After his conversation with Nadia, Duke hopped on his bike and headed out to deliver the final package of the day. Once he completed the task and felt a sense of satisfaction, he rode over to the electronics shop, eager to finally get his hands on the gaming console he'd been eyeing.
Duke walked into the electronics shop, his eyes fixed on the display case where the gaming device was usually kept. But as he approached, his heart sank. The shelf was empty, and a small sign read, "Out of Stock."
Duke's face fell as he approached the sales assistant. "Hey, is the gaming console sold out?" he asked, still hoping she'd give him an alternate.
"Yeah, I'm afraid so," the assistant replied. "We had a special promotion last weekend, and it flew off the shelves. We won't be restocking for a while."
Duke's disappointment was discernible. Only if he had come on time, he would have been able to purchase it.
"A while? How long is a while?" he pressed.
The assistant shrugged. "At least a few months, maybe longer. I'd recommend checking with other stores or online retailers if you're really keen on getting it."
Duke sighed, feeling dismayed. He had been looking forward to getting his hands on that console all week. "Thanks for letting me know," he said in acknowledgment. In a bid to conceal his disappointment, but it was in vain.
As he walked out of the shop, Duke couldn't help but feel frustrated. He thought he would get his hands on the console and had been really happy about it until now. Maybe if he hadn't thought of working for a while and just got it from the money he earned digitally, he would have had it by now.
"Excuse me," a voice called from behind, gaining Duke's attention.
Turning to the person, he was faced with a tall, buff guy.
"Hey, you look like someone who's been punched in the gut," the buff guy let out with a chuckle. "What's wrong, buddy?"
Duke sighed and rubbed his face. "Just got my hopes up about getting a gaming console, but it's sold out. Won't be restocked for months."
The buff guy nodded sympathetically. "That sucks. I know how it feels to miss out on something you really want. But hey, maybe I can help you out."
Duke raised an eyebrow. "How so?"
The buff guy smiled. "I might have a connection with someone who can get you the console. It'll cost a bit more than the retail price, but if you're really interested in getting it..."
Duke's eyes lit up. "Really? That would be amazing! I'd be willing to pay a little extra."
The buff guy grinned. "I thought you'd say that. Let me make a call and see what I can do."
As the buff guy pulled out his phone and started dialing, Duke felt a glimmer of hope, but his instincts kicked in, and he couldn't help but wonder why this stranger would want to help him out when they barely even knew each other. It seemed suspicious, and Duke's mind started racing with possibilities.
He turned to assess the guy more closely, and his eyes caught something on his back—a tattoo. The tattoo wouldn't have meant anything if he hadn't seen it on someone before. That someone being the mysterious person, Dominique, he had delivered a package to earlier. Duke's heart skipped a beat as he realized the connection.
Slowly, Duke started to back away from the buff guy, trying not to draw attention to himself. His bike was too far away, and he knew he couldn't outrun this guy. He needed to stall.
"Hey, dude, don't worry about it. I have something to catch up on," Duke said, trying to sound nonchalant.
The buff guy turned to him, phone still in hand. "But I just asked the salesperson to bring it here. He'll be here shortly—"
"I have to go," Duke responded, increasing his pace as he tried to create some distance between them.
But the buff guy was too quick. He brought out a gun and shot at Duke, the bullet whizzing past his face by mere inches. Duke halted, his heart racing.
"Stay where you are. That was a warning shot," the buff guy growled, his friendly demeanor now replaced with a menacing glare.
Duke froze in shock as his mind raced. He couldn't believe what was happening. The buff guy's sudden transformation from a helpful stranger to a deadly threat had caught him off guard.
But he felt himself starting to let his guard down, a habit he knew he couldn't afford. He had been through situations like this before, and he knew better than to trust anyone. Yet, every time he relaxed his vigilance, people inevitably gave him a reason to regret it.
He had learned the hard way that trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, and that in this harsh world, it was every man for himself.
"Who are you?" Duke demanded, trying to keep his voice steady.
The buff guy smirked. "What does it fucking look like, Dumbass? I'll make this quick and be on my way so hand over the fucking pill or I'll blow your head off here and right now!"
"I don't have what you're looking for…"
The man cocks his gun ready to shoot.
"… here. I don't have it here, I just came to drop off deliveries."
"We'll take my car. You better not pull a dumb move, else…" He cocked the gun again, and Duke nodded hastily, understanding the gravity of the situation. He couldn't even reach for his own guns nor could he use the system mart, as one false move might be his last. The buff guy's aggression and unpredictability made him a dangerous opponent, and Duke knew he had to tread carefully to survive this ordeal.
Duke followed the buff guy to his car, with the latter tugging behind like a shadow, closely tailing Duke's every move. Before Duke got in, the man frisked him, checking his body to ensure he had no weapons on him. Satisfied, he then handcuffed Duke's hands behind his back, effectively confiscating him. This was to prevent Duke from making any sudden moves while they were in the car.
As Duke's mind raced, he desperately tried to think of an escape plan. But with his hands cuffed and the buff guy's gun trained on him, his options seemed limited. He couldn't use his hands to reach for a weapon or even try to disarm the buff guy without risking a fatal shot. Duke's thoughts whirled as he tried to come up with a plan, but every scenario ended in a dead-end. What could he do, handcuffed and helpless, with a gun pointed at his head?