Chapter 33: Shopping! (2)
The moment Lanz crossed into the gear store’s first aisle, he felt every single credit on that payout chit start whimpering for mercy.
Bright lights bounced off brushed metal racks, glass display cases, and price tags that looked more like ransom notes than numbers.
"God," he hissed under his breath, eyeing a kid about his age trying on an entire gleaming combat vest with a sales clerk fussing over him like he was royalty. "Bet his dad’s paying for that just so he’ll shut up about wanting a monster bike."
He made a beeline for the gloves section. It looked harmless enough: neat rows of gloves in every size, shape, and color.
Some with fancy carbon fiber knuckles, others with runic threads woven into the palms, overpriced but maybe practical.
He grabbed the cheapest black pair that didn’t look like it would fall apart after a single punch.
The first glove squeaked the second he flexed his hand. Loud and f*cking embarrassing, like he’d just squeezed a dog toy. Lanz side-eyed a guy two racks over who pretended not to hear it but totally did.
He yanked the glove off and tried the next pair, leather this time, sleek matte finish. Felt good until he tried to bend his fingers and immediately regretted every life choice that led to this moment.
It pinched so tight around his knuckles he felt like his blood flow was about to submit a resignation letter.
"Great," he muttered, wrestling the glove back off his hand. "Fifty credits to feel like I’m choking my own hand, love that! So practical."
He finally settled on a simple pair, with no squeak or finger tourniquet, black with decent grip. Wasn’t flashy, but if they lasted more than three dungeon dives, they’d be a bargain.
Next stop, boots!