Larry was one of the most trusted men in the organization, a key figure who had earned the respect of everyone around him. Whenever you would see him handle a job, you could be sure it was not just any task; it was very important and often dangerous.
The group Larry had assembled for this particular job consisted of a lot of young men, each one eager and ready to prove themselves. As Erin surveyed the crowd, he could tell that this job would be fraught with danger. After all, why would Larry need to gather all of these people if the job was going to be easy? The very presence of so many individuals hinted at the gravity of the situation they were about to face.
Among the group, there was a mix of personalities and physical appearances. Some of the young men were big and athletic, exuding confidence and strength, while others, like Larry himself, were shorter and thinner. If you looked closely through the crowd, you could even spot some individuals who were quite overweight. This diversity was striking, and it made Erin wonder about the nature of the mission that required such a varied group of people to be assembled.
Some of the men looked poor, their clothes worn and tattered, while others appeared stable and well-off, dressed in clean, fitted attire. It was a rare sight to behold, a collection of individuals from different walks of life coming together for a common purpose. What kind of mission would necessitate the gathering of such a diverse group? The question lingered in Erin's mind, adding to the tension in the air.
Erin, one of the younger members of the group, didn't want to draw too much attention to himself. He was well-known in the gang, but not in a way that he liked. He preferred to stay in the background, away from the spotlight, and simply observe. He wanted to move to the back of the room and hide there until it was time for the meeting to begin, but it seemed that luck was not on his side today.
"Hello, Erin," a voice called out, and it felt like a stab to his chest. He already knew what was coming next, and he braced himself for the interaction.
"I don't think I caught your name," Erin replied, genuinely unsure of who the man was. He had seen him around but had never spoken to him before.
"Oh no, this is our first time talking," the man said with a grin. "I would like to spar with you a bit to take down some of my nerves. But you may not know this, you're quite famous among us fighters."
"Yeah, famous for the wrong reasons," Erin thought to himself, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over him.
"I don't think I will be able to spar with you right now," Erin said, trying to deflect the situation. "We are about to begin the mission, maybe another time." As he said this, he was secretly concocting a plan to escape from his current predicament.
Should he run away, or should he stay and fight? Either choice he made would attract attention, and attention was the last thing he wanted. He felt trapped in a situation he couldn't control.
"Come on, it will be quick," the man insisted, his enthusiasm palpable. "I just want a little fight."
Before Erin could respond, the man dashed towards him, one of his hands glowing a light green. The sight startled Erin, and he felt a rush of adrenaline. Why was it that everyone he met seemed so unreasonable? You don't just go and start punching another person without warning.
The only reason Erin got bullied so much was that in this world, people had abilities. These powers were extraordinary, the kind you would only see in mangas or animes. But the problem was that he was among a rare class of people—those who had gained no ability at all. He was a human without powers, and that made him feel vulnerable.
Even among those rare humans without abilities, he was quite special. Most of them were still physically stronger than the average human. Even very obese individuals without abilities could dash at incredible speeds and run marathons, but Erin found himself at a disadvantage. His strength was even less than that of an average human, and he often felt like a target.
He often wondered why the gang wouldn't sell him; he would fetch a large price in the black market. But for some reason, they still kept him around. Perhaps they saw some value in him that he couldn't see himself.
Now back to reality, he had no time to dwell on his downfalls as he was about to experience one right now. The man didn't even let him respond to his question; he had already dashed towards Erin's stomach. Even though Erin was slower than the man, he could at least raise both of his hands to block the incoming attack. When the fist connected, he felt a jolt of pain shoot through his arms, as if they were about to fall off. Thankfully, they remained intact, but the impact left him reeling.
Due to the force of the blow, Erin lost his balance, and the man took advantage of that moment to move behind him and punch him again. This time, he had nowhere to dodge and no way to block the attack. When the fist connected, he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, as if he were going to throw up from the sheer force of the hit.
Just as the man was about to throw another punch, a fist came out of nowhere and stopped it dead in its tracks.
"What do you think you're doing?" a familiar voice boomed. "I called you guys here for a job, not to fight like animals."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Larry," the man stammered, realizing he had crossed a line.
"It's alright," Larry replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "Now go back to wherever you were staying because the briefing is about to start."
Erin, still reeling from the blows, felt a mix of relief and frustration. "Are you okay, Erin?" the man asked, his words sounding like what someone would say when they cared about another person's condition. But his eyes told a completely different story—they were cold as ice, devoid of any real concern.
"I'm fine," Erin replied curtly, trying to brush off the encounter.
"Good," the man said, his response short and dismissive. He didn't even offer a hand to help Erin up and simply walked away, leaving him to gather himself.
Larry walked up to the front of the crowd, and as he did, all chatter ceased to exist. When everyone saw him approach, their faces tensed, as even they knew something significant was about to go down. The atmosphere shifted, and the air felt thick with anticipation.
He reached the front, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the crowd grew even more tense, hanging on his every word.
"Why the hell are you guys so tense?" Larry asked, his voice booming. "It's just a bodyguard mission."