They Will All Bow To Me!

Chapter 5

The air around Neon Wears was still electric with tension when Becky Franchester’s sleek Bentley Continental rolled into the lot. The golden emblem gleamed under the afternoon light, and the instant the tires screeched to a halt, every security officer snapped to attention. Even the arrogant Charger—who only moments ago was barking orders—straightened his uniform and rushed forward, head bowed.

Becky stepped out with the poise of someone born into power. Her designer heels clicked sharply against the pavement as her sharp eyes scanned the scene. Her perfectly styled hair and expensive fragrance seemed to announce her presence even before her lips parted.

“Good afternoon, Miss Becky!” the guards chorused, bowing in sync.

Barry and Jace were still kneeling, begging for mercy, their voices trembling. Michael, however, had enough. He turned to his friends and said in a low, firm voice, “Get up.”

They hesitated.

“I said, get up,” Michael repeated, pulling them by their arms until they stood.

Becky’s gaze darted toward them just in time to see Michael’s hand dragging the two to their feet. A frown crossed her face. ‘How dare they stand before me uninvited?’

Before she could even open her mouth, Charger quickly rushed to explain, eager to keep his image intact. “Ma’am, these boys are thieves! I caught them trying to sneak into the store. I was just about to—”

He didn’t finish.

Becky raised her hand dismissively, glaring at Michael. “Thieves?”

Barry and Jace immediately dropped back to their knees in panic, stammering, “No, no, ma’am! Please, we weren’t—please, we didn’t steal anything!”

Their desperation only fueled Michael’s irritation. “Stop it,” he snapped.

But Becky wasn’t listening to anyone. She walked straight up to Michael, her heels striking the ground like war drums. “And you,” she hissed, standing inches from his face. “You dare talk back to my staff? Do I look like one of those cheap campus girls you throw words at?”

Before anyone could react—

SLAP!

The sharp crack echoed through the lot.

Barry and Jace froze. The security guards gasped. Even Charger took a step back.

Michael didn’t flinch. His cheek reddened instantly, but his expression remained cold, calm—terrifyingly calm.

Becky sneered. “Next time, keep your disgusting explanations to yourself. I didn’t ask for your filthy excuse.”

The security guards burst into laughter, mocking Michael loudly.

“Now that’s what you get, tough guy!” one jeered.

“Talk less next time!” another added.

Michael’s friends immediately fell back to their knees, hands clasped in desperate pleading. Becky found the sight disgusting.

“Throw them out,” she said flatly to Charger. “And make sure they remember never to come near Neon Wears again.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Charger barked, grinning wickedly.

Michael didn’t move. His head tilted slightly, and for a brief second, his eyes flickered with something cold and lethal. Inside, rage churned like a storm. ‘Two slaps in one day—from women who think they can toy with me. Both linked to the Franchester name.’

He whispered under his breath, almost to himself, “You’ll regret this.”

Becky turned to leave but then paused mid-step, smirking. “Wait a minute,” she said, spinning back toward Michael. “You look familiar.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh! You’re the loser from that viral video—Michael, right? The one my brother took his girlfriend from?”

Her laugh rang through the compound, cruel and ringing. “So now you’re desperate enough to rob my store? How pathetic.”

Charger and his men joined her laughter.

“Do me a favor,” Becky said as she walked off. “When you’re done with them, livestream it. Let the world see how thieves are punished at Neon Wears.”

She smirked again, then walked off into the building to her office. Her sleek Bentley Continental, parked there gleaming in beauty. 

Charger’s grin widened. “You heard the lady,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Time to give my followers a show.”

He went live instantly.

“Yo, what’s up, my people!” he announced to his thousands of fans. “It’s your boy Charger again—the one and only Top G of campus security! And guess what? I just caught three thieves trying to rob Neon Wears!”

His comments exploded within seconds:

“No way! Another bust?”

“Show us the thieves, Charger!”

“Haha, can’t wait to see this!”

Charger smirked. “You’ll love this one,” he said, turning the camera toward his men, who flexed and laughed, calling themselves “The Charger Force.”

Barry and Jace were kneeling in the background, shaking with fear.

The viewers began to recognize them.

“Wait! Aren’t those the guys who hang with that broke loser, Michael?”

“They actually tried to rob Neon Wears? LOL!”

Charger laughed, reading comments aloud. “Oh, you guys are good! You already know them, huh? But wait—who’s their ringleader?”

He lowered his tone dramatically. “You won’t believe who it is.”

The comments section went wild with guesses.

“Bet it’s that loser Michael!”

“Yeah, the one Danny Franchester embarrassed earlier!”

Charger grinned wickedly. “We have a winner!” he shouted. “Whoever guessed Michael, DM me your account—hundred bucks on the spot!”

The chat exploded again. “Show us his face!” they spammed.

Charger turned the camera toward Michael.

But before his followers could even glimpse his face—

WHAM!

A single, precise punch sent Charger crashing to the ground. His phone flew from his hand, landing face-up on the floor, still streaming.

For a moment, there was silence. His viewers saw nothing but sky.

Then a distant groan.

Charger rolled over, spitting blood—his front tooth gone. The camera caught everything. Comments flooded in:

“Wait, what happened?”

“Is he bleeding?!”

“Did someone hit Charger?”

Charger’s men panicked, rushing toward Michael.

“YOU’RE DEAD!” one shouted, swinging a baton.

But Michael’s body moved before thought—fluid, precise, lightning-fast. He sidestepped, grabbed the man’s wrist, twisted, and sent him crashing into the pavement. The second attacker flew backward from a roundhouse kick. The third barely blinked before Michael’s elbow found his jaw. The fourth tried to rush from behind but was flipped clean over Michael’s shoulder—landing on Becky’s Bentley with a deafening thud.

The live chat went insane.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!”

“He just took out four men in seconds!”

“No way that’s Michael!”

Barry and Jace stood frozen, mouths wide open. Charger, trembling, looked around at his fallen men. His bravado evaporated instantly.

He dropped to his knees. “Please… I didn’t know who you were… forgive me,” he stammered, clutching his bleeding mouth.

Michael looked down at him, expressionless.

Meanwhile, his phone still streamed, the viewers watching their so-called “Top G” begging for mercy. The comment section was chaos:

“LMAOOO Charger crying!”

“The Top G got dropped by a broke student!”

“Who IS that guy?!”

Some argued among themselves:

“That can’t be the same Michael. He is a weakling!”

“Must be Mikel, the karate champ. No way that loser fights like that.”

“Yeah. It must be Mikel. He’s also called Michael, remember!”

The legend of the mysterious fighter spread instantly, even as Michael turned away.

He dusted off his hands calmly and said, in a low voice only Barry and Jace could hear:

“Let’s go. I’m done wasting time here.”

As they walked off, Charger remained kneeling, trembling, holding his mouth—his reputation shattered live in front of the whole campus.