Marcus's mind raced, his thoughts sharp and methodical. The air in the flower shop felt heavy with fear, the kind that clung to every breath. Turning back to the counter, he glimpsed the clerk—Gabriela, his divinity revealed. Her wide eyes darted between Marcus and the man with the gun, her hands trembling as sweat rolled down her temple. Anxiety radiated from her in waves, a palpable fear that she might never see her family again.
The cash register, the bouquet Marcus had chosen, and a few scattered pens cluttered the counter—but his attention landed on a neat stack of business cards near his arm. Without drawing any notice, Marcus smoothly slipped one into the palm of his hand, concealing it as he turned back toward the intruder.
"YOU! BEHIND THE COUNTER! EMPTY THE CASH OUT!" The man's voice thundered through the small shop, his desperation breaking through every word.
Marcus allowed the divine energy within him to churn, spreading through his body like a warm current. As it surged, the surrounding shop revealed itself in intricate detail, the threads of reality untangling before his eyes. Time seemed to slow, not in the dramatic way mortals might imagine, but as though Marcus's mind had accelerated, processing everything around him with supernatural clarity.
He shifted his focus to Gabriela, and more than just her fear unraveled before him. Her life came into view like a vivid, fleeting memory. She was exhausted, her thoughts consumed by her two younger sisters at home, whom she cared for while her mother worked grueling hours to keep a roof over their heads. The edges of her hope flickered faintly, overshadowed by the panic of this moment.
Marcus's gaze shifted to the gunman. His divine sight pierced through the man's anger and desperation, revealing a life weighed down by impossible burdens. He had just stormed out of his house after a heated phone call with his insurance company. His finances were in shambles, and his daughter—critically ill—needed a treatment he couldn't afford. He wasn't evil. He clawed at the world, broken, to keep his child alive. But Marcus saw it all: even if this robbery succeeded, fate wouldn't bend in the man's favor.
Down the street, an off-duty cop stood near a coffee shop, oblivious to the unfolding drama. Marcus saw the inevitable—Daniel, the man before him, fleeing with a gun in hand, spotted by the officer. The confrontation would escalate, ending in tragedy, with either the cop or Daniel lying dead in the street. The money he sought so desperately wouldn't save his daughter, and it would only rob her of the father she so desperately needed.
Marcus slowed the divine energy in his chest, allowing time to return to its natural pace. His focus sharpened as the world resumed its motion.
"Listen, Daniel," Marcus said calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "This isn't going to work the way you think it will."
The man froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing as suspicion and fear twisted his expression. "HOW… how do you know my name?"
The barrel of the gun swung toward Marcus, its cold metal glinting faintly in the light. The trembling in Daniel's hands betrayed his resolve. "TELL ME, YOU BASTARD!"
Marcus remained unfazed, his tone steady but firm. "It doesn't matter how I know," he said, holding Daniel's gaze. "What matters is that if you go through with this, Cindy will lose her only chance at surviving."
Daniel's expression shifted, his anger giving way to confusion and apprehension. The grip on the gun loosened slightly as he took a shaky step back. "What—what are you talking about? How do you know her name?"
"I know what you're going through," Marcus said, taking a small step forward, careful to keep his movements measured and nonthreatening. "I know you need money. And I know you feel like this is your only option. But if you do this, Daniel, you'll never get the chance to help Cindy. This will only make things worse."
"You don't know anything!" Daniel shouted, though his voice wavered. His knuckles tightened around the gun as his finger brushed the trigger, trembling with indecision.
Marcus exhaled, his voice softening. "I want to help you," he said sincerely. "But you need to trust me, Daniel. This path you're on… it won't end the way you want it to."
Daniel's frustration boiled over, and with a sudden motion, he closed the distance between them, pressing the barrel of the gun against Marcus's chest. "And what exactly can you do?" he spat, his voice low and venomous. "I'm the one with the gun!"
As the words left his lips, Daniel took a heavy step forward, his boot slamming against the old wooden floorboards. The loud crack of splintering wood echoed through the shop as his foot broke through a rotten board, trapping him in place.
Confusion crossed Daniel's face as he looked down, his balance faltering. Marcus remained calm, the moment unfolding exactly as he had foreseen. With the gunman's attention diverted, Marcus channeled his divine energy into the business card concealed in his hand.
The edges of the card began to glow faintly, the divine threads woven into it coming to life under Marcus's will. This wasn't just a simple piece of cardstock anymore—it was a conduit, a focus for the power Marcus was about to unleash.
"Daniel," Marcus said softly, his voice steady as his divinity began to hum. "You need to listen to me. This isn't your end—it's your chance."