Smalltime (Part Four)

The next morning I woke up with a headache, as per usual. It was 9 o’clock, Friday morning. I’d woken up a bit later than I normally do. I was bummed. Ah well, I thought. I was also slightly richer.
After I took my pills, I headed down to the bank so I could cash my check. There’s not much you can do with a single 500-spoon note in the city, since there isn’t necessarily much expensive stuff to buy that people can’t scavenge for themselves, so I thought I’d exchange it instead of let it sit around. The bank teller I ended up with had three eyes and dripped with water, or at least I think it was water, sliding me a slimy stack of fifty 10-spoon notes over his desk. I gave him an awkward smile, pocketed the cash and left a bit quickly. 
I had skipped breakfast, so I stopped by a diner not too far from my office for some pancakes and eggs. It was a nice change from my normal morning fare, which is just a bagel and a bowl of cereal most of the time. The place looked pretty lively for a post-apocalyptic Friday morning, so I stuck around a little while after my breakfast and watched people come and go, drinking a few cups of coffee all the while. 
After maybe half an hour, I heard some commotion coming from the kitchen. It sounded a little violent, so as a U.S. council member, I felt obligated to see what it was about and stop anyone from potentially destroying a city block. I got up from my booth, still holding my coffee mug, and walked over to the kitchen door, when all of a sudden none other than Buck Bellringer comes crashing through the door and straight into me. My mug was sent flying right into a wall and shattered into a million pieces. 
Fuck, I thought. I gotta stop doing that. 
“That’s the last time I trys to help youse or any of your friends, ya fruitloop! Youse mugs’ll never box in this town again!” Buck yelled, directing his anger at a meaty-looking guy with a face made of metal through the kitchen doorway. I spotted there was another door, slightly ajar and marked “PRIVATE,” just past this metal-faced monstrosity. The sounds of shouts and punching bags getting pummeled emanated from that door. 
“Boxing club, eh, Buck?” I asked, with a slight smile. Buck turned and saw me, his peeved demeanor turning to one of recognition. 
“Aero fella! Good ta see a familiar mug here.” Just then he realized he knocked the coffee out of my hand. “Speakin’ of mugs…” 
Buck bought me another cup of coffee, left a 50-spoon note on the diner counter for the damage to the door and for the broken mug and joined me at my booth. 
“So what’s that all about, Bucko?” I asked after taking a sip from my mug. “Boxing clubs that aren‘t yours giving you trouble?” 
“Yeah, trouble like youse wouldn’t believe, fella,” he replied. “I lend these guys valuable moneys and they spits in my face. Buncha circus animals…” 
“Is that it, though? Surely you wouldn’t be so worried only about some small-time fighters not paying back.” 
“Well,” he started, “I had to stop a fights the other day...” 
“Oh come on, it's not like you haven't had to stop a fight before.” 
“Yeahs, but it starts havin’ a negative effects on youse after a while, ya know? It’s like I’m nots bein’ able to determine wheres the entertainment stops an’ the brutality begins.” 
“Well, at least you try to find ways to entertain yourself and others,” I said. “I have to do it for a job and I’m at a loss.” 
"Come covers a match some time, fella. We’s still underground but hey, if it’ll help youse out, I’m sures it’ll be alright.” He gave me a wink and a smile. 
“Thanks, Buck. And thanks for the coffee,” I said. 
“Any time, Aero fella.” He stood up, placed some more money on the diner counter, lit up his cigar and left. 
I left the diner after another cup of coffee, a surplus of caffeine and sugar coursing through my veins. Since I didn’t feel like I had much to do anyway, I decided to take a walk around town. I passed by the former offices of lawyers, media representatives, stockbrokers and others. All these people were gone, taken by the apocalypse, and the rest of us took over without realizing that fact. It lends some interesting perspective. 
At some point I realized I had to take a piss and sought an alleyway to do my business in. It was around noon at this time, so the sun shone straight down on me. The thing about living in the world as it is right now is that peoples’ abilities have resulted in an utter lack of privacy; omniscient, psychics, hell, even people who just fly around a lot could easily see me taking a leak. 
Ah well, I thought. Most people are decent enough to leave me be, right? 
Wrong. 
As soon as I did up my zipper, I heard footsteps, heading straight towards me, growing louder.  Worried, I looked in the direction of the noise, only to see nothing. The footsteps grew louder and louder, and their pace quickened, though the sight stayed the same. 
Invisible mugger, I thought. I proceeded to send a few blasts of air and dust at the direction of the noise, making my attacker somewhat visible. He was less than ten feet away when he dropped the invisibility, revealing himself, and lurched forward with his hands grasping for my neck. 
I tried to put up a carbon barrier between him and myself, but he broke through it. Enhanced strength, possibly durability as well. He pinned me by my neck against the alley wall with both hands, then just one, in case he needed to use the other. 
This guy was pretty ugly. A scar marred his face from his chin to his left ear, his eyes an unpleasant brown. His head was shaved. I’d never seen the man before, but he looked at me like he knew me, or at least as if he wanted something from me, something he knew I had. 
I tried stabbing at him with air blades, but to no avail. His muscle must be hyper-dense, I thought. He punched me in the gut with his free hand before dropping me down to the ground and kneeing me in the face, causing the back of my head to collide with the wall. 
“Where the hell is he?” he yelled. 
“Where is who?” I asked in return. He decked me twice, holding me up by my shirt. 
“WHERE IS THE RINGER?”
END OF PART FOUR
Smalltime written by Mister Z
CLICK HERE for PART ONE
CLICK HERE for PART TWO
CLICK HERE for PART THREE
CLICK HERE for PART FIVE
CLICK HERE for PART SIX