Tobias let out a long, weary sigh, closing his manga with a soft thud. He stood up, the movement fluid and silent, a ghost of his former grace hidden under the baggy work apron.
"Let's go outside to talk," Tobias said, gesturing toward the back exit. "My sister needs to offload the new shipment. I'll be out back with this pervert for a few minutes, Sis!"
"How many times do I have to tell you?! I'm an elite tracker!" Silas barked, though he followed Tobias like a scolded puppy.
"Okay, Tobi!" his sister's cheerful voice rang out from the storage room. "Just make sure you don't fight with your friend! Be nice, or no dessert tonight!"
Once they were in the narrow alleyway behind the shop, away from the prying eyes of customers, the air changed. The city noise seemed to fade. Silas immediately reached over and snatched the soda can from Tobias's hand, popping the tab and taking a long, aggressive gulp.
"So, it's true then," Silas said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "The rumors in the dark web were actually right. You got your memories back after that plane crash five years ago. You found your family, you quit the game, and now... you're a store owner? A 'Jack of All Trades'?" Silas spat the words out like they were poison. "It's insulting, Tobi. Truly insulting."
"Yes, yes, and yes to all your questions," Tobias replied, sounding incredibly bored. He leaned against a stack of wooden pallets and opened a bag of potato chips, the crinkle of the plastic loud in the quiet alley. "My name is Tobias Sunset now. Just a regular guy who fixes sinks and sells lightbulbs. Get used to it."
"Please come back, Senior Tobias!" Silas suddenly pleaded, his dramatic persona crumbling into desperation. "The business is a mess without you. The syndicates are at each other's throats because the 'Ghost' isn't there to keep the balance! You're still the best. You're fit, you're young, and you're the most dangerous person I've ever met!"
"My days as a mercenary are over, Silas. Stop asking for the impossible," Tobias said, crunching on a chip.
"Oh, come on! You were feared by every kingpin and warlord on the planet before you could even shave!" Silas yelled, waving his arms. "We called you the Ultimate Mercenary. You were the Ghost. The '001.' The Ace of the entire underworld. Why would you throw all that away? All the power, the money, the legend you built with your own hands... gone? For what? Selling hammers?"
Tobias reached into a small nylon bag he had been carrying. He pulled out a soft, golden pastry. "Oh, this is actually really good. Want some cream puffs? Or maybe the cheese puffs? I bought them from the bakery down the street. They have a 2-for-1 special on Tuesdays."
Silas stared at the cream puff being offered to him, his jaw hanging open. "Ah, shit! You're not even listening to me! You... the guy who used to survive on raw protein and spite... you have a sweet tooth now? You're eating puffs?"
Silas sighed, his shoulders sagging. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one with a trembling hand. "Honestly, I can't even recognize you anymore. You've gone soft, Tobi."
Tobias tilted his head, watching the smoke curl into the air. "So, you smoke now?"
"Yeah," Silas muttered, blowing a cloud of gray smoke. He looked at Tobias's relaxed posture and a dark smirk crossed his face. "You know... looking at you like this, standing there with a bag of chips and a stupid apron... I think I could actually cut you down right now. I don't think you'd even react in time."
The temperature in the alley seemed to drop twenty degrees.
"So, getting down to business," Tobias said, his voice suddenly losing all its warmth. "How did you find me? I know for a fact I covered my traces. I scrubbed my digital footprint. I moved three times. No one should have found this shop."
"Well, I just followed the—"
Silas didn't finish the sentence. He couldn't.
Before he could even register Tobias moving, a cold piece of metal was pressed firmly against the side of his neck. It wasn't a tactical combat knife. It wasn't a garrote wire.
It was a dull, stainless steel butter knife that Tobias had been using to spread jam on his puffs.
Silas stood frozen. His cigarette dropped from his lips, hitting the pavement with a tiny spark. He hadn't seen the draw. He hadn't seen the step. Tobias was just there, his eyes as cold and empty as the vacuum of space. One wrong move, and even a butter knife could find the carotid artery in the hands of the "001."
That speed... Silas thought, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his chin. Retire or not... he's telling me he could kill me whenever he wants. He hasn't lost a single step. He's just... hiding it.
The deadly silence was shattered by the sound of giggling. Two teenage girls walking past the alley entrance waved enthusiastically toward the shop.
"Hi, Tobias! Good morning!" they chirped.
The coldness vanished instantly. Tobias pulled the butter knife back, tucking it into his apron pocket, and waved back with a bright, friendly smile. "Morning! Hope you have a good day!"
Silas blinked, his heart still hammering against his ribs. "Who... who were they?"
"Former classmates from high school," Tobias said, going back to his cream puff as if he hadn't just held a man at knifepoint.
"Huh? You went to school?!" Silas shouted in pure shock. "The Ghost sat in a classroom and learned math? With children?!"
"Why not?" Tobias asked plainly. "I missed out on a lot of things. Algebra is actually quite relaxing compared to jungle warfare."
Suddenly, a familiar car screeched to a halt at the edge of the alley. It was the man from earlier the customer Tobias had helped with the engine. He leaned out of the window, looking frantic.
"Hi there, Mr. Sunset! I'm so glad you're still here! Look, my friend's car just broke down three blocks away, and he's got a huge meeting. Could you come with me and repair it? I told him you're a miracle worker!"
Silas shook his head, looking at the man with pity. "Hmp. There is no way Tobias is going to agree to that. You're talking to a man whose time used to cost ten million dollars an hour. He doesn't do 'house calls' for—"
"Okay," Tobias said, wiping cream from his lip and hopping into the man's passenger seat.
"W-WHAT?!" Silas screamed.
Thirty minutes later, Silas stood in a dusty parking lot, watching in stunned silence. Tobias was a blur of motion. He didn't use high-tech equipment. He used a wrench, a piece of wire, and sheer intuition. He moved between three different cars that were having issues, fixing a radiator here, a spark plug there, and a battery terminal elsewhere.
He worked in a jiffy, his hands moving with the same "ultimate" precision he had once used to dismantle bombs.
"Oh, nice work as always, Mr. Sunset!" the man and his friends cheered, handing Tobias a small stack of cash. "You really are the best in the city!"
Tobias pocketed the money and gave them a thumbs-up. "Glad I could help. Please make sure to give me a good rating on the shop's website! It really helps our search results."
Silas watched from the sidelines, his world-view shattered. The most feared assassin in history was currently begging for five-star reviews on a local business app.
"He's gone," Silas whispered to himself. "The Ghost is gone... but this 'Tobias' might be even scarier."