I look over my back as I enter the base. I can’t help that after the last few days since my fight with Nightblade at the park. I’ve refused any interviews after the fight so the media has been effectively stalking me.
Despite their best efforts, the reporters haven’t been about to get to me at school thanks to the work of Principal Jenson and with the help of the others, I’ve been able to sneak out of school undetected. At home, my parents are keeping them away while I’ve been spending most of my time at Sam’s, James’ or the base.
Narszara is waiting for me at the computer.
“Hello milord,” greets Narszara without looking at me, “Something interesting has just come up.”
“What’s that?” I inquire.
“A troublesome customer at a Sentinel Technologies shop in Christchurch,” answers Narszara, “It would not be wrong to put on your armour and intervene there.”
“It might as well,” I reply, “It is my shop after all.”
“That was my thinking as well,” agrees Narszara, “And I am assuming that you would prefer if I did not deal with it myself.”
“Definitely,” I tell her.
I hate to think what Narszara might do if it was left up to her to deal with the situation.
I toss my bag and blazer aside as I walk towards the lab.
“How are the Rileys?” I ask her.
“Settling well,” says Narszara, “MI9 is currently sorting out a new home for them and education for the children.”
“What about the kids’ education at the moment?”
“Alex is teaching them. She is a great help to both them and I.”
“I’m glad that you two are getting along.”
I step into the lab and walk towards the Sentinel armour. That sorts out my latest worries of how well the base’s new occupants will get along with each other.
The process of suiting up goes smoothing and within three minutes I’m already in flight out in the sky.
The journey only takes somewhere between four and five minutes and I quietly land outside my store.
A quick glance inside quickly tells me what’s going on. A chavish and overweight man is causing a scene inside, sweary tirade included. A beleaguered cashier, two shop workers and a manager are trying to deal with him to no avail.
Only the cashier notices me as I quickly enter the shop.
“Just give the damn &*£$ing thing for free!” screams the troublesome customer, “I deserve it after all the trouble you caused me! I’m going to complain to the CEO and you’ll be fired.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to tell you that won’t be happening,” I say quietly behind him.
“And just #@£*ing who do you think-” the man starts before freezing as he realises who exactly he is talking to.
“I’m the CEO of the company that owns this store,” I reply coldly, “And you are the idiot who has annoyed me.”
“You can’t call me!” exclaims the man, “I’m the customer and the customer is always right!”
“Yes I can and no, they are not,” I say before turning to the employees, my employees, “What has happened here?”
“This man wanted to attain several products and tried to claim fake discounts to-,” starts the manager before the customer interrupts.
“That is not true!” shouts the customer, “That piece of £%-”
I don’t give the fool a chance to finish insulting the manager any further as I casually swing my fist into his gut. The man staggers backwards, shocked and winded.
“Shut it before I electrocute you,” I warn him before facing the manager, “I take it that he then caused a fuss and started demanding the products for free?”
“Yes, um, sir,” answers the manager.
“When did the rudeness and profanity start?” I ask.
“Since the beginning,” says the manager as a police car arrives outside.
“I will report you to the company,” mutters the customer, his face red, “You’ll all be fired.”
“Incorrect,” I reply without even looking at him, “As the owner of the company, I can safely say no one will be fired over this event.”
“I will never buy from you again!” screams the customer, “Just lost a customer!”
“I don’t care,” I reply dismissively, “Get that into your thick skull.”
“Of course you do!” complains the man, “You just lost my money! That’s what you care about!”
“I care about helping people,” I reply, fixing him with a stare, “The money is just a means to an end. In case you didn’t notice, I am a superhero foremost, not a corporate executive.”
A couple of police officers have entered the shop and are going to arrest the troublesome man.
“I’ll be going now,” I say as I turn.
“Can I have your autograph?” asks one of the employees meekly.
I shrug and say, “Why not?”
By the end of it, I’ve given autographs to all of the shop’s employees, both of the police officers and even the unruly customer. With a crowed forming outside, I swiftly fly into the air.