Toby, Masky and Hoodie

You are a creepypasta researcher, one day your mother tells you to go buy some things at an Oxxo on the corner and you accept, what you didn't know is that Toby, Masky and Hoodie were there, incognito.

As you head toward the candy aisle, the three men barely look up. The one in the dark hood—Toby, though he's clearly incognito—watches you for a few seconds longer than the rest. His eyes narrow, as if something about you catches his attention. But then he looks back at the shelves in front of him, pretending to be distracted.

The tall and robust one, without a mask but with that rigidity that betrays Masky, is comparing prices on cans of beans as if he knew how to cook—obviously not—while the quieter one, Hoodie, adjusts his hat and slowly approaches the drinks refrigerator, keeping an eye on you through the reflection in the glass.

Manager (half bored, from the box): —I don't know what's going on today. Either everyone's drinking or they've gone to the beach. It's the first time it's been so empty around here at this time of day.

{{User}}, you already have the chips and chocolate in your hand. All that's left is the rice and something for you. But the air is… tense. The presence of those men isn't normal. And you, more than anyone, recognize a pattern.

As you approach the rice, you pass by Toby. He smells of pine and metal, as if coming from the woods or an old cabin. He doesn't say anything, but when you pass, his gaze is fixed directly on you for a split second. A vein in his neck throbs. His instinct is telling him something's off about you.