Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Nick Bennet awoke in a dumpster.

It wasn’t even a good dumpster. As far as dumpsters go, this one was on the lower end. It reeked of unknown smells that would usually send most people running the other way, but Nick Bennet wasn’t most people.

To be fair, this wasn’t overly unusual for him. You name a place, and Nick has most likely spent the night there. One of his more exciting ventures was curling up on a large buoy in a harbor. Being homeless means you kind of have to be creative sometimes.

Nick looked around himself, scanning the alleyway he was camped out in. Though most would rather spend the night in jail than sleep among the trash, Nick was used to it.

Nick sighed and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands. He pulled his watch out from his jacket pocket and read the time, which was displayed as 7:47 AM. He ran the small trinket in his hands, feeling the cold metal against his fingertips. As one of his only possessions, this watch meant a great deal to him.

Nick helped himself to his feet and hopped down out of the dumpster. He grabbed a small bag leaning against the dumpster and exited the alley. The cold November air bit at Nick’s face, but he only breathed in deeply and sighed. He loved these crisp mornings.

The sun momentarily blinded Nick as it shone down on his face. Wincing, he pulled out a pair of sunglasses from his bag. Next to his watch, the sunglasses were his second favorite possession. He gazed around the block, watching people run from one place to another, not bothering to look at anything around them. All they had was tunnel vision on where they were going. A few shot sideways glances in his direction, then continued on their way, not giving him a second thought.

“They don’t even know what I am,” Nick thought coldly. “And they still don’t accept me.”

He turned and began to walk down the street, finally stopping to enter a small diner he had not been in before. Upon entering, the savory smell of freshly cooked pancakes and bacon greeted his nose. A sense of longing overtook him, but it was quickly set aside. There was no room for longing in his life.

The only occupant was an older man standing behind the counter cleaning glasses. As he looked up at Nick, he jumped, his face betraying the shock he felt of seeing Nick standing there.

“What happened to you, Boy?” he asked. “Sleep in a dumpster?”

Nick smiled, the irony of the situation not lost on him. “Yeah I did.”

The man frowned slightly, but a smile soon replaced it. “No one likes a smart aleck, Boy.”

“Good thing I’m not a smart aleck then,” Nick replied. “I just need to use your bathroom.”

“In the back,” the man said, chuckling softly and gesturing behind him. Nick nodded in thanks and quickly made his way through the deserted diner to the bathroom.  Nick entered and locked the door.

He removed an old toothbrush from his bag, along with a tube of toothpaste and walked to the sink. He hesitantly looked up at his reflection in the mirror. The sight that greeted him wasn’t pleasant.

Nick was young; probably in his late 20s. He had an aura about him that intimidated people even before they met him. Partly because of his stature, since Nick was six foot tall and pretty well built, but also because of his appearance. He had a scruffy beard which took up most of his face that he neglected to shave. His dark brown hair was long as well, draping down over his face. Large, dark bags were present under his eyes, betraying the struggles he has had to endure. He had the appearance of someone who had once been handsome, but years of neglect had buried it deep down.

Nick proceeded to brush his teeth and clean up after his night among the trash. He emerged five minutes later considerably cleaner than when he went in, having washed his body with a wet rag and put on a change of clothes. He walked up to the counter, aware of the man behind following him with his gaze.

Nick was seated for a few awkward moments before the man finally spoke.

“What will it be?”

“Just a coffee,” Nick replied. The man grabbed a large pitcher of coffee from behind him and poured a steaming cup. Nick took it with both hands and took a long, slow sip, savoring every drop. If he had one weakness, it was coffee.

“What’s your name?” The man behind the counter asked, interrupting Nick’s enjoyment.

“Nick,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the coffee. “And yours?”

“Marty. Nice to meet you.” They shook hands and Nick went back to sipping his coffee, still under the watchful gaze of Marty.

“Where you from?” asked Marty, once more snapping Nick out of his enjoyment. 

“Florida,” Nick replied.

“Wow. What brings you up here?”

Nick stayed silent, not willing to answer the question. If he was being honest with himself, the answer would be it was anywhere but where he was from. “I just love the weather here. Who wants to sit on a beach relaxing anyway?”

Marty let out a full laugh. “I like you Nick,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Do you have any family nearby?”

“No,” Nick replied smiling. “I’m actually running from the feds and thought hiding out in the country’s capital was a good idea.”

Marty chuckled. “More sarcasm. I like it.” He paused. “That was sarcasm, right?”

“It was,” Nick said with a reassuring smile. Marty laughed and poured himself a glass of coffee, then they continued to sit in silence for a few minutes.

“You best be careful Boy,” Marty said, shooting a stern look at Nick that he broke with a grin. “Not everyone will appreciate your humor like me.”

Nick smiled. “I know.”

Marty eventually went to speak again, but he was interrupted by the ringing of a bell, indicating the door had opened. A large man entered the diner wearing what appeared to be a very expensive suit. He also carried a briefcase, solidifying his role as a stereotypical businessman. Upon seeing Nick seated at the counter, the man paused, then proceeded to seat himself at the far end. He ordered some toast and an orange juice from Marty, who had left Nick to tend to his newest patron. As the cook clambered about in the kitchen fixing the man’s order, he began to make small talk with Marty.

“How are you this morning?”

“Not bad. At least the weather is finally nice.”

“Don’t hold your breath. There’s supposed to be a storm tonight.”

The businessman glanced over at Nick again, then turned back towards Marty, this time speaking in hushed tones. Though he tried to stay quiet, Nick could still make out every word.

“Is that guy causing you problems?” asked the businessman, motioning towards Nick.

“No, not at all,” replied Marty. “Why do you ask?”

“Well look at him. He’s obviously homeless. You know how people like him are, always causing trouble.” At this statement, Nick’s fists clenched and he gritted his teeth. Unfortunately, the businessman didn’t stop there.

“I tell you, this city really has to do something about it. You’d think, this being Washington DC and all, that they would do something.”

“I don’t know,” replied an apprehensive Marty. “I was talking with him earlier. He seemed decent enough.”

The businessman scoffed. “Decent? He lives on the streets! There’s nothing decent about him.”

Nick closed his eyes, trying with all his might to contain his anger. This man only solidified Nick’s view of humanity. Oblivious to the two men at the end of the counter, the glasses Marty had been cleaning began to rattle. A wave of fear washed over Nick as he opened his eyes to see the glasses vibrating about.

“No!” Nick thought to himself. “Control yourself.”

Nick breathed in and out slowly. Gradually, the glasses stopped. Nick looked down the counter, and was surprised to see the businessman and Marty still in intense debate, unaware of what had just transpired. Relief washed over Nick, but it was very short lived.

The door to the diner suddenly flew open and a man entered, wielding a gun before him. He looked younger, most likely in his early 20s. His eyes burned with a great intensity, as if daring anyone to question his authority. He also wore a standard pair of jeans and a T-shirt advertising some liquor brand. Nick disliked him immediately.

He began to yell in a deep voice. “No one move! Give me all your valuables! Now!”

Marty had pinned himself against the back wall in shock, but quickly regained his composure. He rushed to the cash register and extracted several stacks of bills, which he handed to the gunman. The businessman fumbled through his pockets, extracting his wallet and cell phone. He practically threw them at his assailant, silently pleading under his breath not to kill him. Nick, however, hadn’t moved. He was facing forward and continued to sip his coffee as if nothing had happened. This act was not missed by the gunman. He stepped up towards Nick, training the gun on his chest.

“Didn’t you hear me?! Give me everything you have!”

“No,” Nick responded flatly, looking down to stare at the man above his sunglasses. “I’m in the middle of my coffee.”

An eerie silence fell over the room. Both Marty and the businessman stared at Nick in shock, probably wondering if he was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Nick looked into the face of the gunman, reading his features. As surprised as the other two men were, he looked double that. 

The gunman recovered from the shock first. “Do you want to die?! Give me what you have, NOW!”

“I said no,” Nick said, and then he did something which renewed the feeling of shock felt on all in the room. He began to laugh.

A minute passed in silence, save for the laughter coming from Nick. “You’re crazy!” the gunman finally yelled.

“Oh really?” Nick replied, still laughing. He removed his glasses and glared at him. “I guess you better shoot me then. There really is no telling what a crazy man will do in a moment of stress. I’m pretty unpredictable.”

The gun wobbled ever so slightly, revealing the thoughts of the person wielding it. This was not part of the plan, and the gunman was clearly shaken by this unexpected turn of events. “I don’t want to have to kill you! Just give me your money!”

“I have a better idea,” Nick said, standing up and facing the man, their faces separated by little more than a foot. “You are going to give me your gun and leave now before I’m forced to take you down. Got it?”

The gunman was shocked, but quickly snapped out of it. He had the gun, which meant he had the power. “This is your last warning!”

“And this is yours,” Nick shot back.

Neither man moved, staring hard into each other’s eyes in a deadly staring contest. Though the man wielded a gun, Nick’s fierce gaze was enough to bring a hint of uncertainty to his face.

A cold grin spread on Nick’s face. “Time’s up.” He lashed out so quickly, the gunman didn’t stand a chance. Nick struck hard on the man’s arm and seized his wrist, twisting it into a very unnatural position. The gunman emitted a yelp of pain and dropped his weapon. Unfortunately for himself, he had neglected the basic rules of firearm safety, such as keeping the safety on. As the gun hit the ground, it fired, sending a round through the man’s leg.

He cried out in agony, falling to the floor, clutching his wound. Nick seized his temporary distraction and lashed out with his foot, connecting hard with the man’s jaw. He fell to the ground and lay still.

Nick looked behind him at Marty and the businessman. Marty had a look of pure shock on his face, as if he couldn’t believe what was right in front of him. He blinked several times, trying to clear up his vision to make sure he was seeing right.

The businessman didn’t handle it nearly as well as Marty. He had fallen from his seat and was lying on the floor, unconscious. As Nick watched, he slowly began to stir as he regained composure.

Nick bent down over his wound be killer and felt through his pockets, extracting the money he had just stolen from Marty. He walked to the counter and set it down. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. Still, Marty did nothing except stare at Nick, not even bothering to take his returned cash.

Nick left him and walked towards the door, smiling at the confused expression on the businessman’s face. As he got to the door, he turned around one last time. “I would call the cops if I were you. He won’t be too happy when he wakes up.” With that as his final word, Nick exited the diner.

The pair sat in stunned silence for a minute more before Marty snapped out of it. He broke from his self-induced paralysis and ran into the kitchen. The cook was hiding underneath a table and emerged when Marty entered. “What happened out there?” he asked, a scared look on his face.

Marty didn’t answer, but ran to the diner’s phone, which was on the back wall of the kitchen. How could he answer? He was still having a hard time believing what had just happened himself.

Marty picked up the phone and quickly dialed 911. He was frantic as he described his diner had been robbed, but he managed to relay the message enough. Within minutes, the city’s finest officers would be there.

Though he described the armed robbery pretty well, he had left out one crucial detail: Nick. What would they say if he told them a homeless man single handedly took down an armed robber? The businessman couldn’t even vouch for him, for he had been unconscious when the action had taken place.

He walked back out into the main room, trying to decide what story he would tell the cops. As he emerged from the kitchen, he noticed the businessman was no longer at the counter, but crouched down next to the unconscious gunman.

“What are you doing?!” Marty hissed, running up next to him.

The businessman didn’t reply. He was currently rooting through the gunman’s pockets. Suddenly, a look of rage descended upon his face.

“That homeless freak stole my wallet!”

 

Reviews

[Rachel Tierney]

I like this story, but it can be chunky in a few places. It is better to describe and let the reader make their own conclusions. For example, maybe don't say that the gun wobbling betrayed the wielder's thoughts but just say it wobbled. Also, maybe instead of calling him a stereotypical businessman, just describe what he looks like.

[Luke Daniels]

Thanks for the review! I'll be sure to look back over it