Fighting had never been a skill of Arnold's, especially not against three people who looked like brawls were their profession. If he had been alone, maybe he would have surrendered and taken the beating as usual. But now he had his sister and best friend to protect. It felt like the world was reveling in his misery.
"Look, I don't want any trouble. If it's money, an apology, or someone you want as a punching bag, then take me. Leave the girls alone." He held out one hand in a placating gesture while stretching the other to keep Arya and Zendaya behind him.
The man tilted his head, studying him. "You know, for your bravado, I would have spared them because I can tell you've had your own fair share of hardship. But you see, the thing is, I was paid to do this."
"Paid by who?"
The man jerked his head toward Zendaya. "Go on. Ask crying beauty over there. I was told she runs her mouth alot."
Arnold glanced back at his sister, her face still buried in the crook of Arya's neck, her frame trembling. The sight caused a piercing ache in his chest. He looked back at the man, mind racing. Only one approach seemed even remotely safe.
"Please," he said, stepping forward and joining his hands. "I know I can't outpay whoever hired you, but please, do whatever you want to me. Let them go."
Laughter echoed through the deserted streets. The almost-darkened sky seemed to swirl around them, carrying the sound as the man doubled over, body shaking along with it.
"Pathetic. And yet pitiable."
Arnold's teeth rattled. No amount of ego was worth Zendaya's and Arya's safety.
"Please," he said again.
"If only things were that simple."
"It can be," Arnold cut in quickly. "You seem reasonable, at least that's the impression I'm getting. I know you might not be able to let us go completely, but surely you can understand what it's like to feel trapped. Just give us a few seconds, a little room to breathe before you strike."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Fine. But you all better behave once I catch you. No funny business."
Arnold held the man's gaze. "You have my word."
"Arnold," Arya hissed. Zendaya shot him a skeptical look, but he ignored them.
The man held up his hand as the other two cracked their knuckles.
"One—"
"Run!"
The girls took off immediately. Arnold followed, slowing his pace so he wouldn't outrun them. He shouted directions: left, right, no, keep straight ahead. They weaved through the streets, leaving the alley to their home behind. Going home now would only make things worse. They needed to outsmart these guys.
Arnold's chest heaved, his breath ragged as he scanned for a weapon—dumpster lids, stones, anything that could delay their pursuers. He tossed what he could, but it only distracted him and slowed the group as they turned into a narrow alley that led to a cul-de-sac.
"It's… it's a dead end," Zendaya's voice trembled as she clutched Arya's hand.
"Stay calm. Don't panic. Don't…" Arnold's words trailed off as the attackers emerged, panting heavily, their eyes murderous.
This was it. Arnold thought. This was how everything would end..
"Arnold, please. Do something. I don't want to die like this. I don't want to…. I-I shouldn't have said anything."
His sister's cry cut through him, breaking something inside. Arya's trembling voice as she tried to comfort her only added to the pressure.
"When you asked for a head start, it didn't include chucking things and trying to hit us!" the man hissed.
Arnold raised his hands. "My bad. You know how it is, I was trying to save my sisters."
The man scowled, but Arnold was already distracted, eyes darting around for anything usable. A glint caught his attention a few meters away. He lunged, grabbing the object. A small flash drive. Not much, but it would have to do.
The other two boys noticed immediately and laughed. "A flash drive? You think that's going to stop us?"
Arnold whispered to Arya, "Stay back."
He raised the device toward the leader. "You know the saying, 'keep your friends close and your enemies even closer'? It comes in handy when you're underestimated."
The leader frowned, confused. Even Arya and Zendaya exchanged skeptical looks.
"People rarely prepare for what they don't know. And I happen to know a lot." Arnold paused, faking confidence, letting the flash drive glint in the moonlight. "I've been recording patterns in this area. Timings, routes, and safe spots. This is one of my markers. Believe it or not."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone to show them briefly. "At exactly 8:30, cops pass through this street to check for trouble. You can fight us if you want—or run. Your choice."
One of the boys snickered.
"Yeah? Ethan Bilsky, student of Gilmore High. Probation. Eighteen years old. I wonder what your principal—or the authorities—would think about the company you keep."
The leader's brow twitched as Ethan's face went pale. "You're bluffing."
The air grew taut with tension. The leader's hand twitched toward his pocket knife, but hesitation crept in. He glanced at the others. Doubt rippled across their faces.
Arnold seized the moment. "Oh, and for the record, everything is already documented. The streets, CCTV positions… the police have leads if anything happens to us."
"Our boss will handle that," the leader sneered.
Arnold straightened, a smirk forming as his phone beeped. "Time's up. I hope your boss is capable because I have my own recordings too."
Before the leader could react, sirens wailed in the distance. "Hands where I can see them!" a cop shouted.
Arya's jaw dropped. "How?"
Arnold showed her his phone: the texts, the photo, the live location he'd shared with one of his trusted co-worker.
Zendaya threw herself at him, and he caught her just in time, tucking the flash drive safely into his pocket. His chest still pounded, but the relief of her safety outweighed everything. He should have felt victorious, but the world had a way of keeping surprises ready.
Their attackers were cuffed and led to a cruiser. None resisted—not when Arnold had caught them completely off guard.
He reached for the flash drive again, about to toss it away, when his thumb brushed against a faint carving he hadn't noticed before: A.M.P.
"Amp?"
The letters registered as soon as he said the words aloud. Arnold Maxwell Palmer. His own initials. The coincidence sent a shiver up his spine.
"Hey, kids, move it. It's dark; don't linger on these corners," a cop shouted.
Arnold shoved the flash drive back into his pocket and hurried after Arya and Zendaya, his pulse still struggling to settle from the day's event. The streetlights hummed faintly overhead, and for the first time in months, he appreciated the night's quiet.
Then something buzzed against his thigh.
He slowed, frowning. His phone was in his other pocket.
The vibration came again and Arnold stopped walking altogether. A strange unease crawled up his spine as he reached into his left pocket and pulled out the flash drive.
A thin blue line glowed along its edge.
At the same time, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, expecting a call, or a message.
The screen was black.
White text appeared in the center.
Unknown hardware connected.
Arnold's fingers went cold around the device. He hadn't plugged it in. It wasn't even near the charging port.
Another line appeared beneath the first.
Primary user match: Arnold M. Palmer
Before he could react, the blue glow along the drive faded. The text on his screen vanished, leaving nothing but his reflection staring back at him.
The street noise returned. A car passed in the distance. Someone laughed somewhere down the block. Zendaya called out, oblivious to what had just happened.
But Arnold remained frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, his heart pounding.
He had been right afterall. The flash drive was left there specifically for him.