Thinning fossil-gray hair slicked back, Nam scanned the crowd before him. The current city mayor, who was one of the earliest orphans he has adopted, has thrown a huge party to convey gratitude for his good deeds.
Nam sighed. He of all people should know that parties weren't his jam. He did not choose this career for fame, gratitude or positive reputation, though it would not have been polite declining such invitation. As the principle of an orphanage, and also the only teacher in the orphanage, he was defined an angel. On the surface, he was a successful entrepreneur and philanthropist who one day, visited an orphanage he had invested in, where he unintentionally discovered his purpose. All this was veracious, yet non has truly uncovered his former backstory.
Living a tranquil life of helping orphans for nearly 55 years, he is an antique has watched so many children grow up, and has even shed tears for short lived 'children'.
The people he raised who were present had gone up the stage one at a time to thank Nam for his hospitality, while he received numerous messages greeting him Happy Birthday. Finally, the last person, a twenty-ish adult in blue business suit ran up the stage, shaking Nam's strong, callus marred hand, his voice quavering with zeal. "Thank you so much. I owe you my life. Until today, I'm still so grateful how you prioritized and saved us kids from that supernatural earthquake 13 years ago."
Supernatural earthquake? 13 years ago? Just arriving at the scene, Atlas heard the adult's words of gratitude.
"Excuse me sir."
Nam glimpsed behind. Somehow, he bore natural affinity with the teenager, the golden chains with detailed hieroglyphics that substituted casual necklace seemed to evoked intimate perception deep within his heart. He wanted to talk, when "Boom", deafening explosions cut him off. Bombs secretly implanted around the square detonated, screeches ringing in everyone's ear. Panic dispersed, spreading like virus amongst the shambolic crowd.
Nam clutched a bronze metallic stick disguised as a cane, the calluses on his palm perfectly securing it. The good old days. Flashbacks of the battlefield in the Vietnam war brought thirst to Nam. Neglecting his families intention to inherit the fortune they had, he enrolled in the army on the day he reached adulthood. The battlefield was his home and he was a spectre of the war. Fights were the drugs he needed to enliven his rusty joints.
"Hello citizens of Daxrim city." An amplified voice broadcasted from speakers set up around the square, "No need to panic. As long as you drop all valuables and lie on the ground, your life shall be spared."
Bulky men in black ski masks marched into the square holding rifles as three white vans drifted in. In tar-black uniform, a young man spoke into a microphone, stepping in sight.
"So many influential people here today. You know who you are. Please line up before the van in an organized formation and do not resist. Our bullets don't have eyes. My, my. Beloved Mr. Nam." He caught a glimpse of Nam, "Thank you for raising me. I shall treat you with extra care if you choose to abide by my orders. We have cookies in the car in case your hungry."
Effusing an eerie manifestation, Nam straightened his back, displaying youthful energy.
"Haven't I properly raised children? Has my parenting led you to a wrong path?" Nam narrowed his keen eyes, "Despite all the reason you may have, I will not tolerate this action. You have derailed from morality Dennis!"
"Everyone has their own beliefs and secrets. As a matter of fact, it looks like you carry few too. Executing my superior's orders are now officially my primary concern. No privaliges for you anymo... Ah!!!" Dennis's voice trailed off into an agonizing, high-pitched scream.
Atlas has appeared behind Dennis, shouting, "Surprise motherfucker!" as he stabbed the man's ass with the butterfly knife he retrieved from the psycho guy.
"Help! Call an ambulance! My ass is ruined." Dennis crawled away, butt cheek bleeding.
What a failure of a terrorist leader!