This is hardly the first time that Olimar has been tasked with making a “special” delivery. These assignments come in every so often (especially when the company is running short on cash), and they’re always given directly to Olimar. Maybe he should be grateful for the extra work, but his nerves always seem to get the better of him when he’s out on one of these jobs; it feels as though there’s a new “superhero” prowling the city streets every other month these days, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them catches up to him.
He should have quit a long time ago.
Oh, well. This is his last delivery of the evening, and then he can go home. He smiles softly at the thought. Quickly, now, Olimar! If he hurries, he might make it back in time to kiss Pecha goodnight before she turns off her late night shows and settles down to sleep.
Humming softly to himself, he unloads two heavy crates from the back of his truck and wheels them over to the drop-off point.
…that’s strange. He was told he would be meeting a woman in dark clothing, but the figure waiting up ahead is quite the opposite. The stranger’s stark white ensemble gleams under the light of the moon; something about its uncanny glow makes Olimar’s stomach twist up in knots.
“I don’t suppose you’d happen to be ‘Ms. Labre’…?”
@shatteringthetomb !