William walked cheerfully back home, his hands clutching two bags overflowing with clothes he had bought from the enchanting and beautiful Angelique. Excitement bubbled inside him at the thought of finally retiring his worn-out shirt and trying on his fresh, well-fitting outfits. Caught up in his daydreams, he didn't realize his pace quickened, drawing astonished looks from passing drivers. Though clearly walking, his speed resembled a light jog, leaving onlookers amazed and confused. Some even recorded the bizarre sight on video.
By the time he reached the next block, the footage had already gone viral, sparking a wave of online comments.
@UrbanSpectacle: "Saw a guy walking so fast it looked like a jog… carrying shopping bags. Absolute legend. #SpeedWalker #Viral"
@TechieTom: "Physics, who? Someone turn this into a meme. #FastAndFuriousIRL"
@GossipGuru: "The internet is obsessed with this guy power-walking with groceries. Who is he?! 🏃♂️💨 #WalkingGoals"
@DailyViral: 📹 "When your excitement can't be contained… 😳💨 #ViralMoment #ShoppingSpeed"
@MemeQueen: 🐆🛍️ "Me vs. him. #SpeedyShopping"
Viral Trends Community: "Breaking: A man's energetic walk is taking the internet by storm! The world can't get enough."
Top Comment: "He's the unexpected hero we all needed."
TikTok
🎶 "When you can't wait to try on your new clothes 😎 #SpeedWalkChallenge"
💨 "Everyone else: honking 🚗📣 Me: wishing I had that energy 😂 #WalkingLegend"
Oblivious to the chaos he was causing, William continued his journey, eyes half-lidded, detached from the city's noise and commotion.
As he rounded a corner, he entered the park bridging the lively shopping district and the peaceful neighborhood beyond. The scenery shifted dramatically as the suffocating grey concrete gave way to vibrant greenery and the air filled with the soft mist of a central fountain.
Then—
A muffled cry.
William froze, his shoes skidding on the pavement as he whipped his head around, pulse racing. "What the…?" The sound was faint, nearly drowned out by the murmur of the fountain, but there was no mistaking it. A second cry followed, sharper, tinged with panic, and punctuated by a grunt of pain.
Instinct kicked in. The bags of clothes tumbled from his grip as he dashed across the street, his eyes zeroing in on the narrow alley between two buildings.
There, two men had a young raven-haired woman cornered. One had her pinned against the wall, his hand clamped on her arm as she twisted and struggled to break free. The other stood back, laughing at her futile attempts. That laughter died instantly when he noticed William charging toward them. His face hardened, and he stepped forward, raising an arm to block William's advance.
William didn't hesitate.
The man barely had time to react before everything spun out of control, literally. William's hand shot out like lightning, grabbing his collar. With a sickening rush of air, the thug was yanked off his feet, spun around like a rag doll, and slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force. He crumpled on the pavement, groaning like discarded trash.
The second man's grin vanished, his confidence evaporating as William turned his gaze on him. There was no anger, no playfulness, just a cold, unyielding desire to punch this man's face into a pink mist.
"Wh... Who the hell are you? What did you do to him?" the man demanded, releasing the girl, who collapsed to the ground, gasping for air after nearly being strangled by his hands.
William's eyes shifted to the girl, disregarding the man's question. Instead, he asked calmly, "Are you okay, ma'am? Do you need me to call an ambulance?"
The girl looked up at him with watery eyes, shaking her head as she rubbed the red marks on her face where the man's hands had gagged her. The faint imprint of his grip remained visible on her otherwise delicate features.
Suddenly, the man reached into his jacket pocket and bellowed, "HEY! ANSWER ME, NOW!"
William's gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing into slits as they locked onto the man who's loud, grating voice filled the room.
Without uttering a word, William began moving forward, his steps slow and deliberate, while the man started to sense that something was terribly off.
As William approached the halfway point to the man's position, the man abruptly pulled a knife from his jacket pocket. Waving it in front of him in an attempt to intimidate, he tried to make a show of force. Yet, despite the dramatic gesture, William continued moving forward without the slightest hesitation.
The bad feeling the man was feeling began to increase at a rate that mirrored William's approach, the man's knife-wielding hand beginning to shake as a strange sense of fear began to take root.
The alley seemed to close in with each step William took. His presence wasn't flashy or exaggerated, yet it weighed heavily on the man, pressing down like an invisible force. The air grew thicker, as though the world itself acknowledged the clear divide between predator and prey.
"Stay back!" the man shouted, his knife flailing wildly. His voice quivered, betraying his shaky attempt at authority. He jabbed the blade forward in erratic bursts, as if trying to construct a wall of steel between himself and William.
William didn't flinch. His gaze, steady and unyielding, followed the thug's every twitch, not with fear or irritation, but with the calm certainty of someone who already knew how the story would end. His footsteps echoed softly off the brick walls: tap… tap… tap.
Sweat poured down the man's face. His free hand twitched nervously, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. "I said stop!" he yelled again, his voice cracking this time, his bravado slipping away.
William's silence was more menacing than any threat he could have voiced.
The girl, still huddled on the ground and trembling, cupped her hands over her mouth. She felt it too, that thick, inescapable tension, like watching storm clouds churn and knowing the strike was inevitable.
The thug's breathing grew ragged, his knife wobbling in his unsteady grip. Fear clawed at him, whispering that any hesitation would seal his fate.
"TO HELL WITH YOU!" he roared, spittle flying as he lunged forward. The knife slashed through the air in a wild, desperate arc aimed straight at William's chest.
The knife came down fast, well, fast in the eyes of the man swinging it. To William, however, it was an entirely different story.
Time slowed to a crawl. The knife's downward arc looked like a toddler trying their best at a clumsy dance move. Every motion of the thug's arm screamed desperation, his muscles quivering like a poorly tuned engine about to stall. William felt less like he was in a fight and more like he was watching a bad slapstick routine unfold in slow motion.
Too wide.
Too sloppy.
Is he auditioning for the role of "Worst Knife Fighter of the Year"?
William didn't even need to dodge, more like he politely leaned out of the way. A slight tilt of his head here, a casual shrug of his shoulders there. Each wild slash breezed past him, as harmless as a kitten swatting at air.
He found himself strangely detached, like a mechanic diagnosing a hopelessly broken appliance. This guy thought he was intimidating, dangerous, the alpha predator. But to William, he was a walking disaster, like someone trying to fight while wearing roller skates on ice.
Another thrust came, shaking and erratic. William sighed, casually stepping aside, his movements so subtle they barely registered. The thug shouted curses, his words blending into a chaotic soup of incoherence, while his blade continued its frantic, ineffective ballet. It was almost endearing, if only it weren't so pathetic.
Finally, the grand finale: a desperate slash aimed straight at William's throat. Before the thought could even fully form in the thug's mind, William's hand snapped upward. Two fingers and a thumb clamped onto his wrist with all the effort of pinching a stray thread.
Pitiful, William thought as the man froze, his eyes bulging in disbelief. Honestly, I feel bad for him. Almost.
The knife wavered, trembling inches from William's neck. The thug yanked, twisted, and strained, but his wrist might as well have been trapped in a bear trap. William's grip held firm, unyielding, like a mildly annoyed parent holding back a tantruming toddler.
Leaning in with a calm, almost bored tone, William asked, "Seriously? That's it? I've seen cats with hairballs put up a better fight. And just like your father, I too am overwhelmed by profound, indescribable disappointment."
William's grip tightened, his fingers like iron clamps. The thug's eyes bulged as William twisted the man's wrist outward, slowly and deliberately at first, then suddenly, with a sharp, wrenching motion.
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the alley, sharp and wet. The man screamed, his knife clattering to the ground as his legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his shattered arm, his face drained of color and twisted in shock.
William stared down at him with a calm, unreadable expression. So fragile, he mused, almost disappointed. Just one twist, and you're broken.
But as William's focus lingered on the kneeling man, the air shifted subtly behind him. Gravel crunched underfoot. A low hiss of breath escaped through clenched teeth. The first thug, the one William had slammed into the pavement earlier, was struggling to his feet, fury etched into his battered face.
Staggering and half-dazed, he lunged forward, every ounce of anger and desperation fueling the wild swing of the broken bottle he'd snatched from the ground. His target: the back of William's skull.
Oblivious, William stood over the kneeling man, his hand still resting on the shattered wrist, exuding an air of total control, until a flicker of danger brushed his senses like a ghostly whisper.
Williams' [Battle Instinct] activated instantly, sharpening his senses to the danger rapidly approaching from behind. In his mind's eye, he envisioned a vivid red silhouette charging at him, brandishing a jagged, broken beer bottle with clear malicious intent.
Without hesitation, Williams redirected his focus away from the injured man in front of him. He pivoted sharply on his heel, locking eyes with the advancing attacker. His fists rose instinctively, ready for the clash, as his eyes glimmered with the exhilaration of a new challenge.
The raven-haired girl stood frozen, watching in shock as the mysterious man who had saved her nimbly evaded the wild jabs of the broken bottle. Snapping out of her daze, she grabbed her phone and began live-streaming the intense fight under the hashtag #Vigilante. The stream quickly exploded in popularity, drawing a tidal wave of comments fueled by the sheer adrenaline of the moment.
The first thug writhed on the ground, clutching his broken wrist, while the second staggered up, gripping the jagged bottle with shaky determination. For a brief moment, it looked like they might make a desperate attempt together, a chaotic partnership driven by fear and instinct.
The girl's phone quivered in her hands as she fixated on the scene. Comments flooded in:
"They're gonna try to jump him!"
"Don't get hurt, don't get hurt…"
"This is gonna be brutal."
The two thugs locked eyes for a panicked second, their fear palpable. One moved to distract, waving the bottle wildly and shouting, while the other began inching around to flank William from the side.
The girl's heart pounded. She noticed every twitch, every faltering step. Their movements were disjointed, frantic, more a product of terror than any real plan. The first thug swung the bottle hard, the sound of glass scraping brick echoing as William sidestepped effortlessly, barely moving more than an inch.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly. From her perspective, she could see the sweat on their brows, the unsteady grip of their hands, the almost laughable lack of coordination. Despite their clumsy ambush, William's gaze remained calm and unwavering, tracking both of them with chilling precision.
The first thug let out a startled yelp as William's foot shifted ever so slightly, sending him off balance. He stumbled clumsily into the second thug, who was recklessly lunging forward with his bottle. The two collided with a sickening crunch, tangling together as they fell to the ground in a frenzied, chaotic heap.
Her viewers were losing their minds:
"He's playing with them like it's nothing!"
"This is insane! I can't believe this is real!"
"It's like watching a live-action blockbuster!"
The girl's focus snapped back as the second thug, now untangled, swung the bottle once more, this time aiming low in an attempt to take out William's legs.
William let out a soft sigh as he raised an arm, catching the bottle mid-swing. The thug yelped in surprise, yanked back by the abrupt force. With a swift motion, William twisted the man's wrist, sending him crashing to his knees as the bottle clattered harmlessly to the ground.
The first thug, still recovering from the earlier collision, scrambled toward William again. The girl's hands trembled as she held her phone, recording every desperate move. William pivoted smoothly, his other hand striking like lightning, slamming the first thug's face against the alley wall.
CRACK.
She flinched, her voice dropping to a shaky whisper. "Oh my God… he's… he's breaking them…"
The thugs tried to regroup, crawling, lunging, swinging wildly, but their attempts were useless. William moved with a deadly grace, every dodge, counter, and step dismantling their efforts with terrifying ease. Meanwhile, the girl's live-stream comments exploded with capital letters and flying emojis: "WHO EVEN IS THIS GUY???"
At last, the two thugs lay on the ground, bruised, battered, and defeated, unable to continue. William stood over them, his gaze cold and steady, like a predator surveying its prey after the hunt.
The girl exhaled shakily, realizing she had caught the entire scene on camera. Her hands trembled as she panned over the fallen men, then back to William, who now stared at her with the same unreadable intensity.
"He… he could've killed them anytime," she thought, her heart pounding. "But he didn't. He just… stopped them."
Her phone buzzed with a flood of notifications.