Inside the "SUNSET: Jack of All Trades," the air was thick with the scent of sawdust, motor oil, and the salt from Tobias's chips. The elementary school boy stood at the designated line, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in intense concentration. He gripped a plastic-tipped dart like it was a holy relic.
Whiz!
The dart flew wide, bouncing off the wooden frame of the board and clattering onto the floor. Tobias didn't even lift his eyes from the pages of his Shoujo manga, but a tiny, mocking smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Darn it! One more!" the boy yelled, his face turning red.
He threw the second. Thwack. It hit the wall. The third followed suit, failing to even graze the target.
"I failed..." the boy whispered, looking devastated. Then, he looked up at Tobias with a spark of defiance. "Hey, Mister! Give me a prize anyway!"
Tobias finally turned a page, his expression flat. "You missed every single shot, kid. In the real world, missing has consequences. In this shop, it means no candy. Pay your tab or get out."
"Hmph! You're no fun at all!" the boy huffed. In a fit of childish frustration, he lunged for a spare dart sitting on Tobias's counter and flicked it toward the board without looking.
It was a freak accident. The dart didn't hit the board. It struck a metal shelf, ricocheted off a hanging wrench, zipped past a stack of tires, and found a very specific target: the backside of a burly, middle-aged man who was just standing up after finishing a sandwich in the corner seating area.
"YEE-OWCH!"
The man let out a roar that shook the windows. He clutched his rear, spinning around to see the dart sticking out of his denim jeans. A small red dot began to bloom on the fabric. "What the hell?! You little brat! Look at my butt! It's bleeding!"
The man, a rough-looking laborer with a short temper, lunged forward and snatched the boy up by his collar, lifting him off the ground.
"I-I'm sorry!" the boy squeaked, dangling in mid-air.
The lady in the apron Tobias's older sister gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. "Oh? No! Tobi, what should we do? He's going to hurt him!"
Tobias remained seated, his eyes still tracking the dialogue in his manga. To anyone else, he looked lazy. In reality, he was measuring the man's heart rate, the tension in his shoulder, and the distance between them down to the millimeter.
"Please let me go!" the boy cried out. In his panic, his hands flailed, and he accidentally jabbed the man's forearm with the other dart he was still holding.
"ARGH! YOU LITTLE DEVIL!" The man shrieked in pain, dropping the boy. The kid hit the floor with a heavy thud, landing right on his tailbone.
The man's face turned a deep purple. He raised a massive, calloused hand, winding up for a slap that would have sent the child spinning. "I'll teach you some manners!"
Snap.
The man's hand stopped inches from the boy's face. Tobias was suddenly there. He hadn't seemed to move, but he was standing between them, his hand wrapped around the man's wrist like a steel manacle.
"Please, please," Tobias said, his voice dropping into a low, practiced tone of de-escalation. His face was a mask of polite concern. "You don't have to take it that far. He's just a kid. They make mistakes. We all make mistakes, right?"
"Let go of me, you punk!" the man growled, trying to yank his arm back. He found that Tobias's grip didn't budge not even a fraction of an inch. It was like being held by a hydraulic press.
"I can't do that," Tobias said, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Not while you're trying to hit a child in my family's store."
Infuriated, the man swung his other fist in a wild haymaker aimed at Tobias's jaw. Tobias didn't even let go of the wrist. He simply tilted his head back two inches. The fist whistled past his nose. The man swung again a low gut punch. Tobias pivoted his hips, the blow glancing off the air. To the lady and the boy, it looked like the man was just terrible at fighting. To a professional, it would have looked like Tobias was dancing around a slow-motion statue.
Suddenly, the door chimed. A police officer walked in, looking for a cup of coffee. "What's going on in here?"
Tobias immediately let go and stepped back, holding his hands up innocently. "Nothing, sir! Just a friendly exchange. We were just discussing the safety of the dart game."
The man looked at the cop, then at his bleeding hand, and then at Tobias. He could see the "bored" teenager staring back at him, but for a split second, he saw something else a coldness in Tobias's eyes that made his blood run cold. He knew he couldn't land a hit. He knew if he stayed, he was the one who would end up in handcuffs.
"Whatever! This place is a madhouse!" the man barked, turning on his heel and storming out of the store.
The elementary school boy sat on the floor, fat tears welling in his eyes. Tobias sighed and reached into a small refrigerated unit, pulling out a carton of orange juice. He tossed it, and the boy caught it with a sniffle.
"Thank you, Mister..."
"There, there, don't cry anymore," the lady said, kneeling down to pat the boy's head. "Keep smiling, okay? You're safe now."
"We need to get to work," Tobias muttered, turning back to his counter. "That floor isn't going to mop itself."
"Brilliant moves," a new voice rang out from the doorway. It was smooth, confident, and carried an edge of mockery. "Although, you could have ended that in 0.4 seconds by shattering his radius and ulna. You've grown soft, 'Ghost.' Or just very patient."
Tobias froze. That voice. It was a ghost from a life he had buried.
The boy with the auburn hair and the blue jacket stepped into the light. He looked around the dusty shop with a smirk of pure disbelief.
"It's been a long time, Bro Tobias. After five years of searching every corner of the underworld, it is I..and only I..Silas Adler, who has found the legend!" Silas struck a dramatic pose, his red hair glowing in the shop's fluorescent lights. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your best partner!"
Tobias didn't move. He didn't hug him. He didn't even look surprised. He simply reached for the rotary telephone on the desk and began dialing three digits.
"Hello? Police?" Tobias said into the receiver, his voice flat. "There's a suspicious-looking pervert in my store. He's talking to himself and making strange poses. Please send someone to collect him."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A PERVERT?!" Silas screamed, his cool persona instantly shattering into a panicked mess. He lunged across the counter, trying to grab the phone. "It's me! Silas! We used to share a bunk in the assassin barracks! We burned down an entire compound together in the desert! Hang up that phone, Bro Tobias!"