--------------------------------
Snow drips off the bangs of Richter’s hair as he finds his footing. Unlucky as he may have been today, he soon realizes the onslaught was just beginning.
“Damn, he sure is a rat bastard, isn’t he?”
“What are we going to do with him… haaah.”
In annoyance of their “client” having escaped their comeuppance, the thug duo starts to argue.
“You shoulda grabbed him while you had the chance asshole! Instead, you decided to threaten him like some generic thug in a movie!”
“We literally are thugs, and you know I don’t like getting physical if I don’t have to.”
“Then what good is your massive body for if you don’t like getting physical!? Are you slow?! Literally and mentally???!”
“Hey, don’t say crap like that!”
“OH, so now YOU’RE cussing? I thought you don’t do that, Mr. “Wannabe gentleman who’s also a street thug”?!”
“Sorry…”
“...”
Both men slowly stared down to their feet. Richter responded with utter silence.
“...”
The large one frowned as he looked into his eyes, while the foulmouthed one started grinning.
“You know what I’m thinking, right Johnny? The boss is gonna get reaaally pissed off if we come back tomorrow empty-handed. We let that ratshit escape, but as long as we get money that equals what he owes, we’re home free!
Johnny replies with sharp dissatisfaction in his voice.
“Not again Jules… Every time with you, you always want to get random people involved in our business. This kid has nothing to do with us, nor our client.”
“Yeah yeah, but you know the type of shit boss does to those who can’t do their tasks, right?”
“Right, but…..”
As Richter attempts to slide out of the scene, Johnny starts to speak firmly.
“Hey kid, we’re gonna need whatever you got on you. Cash, cards, technology, and other valuables. If you don’t comply, you won’t like the pain you’ll soon be in.
“YEAH! Give up your shit or I’ll give you some mighty fine scars! I heard ladies love dudes with cool scars!”
“...”
Johnny cracks his fists while Jules swings two army knives out of his jacket.
Richter finally tries to speak his way through the situation.
“I don’t have much guys! I’m a broke college student working a low-end job, why not rob literally anybody else?”
“Shut the hell up and just give us your shit, kid!”
“So the sympathy card isn’t gonna work… god I’ve had one hell of day…”
In the blink of an eye, Richter jumps up from the wet ground and spreads snow all over the thugs.
Wiping snow from his eyes, Johnny blinks them open only to see the blurry sight of a red object hurling towards his location.
*CONK*
Time seemingly slows as a can of cola bounces hard off the massive thug’s forehead.
Jules, wide-eyed, sees his partner thud onto the concrete and shouts.
“JOHNNY! What the hell just happened?!”
Richter cuts off his cries towards his comrade.
“You think I’m gonna put up with even more shit today?! Everything’s already going to hell!”
“What in the flying fuck are you talking about?! I don’t give a horse’s ass about what you’re going through, you just hit my bro ASSHOLE!!”
Jules dashes forward, both knives gripped tightly in his hands as his arms are crossed in front of him. Richter’s eyes dilate as he realizes the dire situation he just put himself in. He can’t fight against someone with knives, no matter how athletic he was. He had to think of an option of defense quickly.
There was nothing in his reach that could even substitute a weapon he could use in order to fight back. The only thing near his person was the bag of popcorn that’d fallen out of his bag alongside the cola he’d already thrown.
“Screw it all.” Richter whispered to himself as he swiftly picked up the bag and held it in front of the slashing knife.
Popcorn kernels started flying everywhere as the bag popped open.
Jules got startled at the sudden popping, and lost his focus within the storm of popcorn. In that brief moment, Richter swung his leg straight into the thug’s jaw.
“Caack!”
Jules was out for the count, his knives clattering onto the pavement next to Johnny’s head.
His eyes re-open after hearing the metal of the familiar knives in front of him. Seeing the body of his partner hit the ground, they suddenly shoot wide open.
“JULES! What happened?!”
He darts his eyes toward the figure who’d just knocked out his friend, focusing all of his inner bloodlust onto the target.
“YOU! What do you think you’re doing to my friend?!”
“You’re the ones who suddenly wanted to attack me! Let me go the hell home alrea- GHURRK!”
Richter felt a massive force impact his side. His eyes drifted toward the sight of a massive, tree trunk-type leg kicked deep into his jacket, sending him flying to a wall the next moment.
He was unable to move. Every inch of his body was feeling the course of shock traveling across it. His head slammed back against the wall as his hair was being pulled.
“Now that you’re nice and still, let's see what you have…”
Johnny starts running his massive hand into Richter’s pockets, searching for any valuables he can steal.
“...”
Richter’s mind was racing with thoughts.
Why does he always find himself in a mess? Why him specifically? Did the universe have a strict vendetta towards him?
He always gets up, always falls back down again. He couldn’t seem to reach any high point in his life, no matter how much he tried. Not in a long time.
He felt like the chains of fate always trapped him in this mundane cycle of misfortune.
“You’re in full control of your life Richter. You may not believe it right now, but trust me, fate isn’t inescapable…”
“...in the slightest, right?”
Recalling Mr. Ryans’ words from earlier, a burning sensation fills Richter. He felt it emanating from his eyes, down to his torso, arms, legs, and his very spirit.
“Huh, so you’re still with us? Just don’t go mov-... ?!!”
Richter gripped the arm that was searching his jacket with extreme force.
“I’ve had enough sitting still.”
“HEY, GET OFF ME- AAAAGHHH!”
Johnny screamed in immense pain as Richter’s grip tightened.
Richter whispered to himself.
“I don’t know anything about fate. It’s all beyond me right now. All I want to do is get home and fall dead asleep in my bed!”
Raising his voice, he thrusts his fist straight into the man’s abdomen, digging deep into his abs, relentlessly twisting his shirt along with it.
“GHHHHhhh…..”
Johnny falls to one knee, then the other, slowly falling once more to the ground.
Both thugs are completely silent.
Adrenaline still coursed Richter’s veins. The sight he created was something unfathomable to him under normal circumstances, yet at the moment the only thing he wanted was to leave the scene and go home.
“I should call the police, but they’d just question me throughout the rest of the night.”
As he monologued, Richter noticed the can of cherry cola he’d thrown. Not a single dent was visible on it, and it was still as cold as when he bought it.
He purges the confusion out of his mind with thoughts of rest and puts the can in his jacket pocket.
Richter walks away from the alley, leaving behind the slender knife-wielder and the muscular thug with a hole in his shirt where he was just punched.
----------------------------------------------
Act 3
*Click*
Turning his key, Richter arrives at his destination after a long, long journey it felt like.
But he wasn’t worried about what just happened. The only worry in his mind was what to watch on his TV as he fell asleep.
He threw himself onto his couch, slammed his cherry cola down on the counter, and grabbed his remote.
The corner of the TV displays the current time:
“12:35 am”
Sighing, Richter sinks into the couch while he browses the stream of movies and shows offered.
After choosing a cheesy action movie from the 90s, he cracks open the lid of his drink and takes a sip.
“...?”
Except, there wasn’t any liquid touching his lips. Upon closer inspection, the insides of the can were completely frozen.
“Jesus, how cold did they keep their freezers at?”
After his sarcastic remark, Richter leaves the can on his counter and stretches back, closing his eyes all the while.
*Click*
“Hm?”
Richter darts his eyes to his front door, still as shut as he’d left it.
Despite seeing that there was nothing wrong with the door, he’d still heard something that sounded like its doorknob clicking.
He gets up and turns it. The handle doesn’t budge.
“I should probably sleep… I’ve had a long day, this might be telling of it.”
The moment he turns around, he feels a small, warm sensation come from the back of his neck.
“Richter Wavehart.”
A familiar voice rings near his ears.
“Who’s ther-... ?!”
Before he could finish his statement, his vision faded into darkness, slowly descending back onto his couch.
“I wonder… what lies within your memories that let you do that? What do you think about as you walk through your daily life?”
“What do you dream about, underneath that veil you show yourself?”
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