Despite the dark, late-night, the streets of this giant metropolis were just as busy, if not even more crowded than during the day. Numerous, nameless -and ultimately- faceless pedestrians crossed the streets.
Next to them, vehicles of varying shapes and sizes kept roaring tirelessly as they passed by. They were your everyday people, the busy bees of human civilization: workers walking home after a tiring day, children finishing school, elders living their senior lives, enjoying their retirement. Average, everyday people, passing by each other, not knowing, -or just simply-, not caring about the person passing by next to them.
Behind a counter at one of the similarly nameless, corner-side groceries, a bored teenager was passing the last hours of his afternoon shift. His eyes focused on the glowing screen of his smartphone.
His face was decent, slightly above the average, not too handsome, but you couldn't say he was hard to look at either. He had short, dark brown hair, with a pair of matching almond-shaped chestnut eyes. He was gifted with chiseled facial features, a straight but short nose, and thin lips. The youth looked to be around 18 to 20 years of age with a height of 5' 7". (A.N.: Roughly 175-178 cm).
He scoffed with an annoyed look on his face as he scrolled through the endless news feed of his phone.
"Murders, thefts, robberies… I just don't get it, why can't they post something positive just once?!" He sighed with clear displeasure, however, he continued with his tireless scrolling. It's not that he had anything better to do anyway.
Just like how it was usually as the day marched towards the closing hours, he was the only living soul inside the shop. Not that he really minded this fact. He could leisurely sit and complete his day without giving care to the rest of the world.
It's not like he had any family to care about, his parents died when he was only 5 years old. Since then he lived with his grandfather all the way until last July when suddenly he passed away in his sleep. Officials confirmed it to be of natural causes, and the reason for it being a 'supposed' blood clot clogging up his veins and stopping the circulation in his heart.
Ever since then, he continued to leave in his late grandpa's house, battling his growing depression and working down all the accumulated debts they built up over the years.
After all, living in a dojo, that had zero students in the last two decades was not a profitable 'business'. Still, he refused to give up the plot, as it was not just his grandpa's resting place, but his legacy that was left in this harsh, cruel world as well.
The ringing of the small bell placed above the entrance put an abrupt end to the teenager's boredom and reminisce. With a disinterested expression, he briefly shifted his gaze up from the phone's screen and looked towards the source of the sound.
A lean and tall man, probably in his early-to-mid twenties, wearing a large dark brown raincoat stepped inside. With an agitated look on his face, holding a similarly colored brown paper bag in his left hand, the potential 'customer' nervously swayed his head around, darting his eyes and perspiring face from left to right. Upon making sure that outside the other boy behind the counter, there were no other souls present in the store, he reached inside the paper sack with his right hand, grabbed something, and with his hurried steps, he walked to the lonesome teenager attending the register.
Upon reaching it, he suddenly pulled out a black pistol and aimed it at the clerk. He was clearly an amateur as his hands were trembling, his trigger finger was placed outside the guard, his forehead was glistening with the heavy coagulation of sweat.
"Open the register and put all the money into this bag!" Arms shaking due to his nervousness, he placed the brown paper bag onto the desk, keeping his aim on the still emotionless, nonchalant teen.
Shifting his gaze only for a single instant away from his phone, the boy took a quick glance at the weapon aimed at him, then with an audible scoff, he returned his focus to the object in his hand, his phone's screen, ignoring the assailant completely.
Seeing how he was ignored despite the obvious threat he held in his hand, the man's already not too stable confidence took a heavy hit. He agitatedly shook the gun in his hand and nervously yelled out.
"What are you doing?! I have a gun! I will not repeat myself! Open the register and put all the money into the bag! NOW!"
His outcry only earned a light snort-slash-chuckle from the youth. His eyes not leaving the screen, he responded with an impish tone.
"You just did though..."
The boy's short response only agitated the already nervous robber even further. Shaking his gun wildly, he cried out once again.
"Huh? What are you… Are you actually an idiot?! Can't you see I have a gun? Do you have a death wish or something? Want me to shoot you in the head, you little sh*tbag?!"
Heaving a bored sigh, the teen looked up from his screen once again, only taking a single glance at the swaying gun.
"With that toy? Pfft… Dude, who are you trying to fool?! Just get the f*ck out of the store, and stop pestering me."
Shocked by his words, the man pushed the gun closer aimed at the youth's forehead.
"What did you say?! Wanna find out if my gun is real or not?!"
Being forced into such a predicament didn't seem to phase the strange teenager that much. He merely sighed once again, as he put his phone down for the first time.
"For f*ck sake, I can see the f*cking "Made in China" text on the side, you hopeless imbecile! Seriously, who are you trying to fool?!" The youth spoke, addressing the man in an annoyed tone in his otherwise clear voice.
Suddenly, before the nervous assailant could respond, the youngster's right hand shot out from beneath the counter, grabbing the plastic weapon and prying it away from the shocked robber's hand in a single, lightning-fast motion.
Shocked by what had just transpired, the man looked at the boy now holding his 'weapon' with a stupefied expression.
"Y-y-you! W-what… No. H-h-how…?!" Unable to form any meaningful sentences, the man stammered. What he just witnessed was simply unbelievable!
"Hmmm…" The youth, now holding the robber's weapon, inspected the gun closely. "Yupp, just as I said, it's just plastic. A toy gun. Looks pretty neat, quite realistic though."
He looked at the frightened man with a wide grin stretching across his face.
"It must have been pretty pricey, huh? Well, thanks for the gift!" He grinned at the stupefied man.
With that, the boy placed his newly gained loot under the desk, and leaned back on his chair once again, shifting his attention back to his phone.
Seeing this, the man, -now deprived of his weapon, and with it, his last bits of confidence-, shakily reached out with his right hand towards the boy. Getting only halfway, his arm stopped only grabbing the air, powerlessly. In a much weaker, faint, and meek voice, he squealed.
"M-my gun… give it back…"
Without looking away from the screen, the boy's focus was plastered on his endless social feed. After a few seconds of silence, he sighed, throwing a curt response in a cold, unfriendly manner.
"Nope. You're an idiot, and people like you shouldn't be playing around with dangerous toys like these. You have to understand, such things can really halt your growth!" Tilting his head, the youth pointed towards the entrance. "You know where the exit is, get the f*ck out."
His words were harsh and especially cruel, hitting deep in the already shaken, pathetic robber-wannabe's heart. He almost groveled to get his plastic toy gun back from this brat, not even in his twenties! How humiliating was that!
Why did this cruel youngster have to go so far as to utterly humiliate him? He had to earn some money too! As his emotions started to spiral out of control, his fear slowly started to transform, kindling a new emotion in his heart: hatred.
He wanted to show this arrogant, self-entitled prick what the reality of this world is! He wanted revenge, payback! Nobody can speak to him in this manner! He just needed to inform his boss, and then...
Witnessing the incredible speed at which the youth took his weapon right out of his hands, the man did not dare to show any hostility. He swallowed his anger and glanced at the boy one last time with a cold look on his face, before turning around and silently walking towards the door, carrying all the shame and humiliation he had just suffered. He clenched his fists and left the little corner-side grocery store with hurried steps.
Reaching the corner, when he was certain he was out of sight of the young boy, he pulled out his phone and searched for a particular name before hitting the green call button…