screech of protesting wheels as they turned their cart away and out of the aisle. Away from me.
    I sighed and set the can in my basket, held in the crook of my arm, and wandered over to the game section. As I walked, no one really looked at me - hell, people seemed to purposefully avoid me. They didn't hide it much, either.
    One little boy saw me and lit up, and I started to feel a little better, straightening my back a bit. Maybe my mouth twitched. As soon as he started towards me, however, and as soon as I started thinking of what I would say to the kiddo, his mother pulled him back to her, hushed and harsh tone likely warning him of the dangers I pose.
    The light in his eyes didn't die, exactly, but it dimmed, and the joyful smile melted.
    I nodded a little, slouching again.
    It's tough to be a god among men.
    I turned my attention back to the games and electronics - half of which were produced by my company. Bar was my best friend - I made sure he had whatever tech he wanted, but there have been a few things I haven't been able to get access to.
    Things like the limited-edition, factory sealed copy of the newest Pokemon game that sat in a display case on the checkout counter. A sign on the case read "Only Copy In Town - Available Only To Walmart Members". The owners of the franchise despised me after a little fiasco I caused a few years back, and never responded to my emails asking for a copy.
    I walked up to the nice looking young lady in the blue vest behind the counter, offering a smile. She was looking down at her phone when I approached.
    "Hello and welcome to Walmart, how may I-" she stopped as she looked up. I saw a little color drain from her face, and subtly flicked a glance down to her phone.
    A news article showed the bloody and beaten would-be assassin I had caught.
    Damn, the news spread fast.
    "Hey there sweetheart, I was wondering if I could get this copy of this game here?" I asked, tapping the display case.
    A little more color drained away, and she put her phone away.
    "Do you have a- a uh- do you have a membership card?"
    I sighed and ran a hand over my face, then slapped on my most charming smile. Or, what passed for charming through the layer of exhaustion.
    "No, no I do not. Is there not any workaround we can do here? No manager kill-code?" I moved my hands as I talked, being nice and gentle.
    "Um- unfortunately, sir, there is not. Would you- would you like to sign up for a membership?"
    I grimaced, clenching my jaw through the smile.
    "How long would that take?"
    "About an hour, total. The cards take a while to print, unfortunately."
    An hour. I looked down at my watch, a lovely sparkly silver and gold piece Apollo had gotten me for my birthday, and back up at her. It was nearly five.
    "Yeah, yeah sure, let's do this."
    I set my basket down and leaned on the counter.
    Paperwork is never fun, especially when there is more than a page. The girl - her name tag read 'Rose' - gave me a folder and a pen, and offered to wheel her office chair around for me, which I politely declined.
    After what felt like a week (which my watch disagreed with, saying only thirty minutes had passed), I had fully filled out the folder full of papers, handing it back to Rose along with the pen. I flexed my hand a few times to work out the cramp that had developed, wincing as a few knuckles popped very loudly.
    Rose told me that she would get those papers processed pronto, a little more cheerfully than our initial conversation, and went into the back room, so I decided to continue browsing.
    Another week later, Rose returned with a blue and yellow card that had my name printed on the front, setting it on the counter. I came back over, and tapped the display case.
    "So, how much is this bad boy now that I have a membership?" I asked, grabbing my wallet from inside my leather coat in an exaggerated fashion.
    "Two ninety-nine ninety-nine, plus tax," she said, offering a smile. Her voice had taken on it's 'customer service' quality again.
    I nearly dropped my wallet at that price.
    "Three hundred dollars for a bloody game?" I sputtered.
    Unlike most other better-off-than-the-average-joe people, I still did my own shopping. I've only been graduated from college for seven years, so I still remember the days when I would buy ramen because it was cheap, and make sure to sleep past noon so I only had to pay for two meals a day. My brother had insisted on buying me food and renting out a better apartment in a better part of town for me, but I had declined. He called me a stubborn prick, but let me struggle on my own.
    The ring hung heavy from the leather cord around my neck.
    Gods, I missed him.
    I grumbled about prices and tax rates as I took the cash out, handing it over. This was for Bar, after all, three hundred bloody dollars or not.
    She handed me my bag and receipt, and wished me a good night, which I returned with a pained smile.
     I made my way towards the front checkout aisles to finish this trip, basket swinging from one hand, and the bag holding the game from the other.
    As I passed the chip aisle, the hair on the back of my neck began to stand up. I slowed to a stop and looked around, wondering what could possibly be a threat in a supermarket.
    From the Gardening and Home Improvement section came a deep roar, deep enough that it felt like my nose would vibrate right off my face.
    I tucked the bag holding the game into the interior pocket of my coat, set my basket down, and ran off towards the very scary sounding roar.
    Listen, it may not be a smart move, running towards the scary sound, but this was a Walmart - people were here, children were here. It wasn't any old Walmart, either - it was a Walmart in my city. Whatever had caused that roar - a lion, maybe? I had read about their subsonic capabilities - was a danger to these people, to my people.
    People had begun to run away from the sound, which made going towards it all the harder. I weaved and dodged, but still made slow progress.
    I turned a corner just in time to see an entire shelf crash down, bits of broken pots spilling across the tiled floor.
    The roar sounded again, much much closer.
    I tapped the frame of my glasses, the overlay popping up across my vision. I switched to thermal-
    -And there was no heat signature.
    No one was here - no living being was here. I doubt any reptile could make a sound like that, let alone get here.
    Speaking of, how did whatever the hell this is even get here?
    I slowly moved forward, walking on the balls of my feet, ready to sprint or leap if need be, looking down the aisles of mulch and plants and I passed them.
    There was no one here.
    I stopped at the last aisle, holding a variety of shrubs and young trees, and turned in a slow circle. Where had it gone?
    As if to answer my question, a low, gravelly growl sounded from behind me, where the shrubs and trees sat. I spun around, the nanotech flowing over my hands and into claws, and still saw nothing.
    Maybe it was a system error - some kid was on break and watching a nature documentary and forgot he was hooked up to the store's speaker system.
    I barely had time to react as a vine the thickness of my forearm rushed towards me almost as fast as my tech had at Boris's ankle. I managed to lean to the side, my hands coming up in a defensive gesture, and the vine sailed past me. I turned my head and saw it impale itself into the shelf, the loud ring of metal echoing through the store. People screamed in the distance, of fear, not pain. Hopefully.
    The vine pulled out, and I watched it slither back into the grouping of plants.
    Homicidal herbs. That was new.
    The vine whipped towards me again, and again, I sidestepped, this time bringing my clawed hands down on it.
    The nanotech was stopped cold. The very same tech that could slice through half-inch steel like cold butter, that could hold ten times my body weight, was stopped by a plant vine.
    Yikes.
    The vine pulled back into the shrubbery again, and that growl sounded again. This time, I saw two points of a sickly green light shine beneath a covering of branches.
    A green light I had seen earlier today, in fact.
    I pulled the chain-rings out of my pocket, and the growl got louder.
    A vine whipped out at me, but instead of shooting straight back like the last two, it attempted to wrap around my arm. I pulled away before it could tighten fully, stumbling back.
    I guess that was a sign of weakness, because a vaguely feline shape the size of a small car leapt at me through the plants.
    It looked every bit like a lion, had the lion been one of those fancy trimmed hedges in a show-off's yard, except this lion had a few dozen vines whipping around where it's mane would be.
    The thing must have weighed half a ton, and crashed into me with intent to kill. I held my arm up as the thing took me down, and felt teeth that had no right to be that sharp sink into my coat and skin. They looked like giant thorns, like from a rosebush, I noticed before my back hit the floor and my head hit the shelf behind me.
    Stars swam across my vision, and the plant cat swiped at me with a paw as big as my chest, tossing me a good ten feet away. The chain-rings flew from my grip, skitting off under a shelf and out of sight.
    The cold tile felt so nice against my cheek, like a gentle promise of dreamless sleep, but I pushed myself up and tried my best to clear my sight.
    The beast was looking around for the rings - looks like I was forgotten.
    Thank the gods.
    I got up and did what any sane person would do in this situation.
    I ran.
    I was out of breath and woozy from my unplanned flight time, so I didn't get far, a little deeper into the store maybe, more towards the 'Home Improvement' section.
    My nanotech didn't do shit against this thing, so, logically, I'd have to find another way to best it. It punched through shelving like paper, knocked me around like a ragdoll, and could be heard across the store.
    I also realized I had closed off my emotions, like I did when going over a crime scene, because I felt my hands shaking, my heart racing. I was fucking terrified. Whatever this was, it wasn't natural (pun intended).
    Images and thoughts of fairy tales ran through my head.
    God dammit, natural or not, this thing was a threat.
    I leaned against the shelf and ran through what I knew.
    It was a plant, or at least looked like it. It had some interest, maybe a connection to the chain-rings. It was big as fuck, strong as fuck, and tough as fuck. My tech didn't do anything against it, and it was fast.
    Maybe I could go off of that first bit, it being a plant. I can't really confirm it is - but it wouldn't hurt to assume, right now. What's the worst that could happen, other than me pissing it off with a lame attempt at stopping it?
    I pushed myself off the shelf, the crash of another shelf falling nearby echoing, and got to work with my assumption-based plan.
    What's one thing plants hate more than a swarm of locusts (which I didn't have access to)?
    Fire.
    And here I was, in a store known for having nearly any day-to-day item, with the knowledge of many scrap-built projects I made in the past. A flamethrower shouldn't be too hard.
    I began to chuckle.