The Club was crowded
Music thundered through the air, lights cut across the crowd, and bodies moved in careless rhythm.
Yet among the chaos, a boy and a girl stood apart—present, but not involved.
They weren't dancing.
They were watching.
Scanning faces. Exits. Corners.
Then—
Everything changed.
Four men stepped forward.
Guns flashed.
BANG.
A shot fired into the air.
The music died instantly.
Fear replaced rhythm.
"Party's over," one of the men sneered.
People froze.
Some screamed.
Others dropped to the floor.
The robbers spread out, working fast—snatching wallets, jewelry, phones. Then the tone shifted.
Bullying.
Mocking.
Power-drunk cruelty.
One of them approached the girl, his grin crawling with intent.
"Smile a little, sweetheart."
She didn't flinch.
"Ask your mother," she replied coldly.
Silence.
The man snapped.
In one violent motion, he grabbed her from behind, twisted her arm, locked his forearm around her neck, and pressed the gun to her head.
Gasps rippled through the club.
The boy stood directly in front of her.
Their eyes met.
No fear.
No panic.
A silent count.
Now.
The girl drove her knee upward—hard—striking him at the most vulnerable point of his body.
The robber howled.
In the same breath, she twisted, disarmed him with a clean, practiced motion, and caught the gun.
At the exact moment—
The boy lunged forward, smashing into two robbers at once, slamming them to the floor with brutal force. They crashed together, stunned.
The fourth robber was shocked by seeing these unexpected visuals. Hereacted late—too late.
He raised his gun toward the girl.
BANG.
The boy fired.
The bullet tore through that forth robber's hand.
The gun fell.
BANG.
Another shot—straight to the thigh. The man collapsed screaming.
"Thanks, Chief," the girl said calmly.
The two robbers on the ground staggered up.
The boy swung the gun like a hammer—cracking one across the head. The man crumpled.
BANG.
BANG.
The girl fired twice—both shots clean, both knees disabled. The other robber who stood , now dropped, unable to stand.
The last man—the creep—tried to crawl.
BANG.
A final shot to the knee.
Immobilized.
Alive.
Silence swallowed the club.
Everyone stared.
Professional.
Precise.
Controlled.
The boy and girl turned and walked out as if nothing had happened.
Outside—
"Useless security," the girl muttered. "Didn't even notice four armed men."
"At least call the police," she added.
They drove off, merging onto the highway.
"Do you think we'll ever just… relax?" she asked.
The boy exhaled.
"I doubt it."
Then—
BOOM.
A distant explosion lit the night.
They turn their vehicle toward the sound.
A car tore past them in the opposite direction—far too fast.
Moments later, they arrived.
Fire.
Smoke.
Twisted metal.
The boy's jaw tightened.
"That wasn't a firecracker."
The girl raised her radio.
"Control, this is Officer Emily," she said sharply.
"Reporting a major explosion on the highway. Possible vehicle involvement. Securing the scene. Dispatch backup immediately."
She lowered the device.
It's just the beginning.