They Will All Bow To Me!

Chapter 7

The afternoon sun cast a golden hue through the tall glass windows of the luxury store as Michael and his friends wandered from aisle to aisle. They took their time, carefully checking the price tags before adding anything to their shopping baskets. 

Though the store sparkled with designer labels and limited-edition pieces, they stuck to the lower-end items—shirts, jeans, and shoes that wouldn’t drain their pockets.

Michael, however, couldn’t help but glance toward the exclusive sections — the ones roped off for premium clients. The crisp suits, gold-stitched jackets, and shoes that gleamed under the spotlights were calling his name. 

He could buy them all if he wanted to. But he couldn’t—not now, not without raising suspicion. He had already lied to Barry and Jace once about his fighting skills; another lie about money might make things worse. So, he swallowed the thought and stayed quiet, pretending to care about budget-friendly tags.

After a while, they were done and headed to the checkout desk. Their total items barely filled a single shopping bag.

The cashier at the main counter, a tall woman with long lashes and the kind of smile that never reached her eyes, eyed them from head to toe. Her name tag read Jessy. She let out a hiss, muttering under her breath.

“These broke boys again,” she whispered, rolling her eyes.

She looked at their clothes, then at her screen. The total wasn’t even up to $50,000. Her commission would be a measly $5,000. “What am I supposed to do with that?” she scoffed softly.

Barry and Jace were too busy chatting to notice, but Michael heard her clearly. He’d learned to listen more than he spoke—a habit born from years of being underestimated. He shook his head slightly, recognizing the arrogance in her tone. It reminded him too much of Jane Scott, his ex. The same shallow, entitled energy.

When Jessy saw Mikel and his group of baddies walking toward the counter, she suddenly straightened her hair, smiled brightly, and turned to Michael’s group.

“You three—go over there,” she said, pointing to another checkout desk. “Let Mira attend to you. She needs the practice.”

Barry frowned. “But we were here first.”

Jessy folded her arms. “And? You think I care? Go over there, broke boys. Don’t waste my time.”

Michael placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder before he could respond. “Let’s just go,” he said calmly.

At the next counter, the young lady behind the register smiled warmly as they approached. Her name tag read Mira.

“Welcome, sirs,” she said in a soft, graceful tone. “Thank you for shopping with us today. I really appreciate it.”

Barry blinked, surprised by her kindness. “Wow, you’re polite. Unlike that other lady.”

Mira giggled lightly. “I’ve only been here for three weeks,” she confessed. “Jessy and the senior attendants get most of the customers. I barely get any.”

Barry grinned. “Well, you got us. Don’t worry, I’ll tip you before we go.”

Her smile widened. “That’s very kind of you, sir. Thank you.”

As she scanned their items, Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was stunning—soft brown eyes, glossy lips, skin that seemed to glow naturally. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Jane didn’t come close. Something about Mira’s presence radiated grace and calm—the kind of peace he’d been missing.

Just then, laughter erupted beside them.

Michael turned, and there he was—Mikel, surrounded by the three “baddies” who had mistaken him for the hero of the Charger incident. He was loud, obnoxious, and clearly basking in his newfound fame.

Barry groaned. “Not this clown again.”

Mikel strutted toward them, his designer sneakers squeaking against the floor. “Well, well, well,” he said, grinning smugly. “If it isn’t the trio of losers. Didn’t see me here to greet me?”

Barry squinted. “What did you just say?”

Mikel laughed, quoting Barry’s exact words from earlier at Neon Wears when Barry was on his knees, begging Charger for mercy. “‘Please, sir, don’t hit us! We didn’t mean it!’” he mocked, mimicking Barry’s voice. The baddies burst into laughter.

Michael’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Unknown to them, Mikel had gone to the restroom earlier, pulled up Charger’s livestream, and watched the full recording. He saw everything—the fight, the chaos, the punch, the kick that sent men flying. He immediately realized it couldn’t have been this Michael—and like everyone else online, he didn’t know who actually destroyed Charger. But since everyone online believed he was the mysterious hero, he decided to own the lie. Fame had never felt this good.

Jace stepped forward. “You’re pathetic, man. You know you didn’t do anything, yet you’re walking around like you’re a hero?”

The baddies gasped. “How dare you talk to the school’s Bruce Lee like that?” one snapped. “Do you want him to knock your teeth out like he did Charger?”

Jessy, overhearing, laughed loudly. “Please! Broke boys and lies go hand in hand. Always desperate for attention.”

The crowd nearby joined in, laughing.

Barry couldn’t take it anymore. “For the record, Michael here,”—he pointed to his friend—“is the one who beat Charger and his men. Not that fake standing there!”

The laughter grew louder. Mikel smirked. “Him?” He pointed at Michael mockingly. “You expect anyone to believe he can fight? He looks like he skipped breakfast for a week straight!”

The baddies chuckled cruelly. “Maybe he’s strong… emotionally,” one teased.

Jace stepped closer, glaring. “You wanna find out?”

“Oh, I definitely wanna find out,” Mikel said, stepping right up to Michael’s face. “Come on, hero. Show everyone what you can do. Throw a punch. Prove it.”

Cameras were already up. Phones pointed from every angle. Livestreams had begun. Hashtags were flying in comment sections.

Mikel poked Michael’s chest again and again. “C’mon, champ. Hit me. Be the man you think you are.”

Mikel was certain it couldn’t be Michael who had destroyed Charger and his men since he himself had once bullied Michael just as Charger bullied him too, and Michael couldn’t do anything about it. It would be ironic for Michael who he once bullied to be the hero who destroyed Charger. 

Barry and Jace were already shouting, “Do it, Michael! Knock his teeth out like Charger’s!”

Mira, who had been quietly watching the chaos unfold, suddenly spoke up. Her voice was calm, clear—and oddly familiar.

“The best fighter,” she said softly, “is the one who never has to fight—because he controls the situation.”

Michael froze.

Those words… he knew them. They were the same words his master had told him ten years ago during training.

“Michael,” his master’s voice echoed in his mind, “patience and restraint are at the heart of a warrior’s success. He who conquers himself is the mightiest warrior. He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.”

The memory washed over him like a cold wave. His heartbeat slowed. His anger began to fade. He unclenched his fists and exhaled deeply, eyes closed.

Then he opened them—and saw Mikel’s mocking face inches from his.

It was the same kind of face his master used to draw on pumpkins for training—exaggerated, round, and… punchable.

Michael chuckled softly and muttered under his breath, “Sorry, Master… his face—not my fault.”

Then—

BAM!

The punch came like lightning. Mikel’s head snapped back, and his body lifted off the floor, spinning midair before crashing several feet away. Teeth scattered like white confetti across the marble tiles.

The crowd gasped. Phones trembled in hands. Silence fell over the entire store.

Mikel lay flat on his back, eyes wide, mouth bleeding, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Jessy’s jaw dropped. The baddies screamed. Barry and Jace exchanged stunned looks before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

Michael stood calmly, his fist still halfway raised, a faint smirk on his lips.

“Guess I just failed the patience test,” he said quietly.

The crowd erupted in whispers and shock as Mikel groaned on the floor, bleeding and toothless.