The clock slowly ticked by. The day had dragged on endlessly. The boy in the Black trench coat tapped his fingers impatiently on the car dash. He sat back in the driver’s seat.

The passenger side door opened. A red haired girl set in the passenger seat. She was skinny and her hair was in a ponytail down to the small of her back. She wore a baby tee and shorts. She was shivering. She sat in the driver’s seat and shut her door.

"Well Mister I’ve-gotta-have-the-first-shipments-the-store-gets-in-even-if-it-means-showing-up-at-three-in-the-morning. What do you have to say for yourself?" she said sarcastically. She turned on the heater, which wasn’t much; considering they were in a Volkswagen Bug.

"Sorry Amy, but I’ve got to get one. They’ll all be sold out by Monday." he replied.

"Really? Today’s Monday." She said, astonished.

"Exactly. That’s why I have to get one." he answered.

"Here, make it up to me." She finally said, snuggling up to him.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on one of the frosted windows. The boy rolled it down.

Outside stood a man in a brown trenchcoat. He smiled at them.

"Nice trench. Now can I help you?" the kid replied.

The man pulled out a gun and pointed it at them.

"Nice 9mm…Berreta." the kid replied calmly. Amy looked at S angrily. The man spoke.

"You see that toy store right there?"

"Yeah, I’m waiting until it opens."

"Good. We need a couple of hostages."

· · ·

The door to the janitor’s closet slammed shut, locking. This left Amy and the kid to stare at the three other people in here.

The first was the manager of Bobby’s Toy Emporium, of which the janitorial closet they had been locked by terrorists. His name was Steve.

The next was the janitor, whose keys had been taken by the terrorists. His name was Richard.

The last was the clerk on duty when they broke in. His name was Kenny.

"Oh wow, new additions." Steve replied sarcastically.

Amy started going off "Oh… oh this is it! I’ve had it. I’m sorry honey, but we’ve got to break up. I’ve just had it up to here."

"Ok."

"How can you be so calm about everything? Are you on Valium or something?"

"Look at who you’re talking to. As well, it’s probably better for your safety if we just stay friends."

The other three didn’t fully understand, but realized relationship problems occur in every relationship.

The silence was then broke by Kenny.

"Hey, why this shit always gotta happen on my shift. ‘Member when we got robbed last month?" Kenny started in on Steve.

"Yeah, we lost four thousand dollars and twenty boxes of Playstation stuff." Steve responded.

"Well, gee, guess who’s shift it was?" Kenny continued.

"Ok, I see your point." Steve replied.

"Excuse me, how do we get out of here?" S asked Richard.

"Oh…and remember when that guy pulled a gun out because we were out of Resident Evil 2? And when the bank robber tried to hide here? Who’s shift was it then!?" Kenny yelled. The terrorist guarding the door banged on it and yelled to shut up.

"I see. That explains it." Steve answered. Kenny’s eyes went wide.

"Oh really?" Kenny asked.

"Yeah, they were all your fault. You’re fired." Steven said smiling.

"Excuse me," the kid interrupted "but how’ll we escape?" Every one looked at him.

"We…we’re locked in. We just gotta wait." Steve stammered.

"Well how about…that?" he asked, pointing to a ventilation grate in the ceiling.

The kid walked over to the janitor’s closet, took the step ladder from next to it, and set it up under the grate. He removed the grate and climbed inside. "I’ll come back for you, baby."

"Well…well…he can’t do that. He can’t. They’ll kill us if he’s gone. Stop him!" Steve rambled.

"I don’t work here, remember?" Kenny replied. He and Richard sat back and whistled, smiling at Steve who now backed up babbling.

· · ·

The kid crawled along the ventilation shaft. He came across the grate looking down into the manager’s room. One terrorist occupied the room, sitting on the desk and smoking a cigarette.

"Eat your heart out Bruce…" he muttered to himself. He lifted the grate, aimed his foot, and dropped down.

His shoe hit the terrorist right between the head and shoulders, shattering his neck instantly. He gurgled, and fell to the floor.

The boy grabbed the MP5K sub machine gun from the dead man’s hands, checked the ammo, and turned off the safety. He peered through the small window in the door to the store, opened the door, and poked his head out.

There were dozens of isles in rows, but no one was in the isle he now occupied.

He stared at the shelf before him and smiled. This could be a relaxing day.

· · ·

Ajahje walked down the isle of toys. He swore he had seen someone run down this isle. He peered around.

A voice came from behind him.

"Hello, Mister Terrorist. How are you today?"

He looked around, but saw nothing.

"Fine? I bet terrorism is a stressful job to be in. Why don’t you take a nap?"

Ajahje looked around frantically, trying to search for the face of the voice.

"Up here, stupid-ass."

Ajahje looked up, saw half a dozen basketballs flying at his head, and was pummeled unconscious.

· · ·

S slowly edged to the corner of an isle, and peered around. He spied a terrorist in a red beret. He had an AK-47 and was smoking a Cuban cigar (the kid recognized the label immediately).

Next to Red Beret stood a skinny terrorist who had no weapon, but had a black suit and glasses. He appeared to be a tech specialist.

In front of Red Beret and Tech Specialist sat a table with stuff on it. The kid didn’t recognize them at first, but he peered at it and his eyes went wide when he recognized what they were.

On the other side of the table stood two Japanese men in business suits. They held suitcases in each hand.

"Well, Oshindo, I’ve been told you’re interested in buying banned weapons that mother Iraq has been building." Red Beret said, addressing the older Japanese man.

"Yes, we see that this technology is very feared. Our prime minister seeks power that even great America might fear. Hjare, you can provide us with these things?" Oshindo asked the man in the red beret.

"Yes. You have the weapons?"

"Right in front of you."

"This is it?"

"This suitcase contains a vial of every bio-weapon we’ve been working on. You take these back to Japan, study them, and you have the formulas to recreate them."

"Didn’t the Americans ban these? Your country isn’t allowed to build them."

"Yeah, we said we had gone clean, but really we bought land in Michigan and set up a laboratory to continue our research."

They all simultaneously bust out chuckling "Stupid Americans."

After a few minutes of chuckling, they resumed. Oshindo spoke.

"Hmmm. You are a good trades-man. Four hundred million dollars for your top secrets? That’s fair."

"Well, I thought so."

"Just let me ask you one thing. Why this toy store?"

"I don’t know, I was just drawn to it. It beckoned me."

"Where are the manager and the employees?"

"They’re in the janitorial closet. Those stupid Americans think they’re being held hostage or something."

All four laughed at the stupidity of Americans. They calmed down and resumed. "So what do you plan to do them?"

"After the deal, we’ll just leave. So, the money?"

The Japanese handed their right suitcases to the Iraqis. Hjare opened his suitcase, smiled, and closed it.

"What, you think this is some joke? This is Monopoly money!" Hjare laughed. He realized the Japanese had the suitcases of vials and were backing up. They dropped the other suitcases, and they were now carrying short swords.

"Now we take your vials, and we leave!" Oshindo laughed.

The two Japanese backed up, turned around, and stopped. They now stared at four Iraqis with AK-47s pointed at them.

"The vials in those suitcases are just Kool-Aid anyways." Hjare laughed. He signaled, and the terrorist line mowed down the Japanese. The kid frowned, and raised his guns. He strapped the AK-47 to his back, and held readied the MP5K which was smaller and more maneuverable than the AK-47.

The kid closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, let it out, and opened his eyes.

· · ·

The kid stepped out and spread several bursts across the line of terrorists who had just mowed down the Japanese.

All but one fell back, struck by bullets. The last was passed by the shots and spared his life.

He thanked Allah and aimed to fire back, but the kid was gone. Hjare looked around.

"Husan, go find him!" he yelled at the lone survivor. Husan walked warily down the rows of isles.

Hjare turned to the terrorist next to him. "Gerald, get your stuff, we leave now."

Gerald cleaned his glasses, then ran towards the room that he had set up lab.

Hjare smiled, and ran towards the janitorial closet.

· · ·

Husan looked down the isles and, try as he might, could not find the kid. He heard a mighty groaning, and he turned to see an isle coming down at him. That was the last thing he would know until later when he would eventually awaken in a police car in handcuffs.

On the other side of the building, Gerald walked out of the back room carrying a suitcase and a Berreta. He came to the front door, and stopped. He turned around, and the butt of an AK-47 slammed into his face.

The kid looked down at the unconscious body. "That was pretty humane.", he thought.

"Ok American, let us go or I kill your woman!" Hjare yelled.

The kid turned to see directly behind him. He saw Hjare holding Amy in front of him, with a pistol aimed up under her chin.

The kid laid down his weapons, and raised his hands. Hjare pointed the gun at him.

"What is your name before I kill you?" Hjare asked.

The kid peered behind him and saw Gerald standing back up, aiming his Berreta at the kid as well.

"You can call me Agent S." he replied.

"You, an agent? You’re just a kid. Then again you wasted almost all my men. No matter, I’ll kill you anyway." Hjare said. With that, he aimed to fire, pushing Amy to the side.

Agent S dropped to the floor, and Gerald and Hjare’s bullets hit each other.

When the smoke cleared, the only one left standing was Amy. Agent S got up, shook his head at the terrorists, and walked over to Hjare’s body.

He grabbed the keys, rushed over to the Janitorial closet, and opened it. Without a word, Agent S walked back over to Amy, grabbed her hand, and they walked out.

Agent S paused, grabbed the suitcase that Gerald had, and continued.

· · ·

Turning the dial on the radio, S couldn’t find anything good. He caressed the suitcase at his feet. He stopped the car at a burger joint, and turned to Amy.

"Hungry?"

"Honey, explain. What the hell it is with you? Why does this shit always happen to you? Are you jinxed?"

"I’m not ‘jinxed’ so to speak. I’m just incredibly lucky. Those Japanese would never have come there by them selves, and those Iraqis would have never had met in a toy store. And above all, I would never had survived that last gunfight."
"So why’d it happen like that?"

"It’s just me. Strange things happen when I’m around. Everyday for me is adventure, gunfights, and car chases. I’m also lucky enough to always come out unharmed. I can’t explain it."

"Well, you know I love you, but I can’t go on like this. Goodbye, I’ll call."

And with that, Amy walked out of his life forever.

He sighed. He knew he’d probably meet some damsel in distress just around the corner, but his heart held him back.

He put the car in park, and walked into Wally’s Burgers.

· · ·

As the kid walked in the door, he fell to the floor, along with all the other customers. The only staff member not on the floor stood taking an order.

The man waving a gun turned to the customers on the floor. "No, I just wanted breakfast. That’s all. Just a FUCKIN’ muffin or something. But what do I get? NO, I get this powder-add-water eggs, and this brick you call a biscuit. Give me real food! Now!"

The girl who was tending the register found a gun at her temple. He cocked it back and laughed.

Agent S arose, and pulled the Berreta he still had left. The man turned, and both S and the maniac fired at the same time. They both fell to the floor.

S slowly got up, and looked at the gunshot wound. He suddenly realized he had slipped his car keys in his shirt pocket when he had left the car. They had stopped the bullet. He didn’t doubt the luck of that happening at all.

He walked to the cash register.

"I want a number one."

"Sir, it’s still breakfast. We-"

"Look lady, I’ve been through a hard day, I was held terrorist by Iraqians this morning, and I just got shot saving your ass. I said I want a number one. Ok?"

"Number one." She called up. She looked at him. "I guess it’s on the house."

As he sat at a table, everyone got up to get on with their lives. He thought about his explanation to Amy.

"Always in the wrong place at the wrong time…"

He looked up and saw they had brought his order. They thanked him, and he left as cop cars pulled up. He had gotten two bites from his burger on the way to his car, when he looked at his car.

"Hey!" he yelled at the man who was now breaking into his car.

He ran, but his bug pulled off without him. He sat down and ate his burger. He knew he’d see his car again, shortly.

He turned, and a friend sat down next to him. He wore a brown suit.

"Hey buddie, how’s it going?"

"Hey Recluse. What’s up?"

"S, I need you to deliver this suitcase to Tommy’s Pawn and Jewelry. Tell him this suitcase is from me, need to give it to him ASAP."

"Sure thing. Why?"

"Can’t explain. Here…"

Recluse handed Agent S stacks of money. Ten thousand dollars to be exact. Recluse then got up and climbed into his brown Rolls Royce.

Agent S frowned at the huge gun shot wound in Recluse’s back. He knew Recluse wouldn’t live past twenty minutes. He was probably driving off to die a peaceful death somewhere.

S sighed.

"What a day."

He thought a second, looked at the suitcase, then replied:

"But it’s not over yet."

Continued Next Issue…

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