[MAX]
I had just set the case of Coke down on the counter of the small convenience store when the door jangled open. At first I paid the entry no mind; I was distracted by trying to determine which of my pockets I'd shoved my money into.
Then I looked up and saw the face of the man behind the register. In the few seconds that had passed, he had turned as pale as a ghost, and now he stared past me with wide eyes.
I sighed before I actually turned around. When I did I found myself faced with a man. There was nothing extraordinary about him; he was white, in his early thirties, and of average height and build. Nothing noteworthy — except the gun he had in his right hand.
That was pretty attention-grabbing.
I looked up at the ceiling and counted to five while I wondered what I had done to deserve this scenario before I finally turned my full attention the man. He had been moving toward me, but stopped once I made eye contact with him. Now he was close enough that I could've reached out and touched him.
I didn't.
Instead I flashed a sickly-sweet smile that didn't meet my eyes. When I spoke, my words were over-exaggerated and my tone contrasted my expression. "Hi there. My name's Max. You made a grave mistake in coming into this store. You can avoid making any further mistakes by turning around and leaving. Now."
The man gave me an unabashed once over before he scoffed. "You gonna make me, little girl?" He asked with the type of condescending look one gives a child before passing them over. He gestured at me with the gun. "Step off and let the adults talk."
My smile dropped. "Three things," I said, and I ticked off my fingers as I spoke. "One, everyone knows what kind of talk goes on when one man has a gun, and it definitely isn't adult. Two, I told you my name so you would use it. And three," I shrugged, "I warned you."
He realized too late that I was not someone who he should've dismissed.
By "too late" I mean probably five seconds before I was the one who had his gun. Ten seconds after that he was in a heap on the ground, bleeding from a gash in his cheek. He groaned, but he didn't move. I didn't expect he would any time soon. Not on his own, anyway.
I wiped the gun down with the bottom of my shirt before I placed it on the counter. After that, by some miracle I managed to find the money I'd been given. I placed the cash next to the gun. "Keep the change," I said before I yanked the case of Coke off the counter and headed for the door.
I made a mental note to ask Reznor to erase the security footage as I headed outside and down the street. I had just rounded a corner when I heard the sirens and figured that the cashier must have hit the panic button when the guy with the gun burst into the store.
But I figured I was out of sight now, so it wasn't my problem anymore.
"Hey, Max!" Dylan Carmichael jogged across the street when I looked his way. His blond hair almost glowed in the crisp winter air. He hefted four stuffed grocery bags, two in each hand. "You already got the Coke," he observed as he fell into step beside me. I had been sent off to get Coke from the smaller convenience store because then I would have fewer cameras to avoid, and Reznor would have less work to do.
It was also a wise call because in this part of town people tended to recognize all of the Carmichaels, which meant social interaction. I both did not have a desire to talk to strangers, nor did I want to have to worry about witnesses of my presence.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I said as I rolled my eyes.
Dylan gave me an amused smile before he retorted "You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm."
