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“You know the drill! Give me all the money in the register—now!” The robber wore a mask and aimed a pistol at her face.
The clerk attempted to cover her face and chest with her trembling hands and arms. “Please don’t hurt me,” she said softly, moving toward the register.
“Shut up, bitch! Just put the money in the bag and be quiet.” The robber jerked his arm forward as though he was going to hit her with the gun.
Stephen, hiding behind the shelves at the end of one aisle, could hear them clearly. With fear coursing through his body, he cautiously peered around the snack filled shelf.
“Y-you know, there’s not a lot of money.” The store clerk, who seemed to be choking on her own tears, struggled to get her words out. “We haven’t had almost any c-customers all night.”
“Just give me everything you got! Now!”
She handed him the bag. “That’s everything.”
The criminal looked into the bag. “That’s it? This is pathetic!”
“I-I t-told you, w-we didn’t have a-a lot of customers.”
“Shut up!” He glanced around the store before turning back to her. “You have a safe here, don’t you?”
The clerk nodded.
“Alright, take me to it and put everything in it in this bag.”
“But I don’t k-know the com—”
He smacked her in the face with the pistol.
“Shut up! I know you know it, so take me to it now!”
He leaped over the counter and stood over her while she sobbed uncontrollably.
Stephen felt a nausea come over him like never before. Unsure whether it was due to the horror of what he’d just seen, or if it was because of all the emotions he’d unlocked earlier in the day, but Stephen knew he couldn’t stand by and watch any longer.
Stephen walked straight to him, making no attempt to conceal his presence.
“Hey! What are you doing here old man?”
Stephen didn’t answer. Nor did he slow his approach.
“Whoah, w-what are you doing?”
Stephen was dimly aware that something about his demeanor—his cold indifference? his disregard for his own safety?—seemed to frighten the masked thief, who had taken a step back.
Stephen continued to bear down on him.
“I’m warning you, man, I’ll pull the trigger. I swear! Best just leave now old man and don’t look back!”
Stephen wasn’t the same old man who’d walked into the store almost an hour earlier. There was no limp in his leg. The slight hunch in his back had also disappeared as he drew himself up to his full height, flexing back muscles he rarely used anymore. His gnarled hands had turned into fists, and the veins in his arms swelled as his neglected muscles were suddenly given new life. His body had undergone a complete transformation, and even though the man aiming a pistol at him was about the same height, Stephen felt as if he towered over him.
“I’m not going to tell you again, man, get out of here or I’ll shoot!”
Stephen was now inches away from the bore of the pistol, which was pointed at his chest.
His eyes locked with the robber’s—as they had been the entire time—Stephen waited to see whether he would actually pull the trigger. Seeing fear rather than determination in those eyes, Stephen smirked and snatched the pistol with his left hand. A shot went off, but the bullet only exploded a few bags of chips on a shelf behind him.
Off balance, the thief stumbled over the counter to Stephen’s right, where his fist was waiting. In one smooth turn of the hips and twist of his torso, Stephen launched his fist into his adversary’s face, cracking his nose and sending him flying to the side. The gunman lay on the floor groaning. His palm scorched by the shot that had gone off, Stephen now held the pistol. He stared down at the thief. Bending over, he lifted the mask, which was soaked with blood from his broken nose. He seemed to be a younger man, maybe in his late twenties with unkempt stubble and tatters hair. His skin was rough aside from the facial hair, and shined with an oily texture.
“P-please man, I’m so sorry. Please, I’ll never come back here or hurt anyone ever again. I promise, just please don’t kill me. Please.” The man tried to crawl away, a blood-slick hand twice slipping on the tiled floor.
