The two left the tranquil forest when the sun reached its zenith. Walking back to the inner city would take some time, so they decided to leave early.
Curving around the slums, they reached the destination just as the sunlight reddened. Mark sent the brunette home and headed to work.
The door creaked open and Mark saw the old man at the counter again, writing on the menu.
He curiously looked over, seeing that prices were once again crossed out, with more etched on top.
The new prices were stunning. It had increased much more than last time. They were a bit worrying.
"I thought you had a good deal with your suppliers. Why raise it so much?"
Royce looked back at him. His expression was uncharacteristically dreadful. Mark would have been surprised if he weren't as frightened.
"I thought I did a good job with them, and I did. But it all amounted to nothing. The economy is simply tightening, everyone within is getting crushed."
Mark sighed.
Like fighting the sea with a mere bucket, no matter how hard one struggled, they would simply be knocked over by the waves. Maybe this was the fate that awaited him.
He shook his head.
'No! I refuse to be swept away!'
Royce finished his price adjustment and rose. While walking to the kitchen, he slowed down and patted the bartender on the shoulder.
"We're in for tough times."
With a curt nod, Mark returned to his wooden counter and began to polish it before the first customer would arrive.
As the sun set, the bar quickly filled up with people, and after some orchestrations, he set up an atmosphere that would last for the night.
Which is why he was terribly displeased to see it broken apart.
Three people entered the bar with an unecessarily domineering attitude, drawing the attention of everyone in the establishment.
Then they looked at the unassuming bartender, momentarily freezing in place.
Tension reverberated through the wooden room. To both parties, it felt as if an uncomfortable heat arose while their hearts constricted.
It was the three that he fought earlier today. The scoundrels who harassed her…
But all that needed to be put aside. He had a job to do and he was going to get it done, personal grudges or not.
He put on a radiantly welcoming smile and warmly greeted them.
"Welcome, we have beer, wine, and fine cocktails for this lovely night."
He wasn't trying to appease them. In fact, he focused his ability on everyone else in the room, trying to restore the mood before anything more happens. Those vagrants could take their beaten selves out of his life for all he cared.
Sadly, they seemed to have other plans. The lanky man smirked and led his two friends to the bar before sitting down. Luckily the action seemed to placate everyone else who were now returning to whatever they were doing before.
Yet his night wasn't going to get any easier.
"Give us the best stuff you've got."
Mark looked up impassionately, still wiping the glass he held while resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
The audacity to make such a cliched demand. He peered into the man's smirking gaze, absolutely uncaring. All his emotions were already let out in the fight, he really didn't have any concern for them anymore.
"You got the money?"
The lanky man burst out laughing. Mark manipulated the onlookers, making it feel more like a banter than a confrontation.
'Does this guy see a joke in everything, or is he just stupid?'
The man hit the table a few times in mocking amusement before looking back at the austere bartender.
"Don't be mistaken. You are the one paying, not us."
Mark tilted his head ever so slightly.
"For what?"
The audacious scoundrel leaned forward. His breath really reeked. The bartender took a step back in fear for his sanitary safety.
How did his friends do it? Being around the guy for more than a minute must be toxic.
"I was spending some quality time with my girl when you assaulted us. If not for my broken heart and ribs, then at least my friends here deserve some compensation."
How annoying. They seemed to be here solely for the sake of causing trouble.
He shook his head.
"Strange, I don't really remember that happenening. My head has been hurting a bit recently. Though… I somewhat recall some idiots running into my fist a few times."
Mark shrugged and simply smiled before continuing.
"You must have the wrong man. After all, my friend would never lower herself to going out with some supercilious shit pole."
The lanky man stood up and slammed the table.
"What did you just say!?"
Now Mark rolled his eyes.
What an utterly pedestrian response. He's heard this from at least a hundred other standoffs he watched on the streets.
He quickly looked at the room, placating everyone while prompting them to become more enraptured in their own activities.
Finally, his attention returned the man in front of him.
"I said, she wouldn't go out with a deadbeat deaf man. Stop going after things you can't have. The further she stays away from the toxic pit you have for a mouth, the better."
With that, the lanky man was lost for words, on the verge of beginning yet another fight. Using a few words and mental cues, all his rational was lost to a seething rage.
This was Mark's revenge for the earlier confrontation.
He reached out with his mind, drawing forth reason and pacifying the other two scoundrels.
They grabbed their seething companion by his shaking arms and dragged him. One of them threw a glance at the bartender.
From what Mark could tell, it meant an unresolved grudge and an upcoming fight.
Afterward, the rest of the night played out like normal. He tidied the place and counted the sales before reporting to Royce.
There seemed to be less sales than before, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.
He left the bar and started walking in the direction of the northern district. The brunette was letting him stay again and he wasn't aboht to say no.
To his side, the moon was climbing the starless sky, reaching for the curtain of gray above. He had once heard from his father that the moonlight is simply reflected light from the sun.
The persistence of the sunlight- to shine across the sky, bouncing off the moon and shining with a luminescent hue.
It filled him with determination.
In the silence of his steps, he stretched his hearing as far as his concentration would allow him.
Surely enough, the feint footsteps of a following trio of fools was resounding from a relatively safe distance. Nobody was around and curfew had just taken effect, so they were far enough to be obscured by the city shadows.
He sped up, hoping to lose the hapless three in the concrete maze of the central urbam area.
How would one never lose a fight?
The answer is pathetically simple: don't fight.
But the three trailing steps refused to let up, threatening to follow him into the secured northern district. Their persistence was applaudable if not so stupid.
And then, a sudden revalation his Mark.
Those scoundrels weren't exactly a one time problem. It was better to think of them as a disease. The situation would simply grow more severe now that they new where he worked, and going to the brunette's house would simply put her in danger. Dealing with them early became the appealing choice.
He slowed down on the approach of an alley before turning into it. A few minutes past, then the wretches turned into the passageway themselves. Within, a confident man wearing a windbreaker stood expectantly.
"What are you idiots doing?"
The lanky man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles in utter anticipation.
Mark slowly retreated a few steps. While he wasn't scared, it would be unpleasant if a surprise attack were to do him in.
"We're returning the favor: a shattered jaw, broken ribs, and some interest too."
"Uhuh."
'Alright, enough is enough.'
Mark abruptly pulled his right hand from behind his back, raising it toward the lanky man's head while instigating waves of terror and dread in the three wretches.
The tall idiot looked at the object in Mark's hand with dumbfounded fright.
The moonlight embellished Mark's gun with a metallic luster. His barrel was harshly pressed against his assailant's forehead.
He regarded the other two.
"Get on the damned wall and don't move an inch."
He watched the two obey his orders without delay.
Shortly enough, he had the three lined up on the alleyway, droning in utter terror.
The sight was slightly gratifying to his messed up mind.
He looked at his gun. The thing was more useful than he thought- a perfect synergy to his ability.
Returning his focus to the three on the wall, he was suddenly at a loss.
'Now what …'