People were still queuing up at the cash counter. As Holm waited, he found himself observing the cashier closely.
The young man appeared to have been in this job for a long time. His movements were smooth, performed in a well-practiced rhythm, making him look highly efficient. Throughout the process of checking out customers and chatting, his eyes remained calm, and his voice maintained a steady, uninterested tone. It was clear nothing could stir his emotions—traits often seen in veteran workers.
This level of detachment wasn't surprising to Holm. Only someone with a lot of experience and little fear of consequences would risk breaking the law by selling alcohol to minors.
Holm didn't doubt for a second that the cashier was charging minors a "handling fee" for such transactions. For someone in a low-paying job like his, those extra earnings must have been a welcome bonus.
Before long, it was Holm's turn. He stepped forward and placed two overflowing baskets of snacks and chocolates on the counter.
The cashier, despite his usual indifferent demeanour, raised an eyebrow at the sight of the two full baskets. He gave Holm a quick, appraising glance before getting to work, the beeping sound of the scanner filling the air as item after item was checked out.
After several minutes, the cashier totaled everything and told Holm the amount. Holm handed over the money and waited, though not without a tinge of impatience. He missed the convenience of mobile payments from his previous life and the efficiency of simple maths. Here, he had to wait several minutes just to receive his change, and even then, it wasn't guaranteed to be correct.
[A/N: Ummm….Bro could've paid by card…]
While Holm waited, Gwen Stacy entered the line and queued up behind him, a small basket in her hand. Holm glanced back, more out of habit than curiosity, but noticed there was no alcohol in her basket—no items that minors were forbidden to buy.
Perhaps Gwen, mindful that he was also in the store, had decided not to buy the alcohol after all. Getting caught in such a situation might have made her think twice, given the potential consequences for both her and the cashier.
"I didn't buy any alcohol," Gwen suddenly muttered, as if Holm's glance had prompted her to explain.
"What?" Holm didn't quite catch what she said. He could only see her looking at him, her lips moving.
"I said, I didn't buy any alcohol," she repeated, this time with a firmer voice, locking eyes with Holm.
Holm blinked in mild surprise, unsure of how to respond. After a brief pause, he gave a half-hearted nod. "Well, that's good," he said, though his tone was anything but encouraging.
His perfunctory response, delivered with a hint of sarcasm, left Gwen momentarily stunned, her cheeks flushing with inexplicable anger.
She didn't understand why Holm's words affected her so deeply. After all, they were strangers who had only met twice. But something about his dismissive tone grated on her nerves.
The cashier, overhearing their awkward exchange, quickly pieced together why Gwen hadn't bought alcohol this time—she'd run into an acquaintance. Unfortunately for him, this meant no extra "handling fee" today.
"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath. In his frustration, he lost track of where he had left off counting the change and had to start over.
Seeing the cashier pat his head and fumble with the money again, Holm sighed in frustration. This world is his home now so he might as well get used to things like this.
"Sorry for the delay. Here's your change," the cashier finally said, as he was about to hand Holm the money. But before the exchange could be completed, a sudden shout cut through the air.
"Everyone! Don't move at all! Give me all the money!"
The loud, aggressive voice startled the cashier so much that he fumbled with the change, scattering it across the counter. A few coins rolled off, lost somewhere on the floor.
A burly man, his face concealed by a black hood that left only his eyes and nose exposed, pointed a gun at the cashier. "Hurry up! F***ing move!" he yelled, his voice laced with rage. "Put all the money in a bag, or I'll blow your brain out!"
The cashier paled instantly, his hands trembling as he complied, hastily stuffing bills from the register into a plastic bag. He had good reason to be afraid—his predecessor had reportedly been shot in a similar situation.
Seeing the cashier obey, the robber turned his attention to Holm and Gwen, waving his gun at them aggressively. "You two! Hand over everything valuable! Don't make me use this!"
Holm found himself in a surreal state of calm. In his past life, he had never faced something like this, but since being reborn in this chaotic world, it seemed these types of incidents happened frequently. New York City was certainly living up to its reputation, with even its crime rates standing out.
"That bastard is trying to steal our chocolate!" Venom growled in Holm's mind, its voice a mix of fury and excitement. "I'll tear his head off for this!"
To Venom, any attempt to take Holm's money was equivalent to stealing the chocolate they had worked so hard to buy. And for Venom, chocolate was a serious matter.
Despite the symbiote's eagerness, Holm remained composed. "Calm down. This isn't the time to expose yourself. There are too many witnesses here," he said, quelling Venom's bloodlust.
Reluctantly, Venom backed down, its excitement deflating into sulky frustration.
"Hey, man, just give him your wallet," the cashier whispered to Holm nervously, his hands still stuffing bills into the robber's bag. "It's not worth dying over."
The robber, growing impatient with Holm's lack of reaction, fired a shot into the ceiling, causing debris to rain down. "Move it! Give me your damn wallet! Now!" he shouted, the gun now levelled directly at Holm's chest.
Holm smiled calmly. "Okay, okay, relax," he said, his voice soothing as he slowly moved a hand toward his waist. "I'll give you the money. No need to get jumpy."
"Wait! Don't move! I'll take it!" the robber snapped, his sharp eyes fixed on Holm's hand.
Holm froze, standing still as the robber edged closer, keeping his gun trained on him. "Don't try anything funny, or I'll put a bullet in you," the robber growled, his voice low and menacing.
Behind Holm, Gwen's body tensed, her eyes locked on the approaching robber, readying herself for the moment to strike.
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