It's not about who's wrong or right.
who. Valen and Alfred.
when. August 11; a warm Wednesday afternoon.
where. Millennium Infinity Comics; AKA: The geek watering hole of Liberty.
what. Who would win a fight...
Infinity Comics was the kind of shop that only the most devoted comic enthusiasts frequented, but it did offer a variety of suprisingly cheap goods for those who were brave enough to creep into the dirtier parts of Downtown Liberty: dark, edgy graphic novels lined heavily in black ink; colorful Japanese manga sporting moe magical girls and physically impossible mecha; plastic figurines with enough detail to make even the most picky collector cry with joy.
The word Millenium on the sign was crossed out sloppily instead of being painted over (apparently, it took a while for the owners to realize that adding Millennium to the name didn't make the shop sound any 'cooler') and the tacky, "futuristic" decor looked like something out of the eighties-which was entirely plausible considering how ancient the floors and shelves looked-but Valen didn't care about any of that. This week's paycheck was a little larger than the usual and she only had one thing in mind for her extra spending money: the newest issue of Batman. However, being the frugal spender she was, she had to make sure that it was worth her money.
Unfortunately, her usual comic mooching spot was taken by some gringo with a baggy hoodie and headphones, bopping his head like he was in a goddamn record store. Your typical American teenager. She rolled her eyes and brushed past him rather rudely, stopping only to glance over his shoulder to see what he was reading. Iron Man. Really? She snorted none-too-quietly and shook her head.
when. August 11; a warm Wednesday afternoon.
where. Millennium Infinity Comics; AKA: The geek watering hole of Liberty.
what. Who would win a fight...
Infinity Comics was the kind of shop that only the most devoted comic enthusiasts frequented, but it did offer a variety of suprisingly cheap goods for those who were brave enough to creep into the dirtier parts of Downtown Liberty: dark, edgy graphic novels lined heavily in black ink; colorful Japanese manga sporting moe magical girls and physically impossible mecha; plastic figurines with enough detail to make even the most picky collector cry with joy.
The word Millenium on the sign was crossed out sloppily instead of being painted over (apparently, it took a while for the owners to realize that adding Millennium to the name didn't make the shop sound any 'cooler') and the tacky, "futuristic" decor looked like something out of the eighties-which was entirely plausible considering how ancient the floors and shelves looked-but Valen didn't care about any of that. This week's paycheck was a little larger than the usual and she only had one thing in mind for her extra spending money: the newest issue of Batman. However, being the frugal spender she was, she had to make sure that it was worth her money.
Unfortunately, her usual comic mooching spot was taken by some gringo with a baggy hoodie and headphones, bopping his head like he was in a goddamn record store. Your typical American teenager. She rolled her eyes and brushed past him rather rudely, stopping only to glance over his shoulder to see what he was reading. Iron Man. Really? She snorted none-too-quietly and shook her head.