[NIGHT – THE CURATOR'S VAULT]
Noah arrived at 7:55 PM sharp. He was wearing his "work clothes" (an old tracksuit Nana bought him).
"Good evening, Boss!" Noah chirped, entering the dusty shop.
Blind Ivan sat behind the counter. He flinched.
"Don't call me Boss," Ivan hissed. "Call me... Mr. Smith."
"Okay, Mr. Smith. What's on the agenda?"
Ivan pointed a trembling finger toward the back room.
"Shipment just arrived. Twelve crates. Load them into the van. Don't shake them."
"Got it. Fragile antiques."
Noah went to the back.
[THE BACK ROOM]
The "delivery drivers" were three massive men covered in tattoos. They were struggling to push a heavy metal box across the floor.
"Heave!" one grunted. "Come on, put your back into it!"
Noah walked in.
"Excuse me," Noah said politely. "I'm the new guy."
The men stopped. They looked at Noah's tracksuit. They laughed.
"New guy?" the leader sneered. "Did Ivan hire a mascot? Get lost, kid. This is men's work."
Noah looked at the box. It was labeled "TYPE-99".
(Noah assumed it was a vintage typewriter collection).
"Mr. Smith said I need to load these," Noah said. "So if you guys could step aside..."
"Step aside?" The leader laughed harder. "Kid, this weighs three hundred kilos. It takes three of us just to slide it."
Noah sighed.
(They must be tired. Or lazy. Nana says never judge lazy people, just do the work yourself so you can go home early.)
"Okay," Noah said. "I'll do it."
He walked up to the crate.
He didn't crouch. He didn't brace himself. He just grabbed the corner.
Lift.
The crate came off the ground.
The three men stopped laughing. Their cigarettes fell out of their mouths.
Noah adjusted his grip.
"It is a bit heavy," Noah admitted. "Must be cast iron typewriters."
He walked past the stunned men, carrying the 300kg crate like it was a laundry basket.
He loaded it into the van.
He came back.
"Next?" Noah asked.
The leader of the delivery crew fell to his knees.
"Sir," the leader whispered. "Are you a cyborg?"
"No," Noah said. "I'm Noah."
[ONE HOUR LATER]
Blind Ivan watched the security camera feed. His good eye was bulging.
Usually, loading the shipment took four hours.
Noah had finished in forty-five minutes.
And he wasn't even sweating. He was reorganizing the van.
"Mr. Smith!" Noah called out from the back. "I stacked them by size so they don't rattle! It's more efficient!"
Ivan stared at the screen.
He... he optimized the load distribution?
He stacked explosive munitions like Tetris blocks?
"The boy is a genius," Ivan whispered. "A logistical prodigy."
[THE DELIVERY]
"Okay, kid," Ivan said, handing Noah the keys to the van. "You drive."
Noah blinked. "I don't have a license."
Ivan froze. "What?"
"I'm sixteen. I have a learner's permit, but I need a supervising adult."
Ivan rubbed his temples. He was an international arms dealer. He couldn't be a supervising adult for a learner's permit.
"Fine," Ivan groaned. "Big Tony will drive. You ride shotgun. Guard the cargo."
Big Tony (the leader of the delivery crew) ran to the driver's seat. He opened the passenger door for Noah.
"Please, Sir," Big Tony said respectfully. "After you."
Noah got in. "Thanks, Tony. You're very polite for a mover."
[ON THE ROAD]
The van rumbled through the dark streets of District 9.
"So," Noah said, trying to make small talk. "What kind of antiques are these? Vases? Statues?"
Big Tony gripped the steering wheel tight. He was terrified of the boy sitting next to him.
"Uh... yes. Statues. Very... loud statues."
"Cool. My grandma likes statues."
Suddenly, headlights flashed in the rearview mirror.
Two black sedans swerved behind them. Sirens wailed—but not police sirens. These were raid sirens.
"We've got a tail!" Big Tony shouted. "It's the Southern Syndicate! They're trying to hijack the shipment!"
Noah looked in the mirror.
"Hijackers?" Noah asked. "Like... pirates?"
"Yes! Highway pirates!"
The sedans pulled up alongside the van. Men leaned out the windows holding crowbars and bats.
"Pull over!" they screamed.
Noah frowned.
(This is bad. If they steal the cargo, Mr. Smith will fire me. And I won't get paid.)
"Tony," Noah said calmly. "Keep driving."
"They're gonna ram us!"
Noah rolled down the passenger window.
"Hey!" Noah shouted at the other car. "We're working here! It's dangerous to drive like that!"
One of the hijackers swung a crowbar at Noah's window.
Noah caught it.
Mid-swing.
The car was moving at 60 km/h. The hijacker was holding the other end.
Noah just... held on.
The hijacker was ripped out of the sedan window by his own momentum. He dangled in the air, held up only by Noah's grip on the crowbar.
"Whoa!" Noah yelled. "Let go!"
The hijacker looked at Noah's bored face. Then at the asphalt rushing below.
"I CAN'T!" the hijacker screamed.
"Okay, I'll put you down," Noah said.
Noah gently lowered the crowbar until the hijacker could tuck and roll onto the grassy shoulder of the road.
Noah tossed the crowbar into the backseat.
"That was unsafe," Noah muttered.
The driver of the sedan saw his partner get plucked out of the car by a high schooler.
The driver slammed on the brakes. The sedan spun out and crashed into a ditch.
The second sedan saw this, made a U-turn, and fled.
Big Tony stared at Noah.
"You... you neutralized the pursuit... with one hand?"
"He tried to hit the van," Noah explained. "Mr. Smith said no scratches."
[CONTROL ROOM]
"Target Noah just repelled a vehicular assault," the analyst reported.
"Did he use a weapon?"
"No. He used... physics? And a polite warning."
The Commander sighed.
"He's unstoppable. He's now securing the supply lines for the underworld."
"Sir, should we intervene?"
"No," the President said. "If he delivers that package, he earns minimum wage. Let the boy work."
[BACK AT THE SHOP]
They returned safely. The cargo was delivered.
Blind Ivan handed Noah an envelope.
"Here," Ivan said. "Your pay."
Noah opened it. It was cash. A lot of cash.
"Wait," Noah said. "This is too much. We agreed on minimum wage. This is like... triple."
"Hazard pay," Ivan said quickly. "For the... traffic."
Noah thought about it.
"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Smith! See you tomorrow!"
Noah walked out, happy.
"I can pay Nana back!" he cheered.
Inside the shop, Ivan and Big Tony hugged each other, sobbing with relief that they survived the night with the Monster.