Chapter 91: Scared to Death
The two tech nerds were immediately terrified.
"Should we call 911? Or should we run before he spots us?" Raj covered his mouth in fear. "Oh god! What if he drags us all into the restaurant as hostages?
I'm vegetarian and I can't be in the same room as someone who might have touched a hamburger!"
"Did you guys forget something?" Ron was baffled by Raj's rambling. "Don't you remember what I do for a living?"
"What?" The two nerds asked with wide, frightened eyes.
"What's my job?"
"Right! Right! Right!" Howard pumped his fist excitedly. "You're an IRS agent! If you call the cops, they'll respond faster. What are you waiting for? Call for backup!"
"Keep it down!" Ron tapped both of them on the head. "It's just a robbery—small potatoes. I can handle this in under a minute. But for your safety, and so you don't get in my way, could you please wait over there?"
"No problem." Without looking back, both guys sprinted to hide behind a dumpster across the street. Their movements were so practiced that Ron wondered how many emergency drills they'd been through to achieve such efficiency.
...
Inside the restaurant, Max—completely oblivious to any danger—sauntered up to the robber, assuming he was just another customer.
"Hey there, what can I get you?" Max said, then couldn't help but mock herself. "Wow, I sounded so enthusiastic I almost made myself sick."
"Wait till you see my tip, then you'll see the real me."
The man in the trench coat showed no reaction to her sarcasm. "I've got a question for you. Do you want to live?"
"For today?" Max actually considered it. "I guess so."
Honestly, Max didn't think much of it. Working at a place like this, she'd seen plenty of middle-aged weirdos wearing coats in 90-degree weather.
The man's left hand, hidden inside his coat, was clearly gripping something and pointing it at Max. Based on the shape, it looked like a gun.
"See this? Tell everyone in the restaurant to put their valuables in this bag. If you cooperate, everyone stays safe."
The man pulled a black garbage bag from his other pocket and handed it to Max.
"Okay, sure," Max said, clearly experienced with this type of situation. "But I should warn you, most customers here pay with food stamps or loose change they found in their couch cushions."
The robber stayed silent, his back to the wall, nervously sweeping his weapon across the room at any sudden movement. Then he glared at Max and gestured for her to hurry up.
Max went to Earl first. While pulling cash from his wallet, Earl offered some advice: "Max, I've been on both sides of situations like this. Just go along with what he wants—it's the safest play."
Earl then placed his money in the plastic bag. Watching through the window, Ron could see clearly that after showing the robber his empty wallet, Earl never pulled a single dollar from his pocket.
An experienced eye could tell immediately that this guy was a complete amateur, with no clue about proper search procedures.
But when Max reached Caroline, things went sideways. Caroline screamed in panic, only to be silenced by the robber's threatening stare.
"I can't believe I finally saved up twenty bucks and now someone's robbing me," Caroline whimpered as she fumbled through her purse. "Max, I can't die. And if I do die, I can't die wearing this hideous uniform. It looks amazing on you, but..."
Caroline suddenly felt a warm sensation and her face went pale.
Max asked, "Hey, are you having a panic attack?"
"I wet myself..." Caroline said, mortified beyond belief. "I didn't, you know, number two—just number one, and I can't make it stop."
"Whoa! Stop talking about it and just hold it in!"
The robber, noticing the commotion, approached and aimed his gun at Caroline. "Get out from behind the counter!"
Caroline was practically crying from embarrassment. "I'm sorry, sir, I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm currently... in the middle of an accident." Caroline was dying of shame.
"Still going?" Max asked, amazed.
Caroline nodded miserably.
"Ladies, step aside. Let me handle this punk..." Oleg, in a rare moment of heroism, emerged from the kitchen wielding a baseball bat, ready to take on the robber. Unfortunately, he slipped on Caroline's puddle and knocked himself unconscious.
"Get over here now!" The robber felt completely disrespected. "Or I'll..."
At that moment, Ron finished his quick perimeter check, confirming there were no accomplices outside. He pushed through the door. Seeing Caroline's condition, he realized he was a step too late to prevent the situation entirely.
"Freeze!" The robber, seeing another person enter, felt his anxiety spike rather than any relief. If it weren't for the unmistakable smell of urine in the air, he might have thought the girl who'd wet herself was faking it.
But Ron, completely ignoring the command, took two confident steps forward without showing any fear. "Easy there, partner. What's going on here? Playing cops and robbers?"
"Don't move or I'll shoot!" The robber frantically brandished his gun at Ron.
"Ha!" Ron laughed like he'd heard the world's best joke. "Look at how you're holding that piece. Do you even know how to use it? You think just because it makes noise, that makes you dangerous?"
"Stay back!" Ron took another step forward, and the robber, overwhelmed by his commanding presence, involuntarily stepped backward, looking like Ron was the threat and he was the victim.
"What a joke!" Ron mocked the robber's awkward grip. "I've got iron on my hip too. Want to make a wager? I bet I can draw and drop you before you even think about pulling that trigger."
Hearing Ron claim he was armed, the robber immediately squeezed the trigger: "Go to hell..."
"BANG!"
"Ahhhh!" "Ahhhh!" "Ahhhh!" Caroline and Max screamed and squeezed their eyes shut, unable to watch Ron get shot.
But when the gunshot faded and they opened their eyes, Ron was still standing there completely unharmed, while the robber was on his knees clutching a bleeding hand.
The extra scream had clearly come from him.
In one fluid motion, Ron had lifted his jacket, drawn his service weapon, aimed, and fired before the robber had finished his threat.
He now casually blew the smoke from his revolver's barrel, spun the gun around his finger a few times like an Old West gunslinger, and smoothly holstered it. The whole sequence looked like something straight out of a classic Western movie.
(End of Chapter)
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