"Who smashed in your windows?" He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and jeans. He resembled any other resident of Richland. However, his voice was odd. Although he had attempted to sound friendly there was definitely an air of condescension around him. The man on the other side of the counter either failed to notice, or didn't care.
"One of those redpill types. They were brawling, right in broad daylight too, and one of them got kicked straight through my window!" The elderly shopkeeper's tone was one of anger. "Then, without even so much as a ‘sorry', they continued their fight back on the street. I ran out after them but they were already gone."
"They cause trouble wherever they go. Someone ought to do something."
"Heh, I'll leave that up to the law. The things I've heard they can do! I'm sure some of it is rumors but there has to be some truth somewhere."
"The law?" He gave a laugh that reeked of arrogance as it echoed around the small, tiny shop. "They work together. I've seen them. Those officials in suits shaking hands with those trenched troublemakers. They won't do anything."
"Seriously?" The shopkeeper was obviously both surprised and disgusted. "This city is so corrupted. It's just chaos!" His customer gave a quick smirk at this comment but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"If you want anything done in this city, you have to do it yourself." His face was now one of complete seriousness.
"What? Like vigilantes? Don't be stupid. That'd make us as bad as them. Not to mention the punishment. And I'm just an old man!" The shopkeeper shuddered at the thought of having to fight.
"Do you have children sir?"
"Yes. Two. But I don't see what that has to..." He was cut off abruptly.
"I was taking a shortcut home from work yesterday. One of these redpill types approaches me. He starts telling me all sorts of ridiculous things. About machines. About dreaming. About some sort of messiah. The guy was obviously high as a kite. I told him where to go in a not-so-polite fashion, and then, if you'll believe it, he tries to give me some kind of drug. This little red pill. It resembled a jelly bean. I refused of course, but imagine if that's one of your children, or their children. I mean I don't know their ages but you can see what I'm saying?" The elderly shopkeeper who had been nodding throughout his story appeared worried as soon as his children were mentioned.
"I never thought about it like that." The customer nodded back in a sympathetic way.
"I know how you feel. My point is that unless we, the normal people, do something about this city, then it's going to fall apart. I'm just thinking about the future."
"Yeah I see what you mean. Maybe you're right."
The customer glanced at his watch. "Oh dear, it's getting late. I'm sorry I've been talking your ear off." He picked up the little pack he had just purchased. It was labeled ‘Slumberil'. "Goodbye!""
"Bye. I'll keep in mind what you said!" The shopkeeper watched the man leave his store. As soon as he was on his own he gave a cautious glance towards the door and then reached down towards a draw and opened it. Inside, laid, among other things, a handgun. He muttered to himself, almost absentmindedly. "I'll definitely keep in mind what you said."
He looked around to see if he was alone. The alley was empty. Then there was a strange fizzing noise. The man who was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans had disappeared. Standing in his place was another man. He wore a red vest under a crimson trench coat decorated with flames. On his head he wore a black hat and rose-tinted glasses. His expression was a satisfied one. His smile was arrogant. Behind his glasses, his eyes were full of purpose, and perhaps a touch of madness. He put the small pack entitled ‘Slumberil' into a pocket. After giving another cautious glance around the alley, he looked up to the sky, and then jumped into the night.
