Snippet #2466499

Marcus leaned against the brick wall, taking a moment to catch his breath. His leg burned, the cut was still trickling blood. The burning in his leg didn't compare to the way his lungs burned. He had no idea how long he had been running, but he had put the crash a long ways behind him. He took a few more deep breaths, then began to jog down the street, wanting to put just a mile or two more behind him.

After another half hour on the move, Marcus finally came to a halt and began to figure out where he was. He was still in the industrial district, about 12 blocks from the river. Luckily for him, the fog was thick and the streets empty, or the police might have already found him. He had seen a few squad cars out on the streets, using searchlights to try and spot him through the fog. He had managed to hide from them, but he knew he couldn't be lucky forever. He'd have to stack the odds in his favor. First things first, he had to get rid of the orange jumpsuit he was wearing.

After a bit of searching, he had found a small convenience store. The building was a small, mom and pop type shop, a place where the warehouse and dock workers could go and pick up a snack on break and beer on the way home. With any luck, they'd carry some clothing as well. Marcus walked up to a window, peering inside, trying to spot any cameras. There didn't appear to be any, and the store was closed up for the night. Marcus went around to the back of the store and located the delivery door. It was just a simple wooden door, with only a deadbolt on the inside. Luckily for Marcus, the door swung inward. He planted a kick to the door slightly above the handle, and was met with a satisfying crack. He kicked the door again, this time planting his foot in the square center of the door. The door flew open, leaving an small chunk of wood on the frame, held in place by the lone deadbolt. He allowed himself a quick grin of triumph and made his way into the store.

Marcus walked the few isles of the store, grabbing things he needed to patch up his leg. The store had a roll of gauze, and an ace bandage wrap. The store didn't have any rubbing alcohol or iodine, so he grabbed a small bottle of vodka from behind the counter and went into the store's small rest room. He stripped off his jumper and threw it into the trash. He wiped off the cut with a wet paper towel, and grabbed the bottle of vodka. He took a swig and then poured the rest of the bottle of liquor onto the wound. The vodka burned like hell and Marcus couldn't help but grimace a little. he wiped off his leg once more, then wrapped it in the gauze, and then the ace bandage over that. Once his patch job was done, he went back into the store.

The store didn't sell any clothes, but Marcus found some in a locker in the back room. There was a pair of jeans, a grey tee-shirt, a pair of work boots, and a tan canvas jacket. He quickly got dressed and went back into the main store. He quickly packed a small meal into a plastic sack and broke open the register. There was about $120 in assorted bills, which he promptly pocketed. Marcus grabbed two more bottles of booze, splashing them around the store. He grabbed a lighter from a shelf, lit it, and tossed it into an isle, which promptly caught fire. Satisfied with his handiwork, Marcus ran out the back of the store and into the thick fog that engulfed Triumph city once more.