Lawson instantly reached for the gun in his pocket, but the attacker was a pro. The guy pinned both his arms and slammed him hard against the brick wall before he could even draw.
The hold locked him up tight—no way to pull the Glock or counter.
The attacker patted him down fast and smooth. The professional frisk told Lawson this dude was probably law enforcement.
In seconds he found the driver's license, some cash, and the Glock 18 that tumbled out of his pocket.
"Illegal firearm! Name!"
"Hey! Don't pin that shit on me, man! I'm not carrying illegally, and you're holding my ID right now!"
Good thing he actually had a driver's license now, or they'd have stacked more charges.
"Save it! California doesn't allow open carry! You got a CCW? And for the record—I'm not a cop!"
Thanks to California's proud history of flash-mob looting—something they reenact every decade or so—carrying in most public spots was basically illegal unless you had a Concealed Carry Weapon permit. And regular people almost never got those.
Impersonating a cop was a felony though, so the guy didn't claim to be one.
"What? You're not a cop? Then who the fuck gave you the right to frisk and interrogate me?"
Lawson was pissed. He thought he was just getting hassled by some patrolman. Finding out the guy wasn't even real law enforcement changed everything.
"Stay still! I asked you a question!"
The attacker tried to keep pressing, but Lawson was done. Judging the guy was about his height, he snapped his head back in a vicious headbutt aimed straight at the nose.
The attacker saw it coming and dodged.
"I'm warning you! Resist again and you're gonna get hurt—AARRGH!"
Before the threat finished, the guy let out a high-pitched scream.
The headbutt had been a feint. At the same time Lawson fired off a brutal backward sweep kick right between the legs.
Bullseye.
The attacker felt pain no man should ever feel and instantly lost his grip.
"Fuck you! Not even a real cop and you're out here patting people down? Who the hell do you think you are?"
Lawson scooped the Glock off the ground, ready to end this permanently, when he finally got a good look at the guy's face.
Bald head. Massive, hulking build. Intimidating stare.
Was that Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson?
Why the hell was The Rock jumping him?
While Lawson was still processing that, Blake hobbled over on one foot, stepping right into the middle of the standoff.
"Blake, get back! This guy just jumped me!"
Then Blake dropped a line that almost short-circuited his brain.
"Dad? What are you doing here?"
What the fuck?!
Lawson stared at Blake, then at The Rock, completely stunned.
How the hell did Dwayne Johnson produce a daughter who looked like Alexandra Daddario? They didn't even seem like they belonged to the same species.
"Blake, that's really your dad?"
"Of course he's my dad! You think I wouldn't recognize my own father?"
Well… in America plenty of people would happily claim Bill Gates as their dad.
By now "The Rock" had mostly recovered from the ball-shattering pain. He glared at Lawson with pure murder in his eyes.
"Blake, why are you dating a thug like this? He might clean up nice in a suit, but he's carrying an illegal firearm!"
Lawson took offense. Yeah he was carrying, but the gun the System gave him was completely clean. And in America only idiots walked around unarmed.
But Blake didn't even register the "illegal firearm" part. She only heard "dating." Her face went beet red.
"Dad! Lawson is not my boyfriend! He's… he's just Mom's neighbor! He was only helping me because I sprained my ankle!"
Mr. Gaines looked back and forth between them suspiciously. As a veteran dad, his instincts were screaming that his daughter was way too flustered.
"Is that right?"
"Ahem! Mr. Gaines, I actually just met Blake yesterday!"
"Met yesterday and you're already invited to family lunch?"
Lawson looked surprised. Blake caught it too.
"Dad, were you spying on me and Mom?"
America took privacy seriously. What Mr. Gaines was doing was straight-up illegal. Knowing he was caught, he scrambled for an excuse.
"Blake, I was just worried about your mother living in this neighborhood. You know how dangerous it is…"
"Then go apologize to her like a man! Stop creeping around like some pervert!"
Blake stood with her hands on her hips, scolding her massive father. The power dynamic was completely flipped.
Mr. Gaines laughed awkwardly.
Lawson could see exactly what was going on. The guy's pride was stopping him from walking in and apologizing to his wife. Same story everywhere in the world. A lot of marriages died over stupid shit because someone refused to say sorry.
"Dad, I don't even care anymore! Lawson, let's go!"
Looking deeply disappointed in her father, Blake grabbed Lawson's hand to pull him away.
"Hold on, Blake. Let me talk to Mr. Gaines for a minute. Sometimes it's easier for men to work this stuff out."
Blake hesitated, then nodded. She obviously still wanted her parents back together.
"Fine. I'll wait on the bench."
Once Blake hobbled away, Lawson pulled out the pack of System cigarettes and offered one to the depressed-looking Mr. Gaines.
"It's just regular tobacco. Nothing weird in it. What's your name?"
In America you never took a random cigarette from a stranger, but since Lawson vouched for it and was connected to his daughter, Mr. Gaines accepted. Lawson lit it for him.
"Ray. Ray Gaines."
"Mr. Gaines, you don't want your wife becoming somebody else's wife, do you?"
The second those words left his mouth, Ray flared up like an enraged lion defending his territory. Granted, a hairless lion.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean, with the way your wife looks and carries herself, she's gonna get attention no matter where she lives. There are already a few middle-aged guys in my building sniffing around her hard. If you keep standing out here being too proud to apologize, you might end up watching Mrs. Gaines take a new last name real soon."