He flicked the pen in his hands, as carelessly as if it were just a cheap device purchased at the dollar store.
Which it might’ve been. Despite the whispers Joel had heard, the pen had yet to exhibit any special abilities, other than the ability to dispense ink.
The neon light of the passing signs glided over the man’s grimace. The pen hadn’t been worth stealing. A waste of a perfectly good night—and an unnecessary risk. His least favorite kind of risk.
Joel tucked the device into his shirt pocket.
At this hour, the shops thickened with careless revelers. Joel knew some concert was taking place a neighborhood over, and the crowds would be thicker tonight. But the patrons hadn’t yet spilled out of the bars and clubs onto the streets. Whenever the man passed an open doorway, he heard glasses clinking, laughter roaring, and music thumping. But otherwise, the backdrop of city traffic droned against the dullness of the night.
Something shuffled up ahead.
Joel slowed, lightening his footsteps as he approached the nearest alley.
A silhouette framed against the light of a bulb above a maintenance door. Their shoulders were hunched. A bulk that must’ve been a pack bulged against its back. They didn’t stand very tall…a short adult, or maybe an adolescent?
At least the teens were easy hits. Most didn’t want trouble, and cooperated while they blubbered about how much they didn’t want to get hurt.
Moonlight trickled weakly into the alley, mingling with the sallow glow of the bulb. As Joel inched closer, he could see the kid had shaggy hair, a sweatshirt, loose pants, and scuffed sneakers.
The footware was always the tell…a bit dingy, but otherwise intact. The logo stamped with a brand name that retailed for about sixty dollars.
Could’ve been a good thrift…
But the logo on the boy’s backpack glinted with yet another popular upper-middle-class label. He must’ve come from the concert; some spoiled kid who’d wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time.
Unluckily for him.
Joel advanced, shifting into an offensive position. He felt the heft of the pocket knife tucked into his pants pocket as he moved; but he didn’t reach for it just yet. He liked a quick hit and no mess—the most effective way to do business.
The boy lowered his phone, heaving a disgusted sigh.
Then he tucked it away and turned around, spotting Joel.
The man jolted forward, snapping his hand around the boy’s wrist. He twisted it to pin his victim’s arm behind his back.
The boy gasped in pain. His entire body seized. Now was the moment he’d decide whether to fight, or to make it out intact.
Joel pushed the boy forward, forcing him to stumble onto the pavement. He swept down as his victim rolled onto his back, closing his hands around the boy’s throat.
The teen scrabbled at his attacker’s hold, his fingers shivering and slick with sweat. Was he afraid he was going to die? Or did he really think he could do something about this?
The boy grasped at Joel’s shirt, his hands closing around the pen.
Go ahead and take it, Joel chuckled to himself as the teen ripped it free. Then you can take the blame for stealing it.
The boy slashed the pen into the air.
A bright golden slice rented the darkness.
The hot dribble of blood burned against Joel’s chest.
The man fell back, grabbing at his shirt—but the wound only cut surface-deep.
He gaped at the boy, who took the opportunity to scramble back to his feet.
So the pen wasn’t useless after all. Only how had the whelp managed to activate it?
Joel climbed back to his own feet in a quick, graceful leap, forcing the boy to stagger back.
“I think it would be a good idea for you to give that back now,” Joel growled.
The boy blinked.
Joel slipped his hand around his pocket knife.
The alley bathed in two more soupy flashes of gold.
Pain lanced fresh in Joel’s arm and leg. He gasped, stumbling away from his victim once again. His blood-slicked fingers sought out the wounds—once again, not quite deep enough to warrant any immediate concern; though painful nonetheless, and leaking a non-insignificant amount of blood.
Joel was now more than convinced the pen hadn’t turned out to be useless. But a new dilemma reared its ugly head—would it be worth getting sliced up like a ham trying to steal it back from the kid?
Greed murmured yes…
The boy hauled himself upright, glanced down at the pen—and then launched himself at his attacker in a series of wild, sunlight-bright slashes.
—but common sense screamed no.
Joel made the choice the kid hadn’t several minutes ago. He turned and fled, his footfalls carrying him out of the alley and into the neon wash of the streets in a matter of moments.
* * *
Jonah watched as the mugger fled. His heart thrashed, and tears slid down his face.
He glanced down at the pen, which had calmed back down into its regular state once he’d stopped slashing it.
What had just happened? Had that guy been merely a mugger? Or something…worse? Why had he been carrying around this strange weapon—and what did Jonah do with it now?
Turning it in to the police seemed like a smart idea. Jonah didn’t want to be involved in any more of the affairs surrounding it; especially not if violent criminals would be interested in owning it.
Though as the boy pocketed the pen and turned to sprint towards the nearest police station, he had the feeling his troubles surrounding the object were only just beginning.
Leave a comment