The Broken Duo
The rain had finally stopped.
But the silence it left behind… was heavier than ever.
Only two officers remained behind Grayson.
They stood awkwardly. No one moved.
Then—one of them stepped forward.
Tall. Gaunt. Eyebrows tense.
And when he opened his mouth, it sounded like a dying chainsaw chewing on gravel.
“(grkkhh)… wgh-huurghh… we c-ccould pull b-b-bwaaa-ck—ghrnnnnn—ssstrattegi… cckkkhh—replaaawgh—ch—”
A long pause.
Grayson stared.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
No response. Just that determined look on the officer’s face.
Grayson turned to the other cop.
“Did you get that?”
The second cop shook his head hard.
“Not a single word. I think he said ‘lasagna’ at one point.”
The officer with the broken voice turned… and looked at the delivery girl.
She blinked, eyebrows raised.
“What? Don’t look at me. I didn’t understand a thing.”
Grayson sighed.
“Alright, well… whatever the hell that was, it sounded passionate.”
“I’m gonna guess… you wanna fight. Right? Avenge the ones we lost?”
He nodded to himself, completely confident in his wild guess.
“I respect that.”
Then he clapped the officer on the shoulder dramatically.
“And for that… I give you a name.”
“From now on, you’re Broken Voice. Because honestly, Jesus Christ, man—your throat sounds like it’s been dragged through a meat grinder.”
The tall cop didn’t say a word.
His face slowly lost color.
He looked around, confused, almost desperate—like someone trapped in the wrong dream.
He tried to protest, but all that came out was another garbled croak.
Too late.
The nickname stuck.
And worse—he was now being sent in.
Grayson turned to the other cop.
“You’re going too.”
The second officer nodded, took one step forward, then hesitated.
He looked back at Grayson, voice hopeful:
“Chief… they’ve all got nicknames. But I don’t.”
Grayson scanned him quickly. Then noticed it.
The zipper.
Wide open. Practically screaming for attention.
Grayson smirked.
“Alright. You’re Broken Zippers.”
“The name found you.”
The officer stood tall and proud, like he’d been knighted.
“Thank you, Chief. I actually like it. My zipper’s been broken for two months. Not kidding.”
The delivery girl blinked again, slowly realizing this might not be the elite squad she imagined.
Together, the two stepped forward:
Broken Voice and Broken Zippers.
The most tragic duo the force had ever sent into action.
As they approached the open street where Raymond stood like a ticking time bomb, the delivery girl leaned in.
“Hey Chief… what do you think their chances are?”
Grayson didn’t even pause.
“Ten percent. Probably less. They’re pretty weak.”
Instant Double Knockout
Grayson never really expected those two officers to win.
All he wanted was for them to buy him some time—just a few dozen exchanges.
Wear Raymond out a little. Then he’d swoop in, land the final hit, and walk away looking like the hero.
He stood there with a smug little grin. Confident.
That smirk didn’t go unnoticed—
The delivery girl caught it out of the corner of her eye.
Huh… maybe this Chief isn’t all bad.
Confident. Kinda sharp too. I mean… four nicknames in one day? And they weren’t random either—each one had its own vibe. Like, weirdly educated nicknames.
But plans don’t always go the way you expect.
The moment the two officers stepped forward—before they could even say a word—Raymond slammed his fist into the ground.
BOOM.
Cracks shot through the pavement like spiderwebs. A shockwave exploded outward.
The two cops were thrown back instantly—flung like rag dolls—then smashed into the ground and started puking. Hard.
It was instant. Total knockout.
Even Grayson and the delivery girl—standing thirty meters away—felt a little tremble under their feet.
The girl’s eyes widened.
“Oh my god… what kind of power is that?”
Grayson didn’t say a word. He looked… mildly embarrassed. But still calm. Still collected.
Sure, the timing didn’t go as planned. But he still believed he had a solid shot.
He walked over to the delivery girl, placed both hands on her shoulders.
“Alright. I’m going in. If I win… will you give me a kiss?”
Her face flushed red. She hesitated… and nodded.
Grayson leaned in, lips ready.
She quickly blocked his face with her hand.
“You said after you win.”
Grayson pulled back with a shrug.
“Fine. Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Before he could turn away, the delivery girl tilted her head, eyes curious.
“Wait—Chief. Just curious… if I were part of your team, what nickname would you give me?”
Grayson stopped.
His eyes moved slowly—scanning her from head to toe. Then, they landed… and stayed.
Locked on her chest.
For ten full seconds.
He nodded, dead serious.
“Bouncy Boobs.”
She blinked, stunned for half a second—
Then broke into a laugh.
“Oh my god… that’s actually kinda brilliant.”
She shook her head, still grinning.
“You’re ridiculous. But low-key? You’re like… a poetic pervert.”
Grayson flashed a smug grin.
“Gifted, not ridiculous.”
Only then did he turn to leave.
And just as he started walking toward the battlefield, the girl called out behind him:
“Go easy on Raymond, okay? Don’t kill him.”
Grayson threw her a lazy thumbs-up over his shoulder.
Modern Weapon Unleashed
Grayson stepped forward.
He kept a solid fifteen meters between himself and Raymond—just enough to feel safe.
He didn’t rush. Didn’t flinch. Just walked like he already knew he’d win.
The delivery girl watched him from behind.
Her heart skipped.
God… he’s so confident. So composed. Maybe I’m actually falling for this man…
Grayson lowered his head slightly and whispered to himself.
“No choice… You forced me into this. I didn’t want to use it. But now… I have to pull out my final weapon.”
In this modern world—who still fights with fists?
He pulled out a sleek 9mm pistol.
Raymond slowly turned to face him, expressionless.
Not even a trace of fear.
Right then, the delivery girl shouted out behind them.
“Wait! Sweetheart—if you shoot him like that, he won’t survive! Please, go easy! He used to be so kind… he was just a sweet baker…”
Grayson didn’t respond.
In the next second, he raised the gun and emptied the entire magazine—firing all fourteen rounds in rapid succession.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Done. No hesitation.
Then, eyes closed, he let out a dramatic sigh.
“What a shame… We could’ve talked this out like civilized human beings. But I guess this was always how it had to end…”
But what Grayson didn’t know—
Raymond was already moving.
His fists blurred—faster than the eye could follow. He threw punch after punch, hitting each bullet mid-air.
Each impact rang out like sharp, metallic thunder.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
He caught twelve of them.
The last two? He tilted his head slightly and twisted his torso—dodging them with ridiculous ease.
Not even a scratch.
When Grayson opened his eyes…
Raymond was still standing.
Upright. Tall. Unshaken. Alive.
Grayson froze.
He blinked, confused. His heart dropped. And then—
He felt something warm in his pants.
He’d pissed himself.
Thankfully, the rain had just stopped. Everything was still wet.
Maybe no one noticed.
He took two steps back. His knees wobbled. His voice trembled.
“…He is a monster.”
Kung Fu 101
The two bullets Raymond didn’t catch kept flying forward—fast, deadly, and almost invisible in the misty air.
One of them zipped straight into the side of a nearby halal food cart parked at the curb. Inside, a guy was flipping grilled chicken with a set of tongs, his head bobbing slightly to the beat of some music in his earbuds.
Suddenly, he paused—eyes narrowing.
He felt it. The wind changed. Just slightly.
In a blur, he dropped the tongs and raised two fingers.
Clink.
He caught the bullet mid-air—clean between his index and middle finger.
Then, with a calm little sigh, he looked down at it and smirked.
“Good thing I didn’t skip Kung Fu 101 back in college,”
he said out loud to nobody in particular.
“Didn’t even need the advanced course. You’d be amazed what they teach in the intro class.”
He flicked the bullet onto the cart’s metal tray and went back to flipping chicken.
Meanwhile, the second bullet kept flying—this one strayed a little wider, toward a theater entrance down the block.
At that moment, a group of six college students were walking past the movie posters, skipping class together to catch a film. Five of them were up front, chatting about the plot and laughing over the big twist.
The sixth student had fallen behind a few steps, nose buried in his phone, thumbs tapping away.
He never even looked up.
The bullet sliced through the air—clean, precise—and entered straight through his temple.
His body collapsed without a sound.
No thud. No scream. No drama.
The group ahead didn’t notice a thing. They just kept talking, walking, and eventually disappeared around the corner—still thinking their friend was just lagging behind.
Behind them, a still figure lay on the pavement.
Moral of the day?
Sometimes… going to class really matters.
First Love, First Heartbreak
Grayson backed away step by step.
He looked at Raymond like he was staring into the face of a demon. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened in panic. Then he spun around and ran straight toward the delivery girl.
She was already on her scooter, revving the engine.
“Come on!” she shouted. “Get on! We’re leaving—now!”
Raymond, meanwhile, hadn’t moved a muscle.
He just stood there, totally still—completely uninterested in either of them.
His head turned slowly as he scanned the area.
What was he looking for?
Anything reflective.
Glass. Windows. Storefronts. Shiny displays.
His obsession wasn’t people. Wasn’t violence.
It was glass.
In his mind, a voice echoed over and over again:
“Go destroy the glass windows.”
Endlessly repeating.
Driving him insane.
Grayson reached the scooter—but instead of hopping on behind the girl…
He kicked her off. Hard.
She yelped and hit the ground, stunned.
Grayson didn’t even glance back.
Survival was the only thing in his head now.
He yanked the scooter from her hands, kicked it into gear, and blasted off down the wet street.
His jacket flapped behind him, tires screeched, and within seconds—he was gone.
The delivery girl lay on the ground, shaking, clothes soaked in dirty water and tears.
She didn’t get up.
She just stared ahead and cried.
This was her first heartbreak.
The first time she had ever truly fallen for someone.
And the first time she realized how much it could hurt.
Longing for a Kiss
Monica was still on the ground, crying—knees scraped, heart broken.
She had never felt this kind of pain before. It wasn’t the fall. It wasn’t the scooter. It was the heartbreak.
This… was her first time falling for someone. And just like that—he kicked her off a damn scooter and left.
It was the first time she realized what heartbreak really meant.
And just when she thought she was all alone—
A hand reached out.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She looked up. An old man—wrinkled face, wearing some kind of old-school railroad worker’s uniform from the 1950s. The guy looked at least 80.
But something about him was glowing. Literally. He looked… radiant.
Her tear-filled eyes sparkled.
He helped her up. They stood there, eyes locked. For one long minute—maybe two—no one said anything. The storm had passed. The sky was quiet again.
Then, she asked quietly, almost whispering,
“Can I be your girlfriend?”
She blinked a few times.
“I know… you look like you’re about 80. And I’m only twenty. So that’s a sixty-year gap. But… I don’t mind.”
The man blinked back at her.
“What are you talking about? I’m only 18.”
She gasped—mouth open.
“What?!”
That made her even happier.
“Oh my god! So you’re not an old man… You’re just a really old-looking young guy?! That’s adorable!”
He shrugged.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
That’s when she asked again, heart pounding,
“Do you already have a girlfriend?”
He hesitated.
“Yeah… I do.”
She didn’t flinch. Not even for a second.
“I don’t mind at all.”
She smiled, beaming with genuine innocence.
“By the way… my name’s Monica.”
He nodded slowly.
“Lawson.”
And without a word more, she leaned in.
A kiss.
Not wild. Not rushed.
Just… real.
A moment passed. And then, Monica whispered softly—
“You know what… I’ve been longing for my very first kiss with someone I truly love—every single night.”
And with that line—
This strange, twisted, violent, ridiculous day… ended.