Foster didn't go home. His older brother was most likely already drunk but not passed out yet and Foster had no desire to be the dumping ground for the last twenty four hours of disappointment that was his brothers life.
Not far from his family's apartment there was an all night diner. Foster has seem many dusty sun rises from behind the diner's dirty shielded windows. It was the closest thing to home he could think of.
With time to kill he took the booth furthest back in the corner of the diner. He ordered a soda and a slice of artificial cherry pie, set his pack on the table, pulled the main compartment zipper open and grabbed the med kit. He shoved his bag under the table. "Hey Pops!" The line cook and owner of the diner stuck his head out of the kitchen. "lock the door would'ya? I'm leaving my stuff out here while I get cleaned up." Pop nodded and pressed his hand into a command console on the wall, locking the doors.
Foster ducked into the bathroom tenderly. The adrenaline from his daring escape was wearing off and he was starting to feel the effects of the cuts and bruises the guards had gifted him. He carefully took his jacket and shirt off, and tried not to look at himself in the mirror. He thin in a generally unhealthy way, which didn't really bother him because everyone in the fringes was. he took a quick assessment of his wounds and opened up the med kit. First things first he sprayed each wound with bath'n'a'can. Antiseptic spray that burned more than any bath that he could ever remember taking.
Once the burning faded, he sealed each wound with skin tape. He rolled the applicator back and forth like a tiny vacuum cleaner. He'd done this more times than he could count and watching the artificial skin cover up the bloody mess of his actual body fascinated him every time. In less than a month it would flake off like real skin and in the case of minor wound he likely wouldn't even have a scar, Some of the large slashes would be nothing more than permanent brush strokes of forgotten pain. Lastly he dry swallowed his last two pain pills and then closed up his kit. he dropped his shirt back onto his body and slid into his jacket carefully so as not to aggravate the wounds underneath their bandages. Once he was dressed he exited the bathroom and went back to his table. Not long after Pops brought out the soda and pie, and unlocked the door on his way back into the kitchen.
By the time Daniel arrived the pie was a distant memory. He sat across from Foster and waved pop off as he came out of the kitchen. He looked Foster over in silence. "You look tired." He finally offered.
Foster nodded. "Better to be tired and alive, than dead and well rested." He replied.
Daniel nodded. "Where's the package." he asked. Foster wiggled his left leg which had both straps of his backpack wrapped around it. Daniel nodded again. "All right then, hand it over and you can go get some sleep." He held out his hand.
Foster shook his head slightly. "Did you know the building was the Shadow Church?" He asked. Daniel looked at the decor on the walls of the cafe, avoiding Foster's gaze. Foster felt the pain meds dulling his rage. "Daniel! The ONLY reason I made it out of there alive was because of lucky door timing!" He snapped.
