“...were pronounced dead as Sonata Dusk crowned herself Tyrant King amidst the wreckage of Manehatten. The battle between the three has an estimated body count of one hundred thousand and rising. Further details―”

“Oh, they’re talking about me on the radio!” Sonata said happily before she glued her blood-soaked face back onto the glass shielding the grease rollers, her bloodstained hands pressed upon it as well.

The cashier was honestly more upset that they’d have to clean the shielding rather than at the sight of the mass murderer before them. Getting mad at her would be like getting upset at a tornado or a hurricane, they reasoned, so they directed their rage towards things they could control.

A groan escaped from the cashier’s throat. “Look, you’ve been staring at the food for like half an hour already. Could you please pick something so that you don’t chase away the customers?”

“Stuff it,” Sonata growled. “It’s like three in the morning. I doubt you’re getting any customers right now.”

She had been coming to this particular convenience store since before she and her sisters claimed dominion over the planet, and the pay clerk wasn’t exactly certain if she realized that she could literally empty the store without resistance. They weren’t about to remind her, though. Best to keep up rapport as if nothing had changed.

“Hm, okay,” Sonata piped up, “I’ll take like eight taquitos and, um…” she threw a home dry-cleaning kit on the counter, “this, and… um… oh yeah! A pack of smokes!” She giggled. “They really help take the edge off after a bloodbath.”

The cashier sighed as they put the taquitos and the cigarettes on the counter, upon which Sonata expertly opened the pack and pulled one out with her mouth.

“Oh yeah, ring me up for a lighter, too,” she said as she grabbed a lighter and lit the cigarette inside the store.

“Sonata, you’re not allowed to smoke inside.”

She inhaled deeply, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “I’m also not supposed to kill people.”

“Fair point,” the cashier said. They didn’t like it when she smoked inside because their manager would complain when he checked the store. “That’ll be thirty-four dollars and fifty-four cents. How will you be paying?”

Sonata reached into her pocket and pulled out a credit card. “I will be paying with,” she said as she examined it, “Hurricane Run’s credit card today.” She chuckled as she handed it over to the cashier. “I mean, I’m covered in his blood so he at least should be paying for the dry-cleaning kit, right?”

The cashier inhaled sharply as they ran the credit card through the machine, which accepted it. Thank goodness, too, because the smoke was getting on their nerves. They bagged her stuff and handed it to her.

Sonata took another drag of her cigarette. “Thanks.” She moved to exit the store, but paused as her hand touched the handle and looked back at the cashier. “Hey there.”

They pressed their eyes shut, then opened them. “What?”

“You’re probably wondering why I don’t just steal everything I need from this store.”

The cashier’s breath caught in their throat. “The thought had crossed my mind, I admit.”

Sonata took in and exhaled another thick plume of smoke. “Well, it’s just that, all my life, I’ve either been treated as inferior by my sisters or, more recently, as sort of a, uh, evil goddess thingy by most people.” She smiled as them. “You’re the only person I’ve come across that treats me as an equal, warts and all.”

They pursed their lips. “And by warts, I assume you mean lynching people by their own entrails and dropping people from the tops of buildings to watch them explode on the pavement.”

Sonata pointed at the cashier with her cigarette. “See, you get it!” She paused at the door for a moment. “Um, I guess I’ll see you next time,” she said as she exited the convenience store.

The cashier stared at the bloodstained shielding before they grabbed the cleaning supplies  and got to work on wiping off the blood.

I just really wish she’d stop smoking inside of the store.