New York City, the city that never sleeps and never tires of working, has a quiet morning unlike its vibrant night.
The sound of the door knocking gradually increases, once, then twice, and three times, with blows that almost dislodge it from its place. No, it will truly dislodge it if no one moves. The knocking intensified, and with it, smoke from the fire seeped through the joints of the small room.
At that moment, the old man Jerry, a man on the brink of sixty, with a dark complexion, his face marked by a few wrinkles that would undoubtedly increase with the coming years, woke up. His hair was completely gray, reflecting his age. Jerry, the owner of an old and beloved store, tried to comprehend what was happening around him amidst this chaos. What had happened? And why did he feel as if eons had passed?
He shouted in question, wiping his face with his palms: "What the hell is going on here?!" Then he suddenly remembered the pain he felt near the back of his head. "Where is that damn bastard?" he said angrily, then stood up, looking around trying to understand the situation.
He was inside a small room he recognized quickly. It was his old office, the place where he spent most of his time organizing papers and taking care of his beloved store.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of two young boys, probably 12 or 13 years old. Jerry could guess that, and he began to think that they were the ones who had saved him. One of them was sitting near him, his face looking familiar, while the other sat on the ground, clasping his hands with his feet. Sweat was trickling down his face and his dark hair, which had the color of black honey.
When he fully regained consciousness, he recognized the first boy. He was Chris, a thirteen-year-old boy who had been living in the same neighborhood as the store for four years. As for the other boy, he seemed unfamiliar to him. He had only seen him during the last visit, Chris's friend who had moved to the neighborhood recently. Anyone who could recognize his dark purple jacket would easily know him.
"Do you mean the man behind the door who is trying to blow us up with his laser gun? Yes, he's there," said Joey, in the purple jacket, as Jerry had described him when he thought for a moment.
"What gun?!" Jerry the old man replied with a choked voice as he struggled to get up from the ground. Even if he tried to remember, he knew that the person behind the door might do something worse. He hadn't done anything yet, but the possibility was there. Jerry got up and listened to the sound.
"Mr. Jerry, what's really going on here? I'm wondering. Why is that man outside trying to kill us all, especially you? What drove him mad like this?" Chris asked as he stood close to him.
Jerry replied with a voice carrying some confusion: "I don't know the exact reason or the type of disputes that might justify this. But those men in suits, young people from an active company, always used to come to my store."
They always try to convince me with their ridiculous plans, talking about expanding their projects and that my store is part of this expansion. They tried to entice me to sell the land for a large sum of money... It seems this method has worked with some people here and in other areas, but it hasn't worked with me. I have repeatedly rejected their offers, for many months. And even tonight, I will remain steadfast in my refusal.
Jerry poured out his repressed feelings of sadness and anxiety before moving towards the wall. He took out an old axe that was hanging next to a sign that read: "In case of emergency."
Heading towards the door whose strong knocks had fallen silent, while the sounds of the old fire's crackling began to rise, breaking apart and laughing uproariously, producing thick smoke that made it hard for everyone to breathe easily.
"If it requires me to kill tonight while defending what I own, then I have no need to fear anymore. After all, he is a robot, devoid of emotions to scream under the blows of my axe. He brought this fate upon himself. Step back, things are going to get chaotic." Jerry said sternly, stepping forward, while Chris and Joey followed him nervously, the words stuck in their throats.
The door had previously withstood the blows of his mighty fist, but now it was shrouded in silence like the silence of the room. Everyone had quieted down, awaiting the moment of fate that was supposed to happen in the next fifteen seconds.
And suddenly, the door exploded from its place. It wasn't just removed; its parts scattered, accompanied by torrents of flames that devoured parts of the ancient store with a blue gleam emitted by a laser gun, shattering the door into fragments that flew into the air like fallen autumn leaves.
In the darkness of the room illuminated by tongues of fire, he stood there, his eyes scanning the lurking shadows, searching for his prey.
"There is no escape for you today or tomorrow. Wherever you go, I will find you. What I have been programmed to do is what I will do!" The man spoke in a calm tone, standing firmly. His left hand was human, while the other was a shiny silver mechanical one. He wore an elegant black suit with the company emblem printed near his tie, consisting of five points: one in the center, surrounded by four points distributed above, below, and on either side, in a precise symmetrical pattern.
Jerry burst through the broken door, wielding an axe with a blade glinting under the dim firelight. His thoughts were solely focused on protecting himself and his store. If he couldn't defeat him, he would at least try to push him back, allowing Joey and Chris to escape safely.
But the man in the black suit dodged the rusty axe strikes with astonishing agility, as if he were playing with a small child, not an old bearded man decades older than him. He stepped back a few paces, then raised his mechanical hand, which transformed into a sleek silver gun, its edges smooth and its tip shiny, ready to attack.
He fired at Jerry, who barely managed to dodge the glowing bullets, like the lights of wet crystal. Jerry narrowly avoided the shots, but they caused chaos throughout the cramped old office. The whistling of the bullets passed by his ear like the whispers of lurking death, time and again.
They exchanged blows violently. The man in the suit delivered a punch to Jerry's face with enough force to shake the ground, exploiting a slight opening, but Jerry didn't give up. He stood swaying on his trembling legs, exhausted and on the verge of losing consciousness again, but he held on to his resolve. He looked towards Chris and Joey, who were standing near the broken door. He realized it was their chance to escape, and he was ready to do anything to ensure their survival, even if it meant losing this battle.
Jerry attacked with the axe again and again, each blow tearing through the air violently. His wrist ached, and the annoying headache weighed him down, but the axe did not hit its target.
In a crucial moment, the man in the suit seized the opportunity and kicked Jerry hard in the stomach. The blow was strong enough to knock the axe out of his hand and send him crashing to the ground painfully.
Jerry rolled on the ground littered with debris, trying to get up with all the strength he had left, but his body betrayed him. He succumbed to chronic fatigue, finding himself engulfed in disappointment that had been written for him from the beginning.
The man in the suit approached Jerry's lying head. The other could only hear the sound of his footsteps as he arrived. The laser gun in his hand emitted a deep blue light, like a cold night. He realized that the end was near, and that he was about to finish Jerry and complete the mission assigned to him by his agency's parties. He prepared to shoot Jerry.
But suddenly, Chris appeared out of nowhere, armed with a fire extinguisher that had been previously set aside. He attacked bravely, but his assault bore no fruit. The man in the suit caught him with a firm grip. It wasn't difficult for him, even breaking the hand he had grabbed, as if it were just a routine move.
In a moment of despair that Chris thought was the end, he clung to any possible hope. But at that moment, Joey lunged with his axe, delivering a surprise blow to the man in the suit. The attack severed the man's mechanical hand, and the arm looked like it was about to completely detach.
Joey continued his attack with another strike aimed at the man's neck. He had no intention of letting up, after all, this monster was an annoying threat weighing on their necks. But the man dodged the blow skillfully, easily evading Joey's twist, who in the end seemed just an inexperienced teenager. Even controlling the axe in his hand was truly difficult for him.
But the third blow was unavoidable. It struck the man's face with terrifying precision, in a sudden moment of joy, amidst the cold sweat pouring from him on a hot night.
Half of the suited man's face crumbled to the ground like a statue made of fragile clay. The blow revealed the mechanics hidden beneath the layer of fake human skin covering his body. One of his eyes went out, while the other remained coldly staring at Joey.
Joey stood tall, the axe in his hand dripping with a transparent liquid that fell when it struck the man. He didn't know what this liquid was, but he remained steadfast, his hands trembling slowly under the weight of what had happened.
Flames are raging around them, and Joey's face glistens with the sweat of tension, while a trembling smile barely holds on his lips. He said in a shaky voice:
"Fortunately, you are a robot... Otherwise, I would be a criminal now, and my punishment could destroy me. But... it's okay, I'm fine."
His voice pierced through the roar of the flames with an unsettling calm.
The man in the suit rose slowly, his pale face looking terrifying, as if the chill of death had settled on his features. That scene instilled fear into the marrow of Joey's bones, but he did not retreat. The man advanced with steady steps, undeterred by danger, while Joey, clinging to the remnants of his courage, attacked him with the axe with desperate force.
The man withstood a single blow from his hand, as if death meant nothing to him but a game. Suddenly, Chris pounced like a storm, holding a fire extinguisher in his hand, and began striking the man's head violently. The blows continued, their echoes resonating throughout the store amidst the roar of the rising flames.
After moments that felt like an eternity, Joey and Chris stood swaying, carrying the old man in their trembling arms. Exhaustion and thick smoke enveloped them, but their goal was singular: to escape the store succumbing to the hungry flames. Behind them, the man in the cloak lay on the ground, half-dead, like a shattered doll that had lost all life.
They headed towards the exit, their breaths struggling against the smoke that choked their chests, and their feet stumbling among the scattered debris. After a struggle that nearly cost them their lives, they finally reached the open air, where the sirens of the police and fire trucks greeted them, as if it were the music of salvation, restoring a glimmer of hope.
Joey, with fatigue etched on his face, turned to Chris and asked him in a hoarse voice, almost breaking:
"Chris, are you okay?"
Chris replied, her tone hiding a deep pain behind her words that sounded heavy and solemn to me, "Yes, I'm fine. But old Jerry... he doesn't look like he used to."
The old man Jerry, who could barely get up, his consciousness teetering on the edge of oblivion, said with anger blazing like fire:
"Did that scoundrel die?"
Chris, with his eyes sparkling with the pride of victory, replied firmly:
"We smashed his head. I guarantee you won't see him again."
Joey, with doubt creeping into his voice, wondered: "Are there... people like him here too, or is he the only one? It seems like there's a dark cloud hovering over this place, and I'm just a fool tonight."
Amid the charged atmosphere that followed the disaster, the voice of the old man Jerry echoed quietly with dignity: "That crazy man was from a small tech company called Berry, founded not too long ago... that's all I know."
He took a deep breath and added gratefully, "The most important thing is that we are fine now, and I sincerely want to thank you both. Without you, I would be dead by now. Thank you both once again." One of Jerry's employees, who had fled the moment the fire broke out, approached to help Jerry stand and led him towards the ambulance waiting silently.
Joey, lying on the ground, slowly got up and extended his hand towards Chris, saying, "Let's go, or would you prefer to stay here?" He smiled wearily, but with apparent ease.
Chris, holding Joey's hand to help him up, replied in a hoarse voice, "Yeah, let's head home... Tonight still feels like a strange dream to me, I can't believe what happened." He paused for a moment as if something had just crossed his mind, then said, "Oh, I forgot. Tomorrow I'll introduce you to Dave and Alex, and we have many other friends and acquaintances nearby since it's your first half day in New York."
Joey, walking beside Chris, exclaimed enthusiastically, "Yes, I'm excited to meet them." Then he fell silent for a few seconds, the stillness accompanying them, before breaking the silence with a clear laugh: "Just silly fantasies, right?" His laugh seemed to chase away all the shadows that had weighed down the night.
Chris looked at him with a moment of confusion, then smiled in understanding. They continued walking together towards home, leaving behind the chaos and fear, and heading towards safety and comfort.