The System's Hold Over Me

Two days later...

Mr. Sim paced and looked around the convenience store while he carried a broom; he just finished sweeping the break room. Tranquil and quiet moments like these gave him time to appreciate the fruit of his efforts, his own convenience store. For most of his life, he was aimless and wasted because he spent the majority of his youth fooling around.

It wasn't until the age of forty-eight that he turned his life around; he took out a loan with the help of his siblings and put all his money into establishing a small convenience store, which turned out to be a huge success.

Mr. Sim clutched his chest; just a single heart attack turned his life around. He was about to sweep the floor until someone knocked at the glass door.

"Good morning, Mr. Sim," Frizz greeted and waved.

"Frizz..." He approached the glass door and unlocked it.

"You're actually early; that is a rarity," Mr. Sim remarked as Frizz just sheepishly smiled and chuckled, trying to avoid eye contact as he entered.

"Please turn off the computer in the break room; I think I forgot to turn it off."

"Yes, sir." Frizz hurriedly entered the break room.

(He seems happier lately.) Mr. Sim mused.

Ten minutes later...

Frizz smiled as he used the break room computer. Mr. Sim had told him earlier to turn it off, but work wasn't going to start until 8:30, and he might as well have fun while waiting. 

sigmaballs1999: super strength with no super bones will severely fracture your knuckles, red hair!

redhairchainsawlover: @gojosatorz if you punch a wall, would you cry?

gojosatorz: nah, i wouldn't

-- last message 11:32 pm

frizzsoda: hey, @sigmaballs1999 thank you for the telekinesis lesson. I finally have a grasp of effectively using it <3 <3 

frizzsoda: in my story, i mean.

sigmaballs1999: no problem, i'd love to read it some time :O :O o_0

"Frizz! Please fill the refrigerators. It's almost time!" Mr. Sim ordered Frizz.

"Yes, Mr. Sim!" Frizz shouted as he logged out of his Fishbook account and turned off the computer.

Three hours later...

Frizz tinkered with the problematic cash register again, trying to see the cause of the issue but still couldn't find it. He put his hands up and gave an exasperated sigh.

"You're Frizz, right?" A middle-aged woman asked Frizz as she placed a bottle of water on the counter.

"Yes...?" he replied as the face of the middle-aged woman brightened up.

The video that showed two burglars tied up became a very brief sensation in Frizz's town. He was hardly in the video, but it still mentioned him catching the two burglars.

Today, during his mundane cashier shift at the convenience store, the house's owner—a teacher—recognized him from the viral video of the incident. She thanked him profusely and even bought him a hotdog bun with soda as a token of gratitude before leaving.

"I hope there are more people like you," the middle-aged teacher said to Frizz as she left.

Frizz barely had time to enjoy the feel-good moment when Mina, his coworker, started throwing him odd glances, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"Do you need something?" Frizz snapped, breaking the silence.

"Nothing," Mina replied, though her tone betrayed her curiosity. She turned back to wiping the window panes. "I was just surprised, that's all," she replied as she whistled a tune.

Frizz studied her for a moment, certain she wanted to say more, but he didn't care enough to press or inquire. Mina had branded him a pervert once before for allegedly peeping on her through a hole in the wall. So he hardly ever cares about her nowadays.

The entrance bell jingled, signaling a customer. Mina perked up and greeted them, but Frizz froze. It was someone he knew, a close friend from high school, someone he hadn't seen in years.

"Hey, Mill!" Frizz waved, a broad smile spreading across his face.

"Frizz? Frizz Jay Sadies?" Mill returned the smile as he walked up to the counter. "It's been a long time."

Frizz offered his hand for a shake. "It really has been a long time."

Four minutes later...

The two friends sat outside the store, clinking their beer cans in a nostalgic toast.

"You're back; are you planning to live here again?" Frizz asked.

"No, that's not it. I just thought about visiting here; I got some old memories here anyway." Mill stretched his back.

"How long has it been?" Frizz laughed as he leaned his back against the wall.

"Maybe six years?" Mill guessed, staring at the cloudy sky.

"Last I heard, you took up boxing. Is that true?" Frizz asked, opening another can.

"Sure is," Mill said with a grin, throwing a playful jab at the air. "Boxing's my dream job."

Frizz smiled, memories of their younger days flooding back. "Good for you, man. I always thought it was just a hobby. Didn't expect you to go all in."

"Neither did I," Mill admitted. "Not until I won my first official match. Made a nice roll of cash betting on myself, too."

"Wait, isn't that illegal?" Frizz asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mill shrugged. "Only if you get caught." He flashed a cheeky grin, forming an OK sign with his hand. "I bet around four months' wages, and it doubled. That one bet changed everything."

Frizz chortled, slamming his beer can on the table. "Still a risk-taker, huh? Congrats, man."

"What about you? What've you been up to?" Mill asked, his tone casual, though the question visibly stiffened Frizz.

Frizz gestured toward the convenience store behind them. "Not much. Just working here. Still trying to figure things out." He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

Mill studied him as his eyebrows slightly furrowed. (Still looking for a purpose, huh?) he thought to himself but decided not to comment.

Instead, Mill brightened and perked up. "Hey, why don't we catch up more? My coach's gym is near the market; remember that place?"

"Out of all the spots, you want to meet at that old gym?" Frizz teased as he repeatedly swapped a beer can from his left hand to his right hand.

"Come on, drinks are on me," Mill said, draining his can. "Besides, I still owe you a rematch in arm wrestling."

Frizz chuckled, staring off into the distance. "That was ages ago. Forget it. But fine, if drinks are on you, then why not?"

"Deal," Mill said, adjusting his jacket. "I've got something to do first, but I'll meet you there later this night." With that, he hopped onto his motorcycle and sped off, leaving Frizz with a warm feeling in his chest. He hasn't felt this in a long time; he and Mill used to do things together. However, they had to move due to several issues.

(It's been too long), Frizz thought, though his moment of peace was interrupted by the sharp glare of Mina through the windows. He waved her off, silently promising to get back to work as soon as possible.

Later that evening...

As Frizz locked up the store and prepared to leave, he spotted Mina fiddling with the cash register.

"Mr. Sim said to leave it because even he was frustrated about that. He'll send someone tomorrow," Frizz told her before heading out.

"Okay," Mina replied blankly.

Mounting his electric-bike, Frizz's heart skipped a beat when he caught sight of a familiar face in the distance: Baron. The memory of their last encounter sent a chill down his spine.

Baron, followed by two men, passed by Frizz, his gaze as menacing as ever.

"Okay, be calm. He doesn't know that it was you." Frizz took a deep breath as he straightened his clothes. (He's still mad about what happened.) Frizz instinctively ducked his head and pedaled away as fast as he could, trying not to make a big profile.

Baron paused to look back with an inscrutable expression and watched Frizz pedaled away. One of his men finally spoke up. "You know that guy?"

"That's the store clerk, right?" Another one of his men remarked.

Baron didn't answer immediately; his jaw tightened as he recalled waking up from a recent raid. Him drenched in sweat, with a bloody nose, and two of his guards in pain and terrified.

"Bryan said something about back then... something that stuck even if it was hooey," Baron muttered.

"About the floating things?" one of his men asked, quietly observing Baron's expressions.

"Never mind. Let's keep moving."

The men exchanged glances, confused, but followed Baron as he continued to walk with an audible grinding of his teeth.