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.
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