Handle It Yourself. Don't Kill Him.
"Handle it yourself. Don't kill him."
The scorpion gangster, locking eyes with me, bared his teeth and growled. "You the convenience store manager?"
Hmm. Been a while since I dealt with a gangster troublemaker.
Back in the early days when I first opened the old convenience store, gangsters used to swarm the place. Demanding protection money, telling me to shut down shop—they pulled all sorts of ridiculous stunts to mess with my business. It only stopped after I tracked down their back-alley headquarters and had a nice, peaceful(?) chat telling them to cut it out.
Empire's underworld was full of real men back then—guys who didn't just talk the talk but walked the walk. There was a certain romance to it. Of course, all those romantic(?) thugs got cleaned up on Crown Prince Astur's orders. To put it kindly, it was a romantic era. To be blunt, it was a barbaric one.
I figured all the gangster troublemakers were long gone.
Scorpion gang, huh? Their boss got taken out a year and a half ago, so I thought they were wiped out. Guess some remnants hung on.
"Yeah, I'm the manager. What can I do for you?"
The guy rolled his shoulders at my question. "Hah, you the one who humiliated my boys?"
His boys? Who the hell were they? Right then, I spotted the little punk glued to his back like a leech—the ringleader of those underage kids who'd tried buying booze earlier, the one who'd knelt and raised his hands.
"What? You didn't learn your lesson after that spanking?"
"W-what lesson? You made me kneel like an idiot and humiliated me! Underage kids can buy booze too!"
Looked like this cocky brat needed some more reflection time. I glanced at him briefly, then back at the scorpion gangster the alley boss had brought along. Scorpion tattoo under his eye, scars all over his face and thick arms. He screamed "I've eaten my share of steel."
"This kid here's a promising recruit for our Scorpions, so I can't just let him get dissed."
"Just head out. No good'll come from starting trouble."
"Can't do that. Apologize to the kid."
"Not happening. It's standard policy not to sell booze to minors in a convenience store."
"This fucker..." The scorpion bared his teeth and spat curses.
"What the hell did you just say to our boss?"
Robinson, who'd been listening quietly, glared and stepped forward.
"And who the fuck are you, you pretty-boy parasite?"
Aah. Disappointing that a back-alley thug doesn't know Robinson.
This rare gangster throwback was a total newbie who didn't even recognize Robinson. Makes sense—the old-timers who knew him were either dead or steered clear of the store.
"Tch. Robinson, he says he doesn't know you."
"Guess they're all dead now, boss. Back in the day, just hearing 'Oscar's Robinson' made 'em freeze."
Robinson sighed heavily, and the scorpion's face twisted.
"R-Robinson?"
"Doesn't ring a bell, huh?"
The scorpion took a step back upon hearing the name. He'd pieced it together.
"You're supposed to be that Robinson? Bullshit. I heard Robinson got purged and chased outta town."
"That baseless rumor still floating around?"
Robinson's brow furrowed. Oh, that hit his pride. But he was holding back—no fists flying yet.
"Handle it. Don't kill him. It'll tank the store's property value."
"Got it, boss."
He'd always guarded his pride fiercely. Even against stronger foes, touch his reverse scale and he'd fight without looking back. We'd thrown down hard once because of it.
What was it I said? 'You got a white hair?' Yeah. Spotted a single white strand in his blond mop by chance. He lost it, swung at me, and boom—instant little brother.
The guy was proud of his looks above all else. Touch that, and you're dead meat.
-I'll serve you as boss! Take me in!
I'd brushed him off with a casual "handle it yourself," and that's how we ended up here. Thought about hiring him on the spot but nixed it. Ah, memories.
Soon after, he wrapped up back-alley business and headed to the lake. Lost in those thoughts, nostalgia hit—stirring up shit with empire thugs in the good old days.
But the nostalgia train derailed fast.
"Guhk!" Thud!
The scorpion doubled over from Robinson's gut punch, coughing as he hit the floor.
"What, already done?"
"Yep, boss."
"Grrgh..."
One hit. The charging scorpion took a lightning-fast strike to the solar plexus—too quick for the eye.
"B-Boss?"
The kid leader stared in shock at his fallen promising thug. Seeing his active "big bro" go down like that must've been a rude awakening.
"Grrgh... You fucker..."
The scorpion glared at Robinson with bloodshot eyes. Even at full power from the start, he wouldn't have touched a hair on Robinson's head.
"I won't let this slide, you dog..."
Staggering up, he pulled a knife from his pocket, eyes blazing.
"That's far enough."
I fixed my gaze on him. Fistfights? Fine, whatever. But drawing a blade in my sacred convenience store? No way in hell.
The scorpion's hand shook violently as he drew the knife aimed at Robinson.
"Move one more step with that, and I'll make you beg for death. Put it away."
Our eyes met, and his jaw clenched involuntarily, teeth grinding. Yellow liquid pooled at his feet.
"Ah."
Too much force. Everyone else looked confused at his expression—except one. Robinson.
"Ah."
He bit his lip, realizing my slip, and slapped his forehead.
Then the scorpion collapsed, rubbing his hands frantically on the floor.
"S-sorry! Sorry! I won't ever do it again. No more knives. Sorry!"
He groveled in his own piss.
"Good, you're snapped out of it. Clean that up and get lost."
"Sorry! Sorry!"
I handed him a mop, and he chanted apologies while scrubbing away the stench until every trace was gone.
The kid wouldn't get it—why his big bro was like that. But he felt it in his bones: even this guy was untouchable.
"Hey, kid."
"Y-yes?!"
"Take this sign and stand out front."
I shoved him a placard reading 'No booze or smokes to anyone born after 2004.'
"Go outside and advertise loud and clear: our store doesn't sell to minors."
He hesitated, clearly hating it.
"Wanna end up like your bro?"
I pointed at the piss-soaked scorpion. He shook his head desperately.
"Get out there and shout."
"O-okay!"
Outside, the kid raised the sign high. "W-we don't sell booze or smokes to minors!"
Good kid. Robinson bowed to me, watching.
"Sorry, boss. Should've handled it myself..."
"You did great. Couldn't even see it coming."
"Still miles behind you, boss."
"Anyway, thanks to you, it wrapped up easy."
Would've been bad if I'd stepped in and rumors spread about the "violent convenience store manager." Gotta keep a good image for the customers.
"If you'd jumped in, that guy'd be six feet under already, right?"
"Nah... probably not?"
Not confident. Been ages since I scrapped with someone that weak.
"Hey."
"Y-yes? Yes?"
I eyed the scorpion, who'd mopped spotless.
"You really with the Scorpions?"
"Y-yeah."
"Thought their boss died years ago and they got wiped out."
"Well, their old right-hand man restarted it. I joined up."
"Huh."
Who was the right-hand? Fuzzy memory.
"If it's who I think, I know the guy."
"Yeah?"
"Met him once on business."
"Check it out. Don't want them storming in for revenge—headache waiting to happen."
"Got it."
"N-no plans for that!"
The scorpion waved frantically, but we ignored him. Couldn't overlook a new outfit in my turf.
"By the way, scorpion."
"Yeah?"
"What's your rank there?"
"B-bottom rung. Scout kids..."
Bottom rung? Looked like a full-on enforcer. Don't judge a book by its cover, I guess.
But it implied the new Scorpions might be bigger than expected.
"I'll report back once I check."
"Don't come yourself—have the newbie relay. You're busy with lake stuff."
"Roger."
The skinhead newbie, who'd seen it all, shouted energetically.
"Looking forward to working with you, boss!"
"Call me manager."
"Got it, manager!"
His bald head gleamed under the fluorescent lights as he bowed.
"Alright, all you rough-looking customers, out. Scares away the real shoppers."
"Yes, boss. Hey, Scorpion—you're with me. Hand over the knife."
Robinson snatched his weapons and dragged him off with the skinhead.
"You too, kid."
"Huh?"
"Follow them. Keep advertising with that sign to your crew from now on."
"O-okay!"
He bolted.
Ah, finally quiet.
"New gang popping up, huh."
While I was focused elsewhere, the underworld was shifting again. Can't have that.
If the new groups are small, manage 'em as-is. If they get too big...
Smash 'em flat.