(Kamen's Perspective) (First Person Point of View)
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"I'm sorry to tell you, but we aren't hiring anyone new right now."
"Your resume says that you lack financial ability to support our company. We don't need you here."
"You graduated from a public college school and not from a university? Get lost, kid."
"Have we ever told you we aren't hiring any more employees like you?"
Those were the words shouted to me as the doors shunned behind my back. It struck like a bullet, piercing through my ears. My ragged corporate attire did not attract greedy companies to hire me for their jobs. Those bastards only wanted rich employees, students who graduated from universities, and beautiful girls that would fall on their knees.
One of them even had the sign placed at the gate, inviting fresh graduates to apply. But like public students, I was the only one who did not get the job. Frustrating as it was, I needed to learn the bitter truth.
"Please, I beg of you. I don't know how I will last next month without earning money. Please, sir."
Alas, none of them heeded my plea. All of those directors and bosses were the same, hunting students who had more talent in them. Even without special skills, someone was working behind the scenes, helping them get a job.
I, who had nobody that I could depend on, left the building.
An item vibrated inside my pocket. It rang through my lower legs, so I had to remove that forsaken thing from me. I picked my cellular phone and clipped it in my hands. It was not even a touch screen, the modern phones that my colleagues had. It was a flip phone that stood beside me for ten years during my high school times.
I flicked the phone open and dialled the password. The screen told me that my mother was calling, so I answered the call.
Before I could even speak, my mother clamoured a lengthy speech. "You worthless son! Let me guess, you did not get the job, didn't you? Your brothers are better than you! Look at you! You're walking trash that couldn't get a job! Good luck working at a convenience sto-,"
I could not handle her words. Those sentences blared through my eardrums and pierced my already exhausted heart.
"Even my parents want to disown me, huh?" I exhaled.
After throwing me into this urban world, my parents expected me to find a job. They wanted me to become an accountant. They wanted me to have a stable income- as any parent would have for their child, but they placed the bars to the extreme.
I walked back to the convenience store and rested my worn-out coat on the rack. My eyes wandered around the mirror and greeted my tired figure. That crazed hair was the only thing that looked up towards the skies. Upon getting my dirty-white uniform, I was ready for work. I already hung my head on the ground and moved out of the entrance.
The only thing that was keeping me looking forward to this quiet place that I considered home.
"Tough schedule working during the night," a worker said, and placed his identification card at the desk. "See you in the morning, loser."
Before he left, he tackled my shoulder using his and sprinted towards the entrance. He had a gun strapped beside his hips. I did not want to mess with a guy despite my desperate expressions.
The doors welcomed him outside as he left the mart, and so did the crowd.
Loud screeches blared through my eardrums as the girls waiting outside called for the man. He had piercings all over his face and tattoos painted on his body. Although not all of them were douchebags, this one I was working with was an asshole.
Life never let me taste the sweet victory, unlike my classmates. There was only madness that haunted me throughout my day.
The dark environment addressed my eyes as I watched the exterior parts of the store. We were in the middle of nowhere, so the place did not have any noise to baffle any customers. If I had to make sense of my situation, the owner did not have the money to pay for an extravagant place.
'That manager might have settled in such a shabby place to save money from paying the rent.' I thought, and continued observing the grim skies.
The gigantic arrow had finally hit twelve, paired with a clamorous sound coming from the cashier. "Happy birthday!" The technology greeted me and gave me a cookie to cheer me up.
It was always like this for three years since the first time I worked here. This automated machine never ceased granting me a snack to energise me in the night.
"Eight hours after my shift, I swear to god I will play my favourite game," I told myself while pumping my fist on my fragile chest.
Two hours had passed, and not a single patron went by and visited the store. I did not expect more than bats hovering from the mountain nearby. They were the only company I have during these lonely nights.
As time went by, something growled around my abdomen, begging for food. I took a glimpse inside my wallet and found nothing. I did not have a yen to buy dagashi- a term used in Japanese for cheap candies and snacks.
However, I was in the store. If somebody notices my acts, it would be the manager. He would spot me from taking one meal inside the fridge. I had no choice but to get one over the counter and deduct my salary from the meal I took.
It had been two years since I started doing these shenanigans.
"A cup of ramen. My favourite." I took the preheated boiling water and poured it into my cup.
The fishy scent of noodles cooking on its own fluttered through my nose. I can even taste the simmer taste of fish and noodles nestling in my mouth. After a few moments, I took a slurp and finished the meal within minutes.
I stood up from my seat and went outside the store to throw out the trash. Upon squinting my eyes ahead, I saw three individuals arriving at the parking light late this night. The family comprised a mother, a father, and their little daughter standing between the parents.
The trio was heading this way, but there was a biker gang roaming around the streets. There were also three of them, with someone leading them in front. It did not look good for the family.
The mob of bikers circled them, bullying them to stop in their tracks. The family had nothing to do with these thugs. They were just unlucky enough to meet them here in the open.
However, I had thought wrong. These psychos had planned this ahead of time. Each of them had tattoos on their arms and pistols on their sides.
The family took a stop, frightened about this group parking in front. The father stepped forward and asked them to leave. But they paid no attention to the old-man and continued instilling fear in the unfortunate family.
"I remember now! He's the manager of this place!" I gasped, and hid behind the gigantic trash bin. It was enough to conceal my petite body amidst this chaos.
I observed them behind the scenes.
The leader of the biker gang parked his motorcycle in front of the father. He removed his helmet and revealed the intricate designs of his tattoo on his right arm. The man rested his hand in his pocket. He was ready to point the gun at anyone who dared to oppose him and his team. Upon looking at his face, I knew he was the man who had worked here.
It was the same coworker who had left earlier this evening.
"Hand over the check, old man. I need the money tonight." The man grinned while extending his arm and directed his gun at the other.
"How did you know I was here?" the father asked.
A fountain of sweat cascaded from his skin as he stared at the biker's leader before him. He stood with nothing in his hands beside his stark fist. The father would lose if he picked up a fight against this youngster, especially with his family behind him.
However, the father was brave. He took a step forward while throwing questions at the young man.
"Stop moving, or I'll shoot!" the biker shouted.
"You can't kill me. I know you're kind."
Before the father could say something else, a gunshot exploded from the pistol, scarring both the mother and her child. The pair held their screams, knowing that the two remaining bikers would kill them on the spot, with their bats resting behind their back.
I instinctively dialled 911 on my cell phone, hoping to grab some help from the family. However, I stopped midway from calling for help, thinking that I could walk away without uttering a word.
It was my responsibility to help them. And if I attempted to call the police, those bikers might hear me. Those ruffians were no joke. They would kill them and me on the spot if I were not careful.
I stole a peek from the bin and continued watching the event happening at my fore.
"Hand over the money, and I will leave you and your family alone. Do we have ourselves a deal?" my coworker announced, and removed the safety pin of the gun.
"I don't have any money right now. Maybe we could just talk things out."
Blaring gunfire resonated near the mart, followed by a screeching pain coming from the old man.
The father fell on his knees and rolled on the ground, caressing his swollen leg. The bullet pierced his skin, rendering him immobile for the time being. Despite what happened, the father was still fortunate enough to receive the gunshot from the leg rather than his chest or head.
If the young man had directed his bullet at his vital parts, the father would have been dead already.
"Don't test my patience, old man."
The father used his last ounce of strength and croaked to the biker. "I promise you I have nothing here with me! My credit card was already empty, and we had no other place to go but to eat inside my store! If there is spare money inside the cashier, you can have all of that! But, please, spare my family!"
"I grew tired of making money out of your tiny store. Maybe if I become the owner of that mart, I will become richer than what I am right now?" The lad rested his chin on the tip of his gun and pondered to himself. "But I have to kill you first if I want to have that. Oh, what a such a shame."
I did not have any other choice but to hit the three numbers on my phone. As soon as I pressed enter, a sudden ring alerted everyone in my vicinity.
"Shit! Why did I forget to turn the volume down, dammit!" I hid my phone in the bin's corner and made a run for it inside the store. It meant to receive the phone call while these bastards chased me through the ends of Earth.
I needed to create a distraction so the three thugs would not hurt the innocent family. There was nothing more that I could ever ask but to save someone's life at the cost of mine. I had nothing to lose, since I already lost my entire life living in this world.
"You! Get him and take him alive before he calls for help!" the biker instructed.
His merry men followed me inside the mart. These hoodlums reloaded their guns and fired relentlessly in my direction, hoping they could land a bullet in my body and skin me alive.
"Living in this Yashima, Japan, inside a mart, is a really nice place to live in, you know!" I shouted, hoping that someone could hear the address of the store.
The bullets rained upon me, destroying a myriad of glasses behind me. The shards reigned at my rear, almost hitting my bag. It was thanks to my uniform that I made it back alive. However, a scarlet liquid stained the right side of my sleeves. But I felt no pain coming from my skin.
"Shit. Now I have to tend my wounds after this." Something that I did not know grazed me from the descending objects. But what was prominent right now was the fight before me.
I needed to stall time before anything else.
A stray bullet eventually landed on my side. As I glanced at the shelf, the man from before, whom I also knew from a year ago, welcomed my sight. He pulled the trigger and ended my life right there and now.