"Clive… Ol' boy, it doesn't have to end this way…" Itvashim initiated with an ideologically-imbued invitation.
"Give us the Blueprint piece Clive, and you get to go home, enjoy your comfy, perfectly controlled conditions, no colds or viruses to speak of whatsoever…
- well, except for the ones on your computer…" Itvasme added with a knowing look.
After the first skirmish, Clive had simultaneously inoculated and immobilized several DRSABCDs with several 'fluid' jabs from his hypodermic needles, the techniques of which had been taught to him by a mysterious unassuming TCM [Traditional Chinese Medicine] specialist that had happened to live down the road from him, and whom apparently had various clients including a devout clergyman of some kind though he hadn't gotten too many details about that…
Now though, they were currently locked in a kind of temporary stalemate, since the Dark Rizzards had managed to get their hands on the air conditioning remote control, and were now fiddling with the temperature and humidity settings...
Clive was clearly an immense threat, having dealt with and dosed several Dark Rizzards with several doctor-ing dashes, and yet, in this case, he had underestimated the calculation and cunning of his opponents.
Clive contemplated the current clime in the Convenience store even as he regulated his emotions utilizing various mental and visualization techniques (yes they were from a certain Yoga-instructor called Derek...)
These Dark Rizzard people had clearly done their homework, and knew him well.
Even the computer situation… well, he would have to deal with that Nortón and McaFeé later, since their pesky pop-ups, constant updates and overall bloating of his SSD had truly ruined his otherwise seamless incognito browsing experiences…
"It's up to you, Clive-y. Comfort? Or the alternative…"
The temperature remote control in the Dark Rizzards' hands began to be manipulated…
"69…
68…
67…
The temperature control was slowly ticking down.
___
Ever since the Dark Rizzards had entered his store, things hadn't gotten off…
to a good start.
For one thing, they hadn't wiped their feet, which likely had all sorts of germs, nor had they used the automatic-dispensing hand sanitizer that was at the entrance next to the door.
They were now currently deliberately coughing into their hands and then handling his merchandise, whilst another person was now fiddling around with a a temperature and humidity remote control that would adjust the ambient conditions of the store itself…
The repeating vision of the breaches in comfort caused Clive to break out into a cold sweat, as well as a cold fury.
He kneaded his temples with his hands, in a tried and true scientifically proven way to decrease stress and to help optimise his cognitive function.
"Aaggghhhh…"
The Dark Rizzards had poked and prodded him from every angle.
Would he… suc-come?!
___
Pffft...
At this, a quiet chuckle could be heard from the esteemed audience, a connoisseur of wordplay known only as Pun-Enjoyer, who in particular had been invited to add greater diversity to the crowd in addition to Pep-Z guy.
They were accompanied of course by their friend Ino Sainté, an innocent soul that didn't get the puns and perversion and kind of wanted them explained by a professional, allowing Pun-Enjoyer and the rest of the audience to enjoy the cathartic thrill of corrupting them (they themselves didn't mind) one... egregious explanation at a time.
As a result, Ino Sainté currently had a look of confusion on her face as Pun-Enjoyer broke out into a chuckle.
"Suc-cumb?" She asked with a cute look of confusion on her face. "W-what's so funny about that?" She wrinkled her brow even as she pouted and tugged on Pun-Enjoyer's sleeve.
"Explain…"
Pun-Enjoyer shook their head even as they thanked Author for the perfect chance to allow them to corrupt such an angelic innocence with the (im)mortal 'machinations' of Man…
___
"So… we'll even throw in a new computer… which comes preinstalled with an Ad-blocker.
How's it sound?"
One of the Dark Rizzards came forward, engloved hands, with the laptop still unopened in its box - to be fair, they had just swiped it from the Amazone delivery guy - and set it gingerly on the floor, before stepping back.
Clive licked his lips as he considered the conditions.
It was true.
All this whinging about not wanting to get his flu-shots, as well as spreading bacteria and microbes everywhere in his clean, carefully controlled environment by coughing and caressing his clothing in *his* convenience store...
Well, after all this massaging of the issue, he was now beginning to feel… a certain something.
Despite his skilled emotional regulatory techniques, he was beginning to feel… not pleased.
He was... quite possibly, displeased.
In fact, he realised that he was beginning to feel a bit upset.
He now had a couple of options available to him.
The first, as mentioned earlier, was to su-ccumb.
The second was to Su-ppress… and to hell with the consequences...
Which… would be the better option…?