John's initial plan to get security footage from the surrounding buildings has failed. He thought about seeking for a larger store or establishment but realized that larger stores and businesses would have more stringent hiring processes, requiring identification and background checks he can't pass.
Hence his new plan which was unlike himself but he forced himself to accept the change. He believes that by Impressing and convincing Elara to help him, he can gain access to the resources he desperately needs.
He will appear as a mysterious skilled man with stories to tell and quite fond of her, which lady hasn't fantasized of this. H is only current concrete clue is the instructor's unchanging shoes. He has to present his information in a way that is compelling enough to intrigue her, but vague enough to protect his true identity and the nature of his mission.
He could avoid all this trouble by making a police report but a formal missing persons report would trigger an official investigation, one that would undoubtedly lead back to him. The paperwork, the questions, the routine of it all expose his carefully constructed facade.
That's why his gaze had fallen on Elara. She was a rookie, a cop with a chip on her shoulder and a burning need to prove herself. She was the perfect tool. The question wasn't if she'd help, but how far she was willing to go to get the recognition she craved.
The cafe door chimed, a familiar sound that tonight announced the arrival of the police. Rain lashed against the windows, and the officers, their uniforms slick with water, shook off the downpour as they entered. John took a slow sip of water, his eyes flicking up from his Subway sandwich for just a second. He saw Elara, her gaze briefly fixed on him, before he deliberately looked away and unwrapped his food, just another guy grabbing a late dinner.
The cafe settled back into a low hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware, and the rumble of thunder outside. Then, a shrill alarm tore through the quiet. A collective gasp rose from everyone, their bodies tensing. The officers were on their feet in an instant, hands already on their service weapons, their training kicking in.
The cafe erupted into chaos. The cops, their hands on their weapons, rushed toward the windows and doors, trying to get a clear view of the commotion outside. John was already there, a silent observer at a window table. The scene unfolding before him was a stark reminder of the universe he inhabited.
A black van screeched to a halt across the street. Masked figures spilled out, weapons in hand, and began a brazen assault on the jewelry store. The shattering of glass, the blare of the alarm, and the terrified screams of a scattering crowd filled the air.
The police officers, fully aware of the situation, drew their firearms. One of them, a young officer, had the presence of mind to shout for everyone in the cafe to stay put and take cover. As they pressed their radios to their shoulders, calling for backup, John's eyes found Elara. She was trying to hide it, but her hands were visibly trembling.
The officers burst out of the cafe, using their patrol car as a makeshift shield. One of the cops got inside, his voice amplified by the car's loudspeaker as he began addressing the thieves.
"Put your hands where I can see them!" the officer's voice boomed, echoing off the wet brickwork of the street. "Drop your weapons and get on the ground!"
The thieves paid him no mind. They were grabbing trays of jewels and shoving them into duffel bags with quickness. One of them, a bulky figure in a ski mask, looked up from his work and smirked at the police car before raising his own weapon at another jewelry store's large display window.
He fired. The glass shattered outward, sending a cascade of diamonds and emeralds raining down onto the sidewalk. The distraction worked. As the cops flinched and one of them shouted a curse, the thieves made their move, piling into the van. The doors slammed shut, and with a roar of its engine, the van screeched away from the curb and disappeared into the rainy night.
The cops were left standing in the street, bewildered and empty-handed. But soon they all scrambled to get into their car to give chase. John watched as Elara, her hands still shaking, lowered her weapon and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. Her moment to prove herself had been snatched away just as it had begun.
Or so Elara thought. The moment the cops got into their cars, John quietly slipped out of the cafe . As he moved, his eyes scanned the ground, and he pocketed a handful of pebbles.
John's current plan was to be Elara's guardian angel, a silent protector on the rooftops in case the situation escalated. But as the thieves' van sped away, he had to improvise. He began a full-blown sprint, scaling the nearest building with a practiced grace. From his perch on the rooftop, he watched the van disappear, just as the cops followed right after.
He quickly found a new vantage point, his movements a blur of parkour across the rooftops. He took the handful of pebbles from his pocket. A switch flipped inside him, his senses sharpening as his training with the League of Assassins kicked in. Adrenaline surged, and his hand became a blur of motion. One by one, the pebbles were thrown with incredible speed and precision.
Inside the van, the thieves were celebrating their successful heist. The driver, reveling in their escape, suddenly noticed a small black blur hit the windshield. The impact was nothing special, but it created a small, spiderweb crack in the glass.
A moment of confusion passed inside the van. Then, another pebble struck the same spot on the windshield, followed by a rapid-fire succession of impacts, thud, thud, thud. The small crack spiderwebbed and then shattered entirely, a hail of glass exploding inward.
The driver screamed, shielding his face as he instinctively swerved the van hard to the right. The vehicle careened off the street and slammed into the side of a building with a deafening crash.
"What the fuck was that?!" one of the thieves yelled as he scrambled to kick open the back door.
"I don't know, but we gotta move! The cops are coming!" another shouted. True to his word, the wail of sirens was growing louder just down the street.
The thieves who managed to get out of the wreck opened fire on the approaching police cruisers, forcing the officers to slam on their brakes and take cover. This brief, violent exchange was all the distraction the other robbers needed. They bolted from the wreckage, disappearing into the dark, rain-slicked alleyways.
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