Nico ran toward the sound before he could stop himself.
His heart raced as he moved. His mind stayed calm.
The street bent at the corner, and the jewelry shop sat there. Two stories tall. Old stone.
The store's windows were blown out. Glass scattered across the pavement like frozen rain.
Fortunately, most people were already gone.
Some had fled outright, disappearing down side streets. Others pressed themselves into doorways, crouched behind parked cars, hiding behind the thin illusion of safety that metal and brick could offer.
Nico slowed and dropped behind a sedan parked crookedly near the curb.
From there, he saw everything.
Two men were inside the shop. Masks. Heavy guns. One shoved trays into a bag, hands fast and practiced. The other moved with his weapon raised.
Outside, a third stood guard.
The barrel of his gun stayed high, angled toward the street. He barked something sharp and clipped. Nico didn't catch every word, but the sound was familiar.
French.
His stomach tightened.
Nico stayed still, crouched low, breathing through his nose. The car smelled of oil and cold metal. His pulse thudded in his ears.
His mind stayed clear.
Minutes passed. No police.
The men inside were almost done. The bags looked heavy now. The guard outside shifted his stance and turned his head slightly.
"What am I doing?" Nico thought.
He was nobody. Nineteen. No degree. No authority. No reason to be here.
He had already lost the morning. Lost the job. Lost another chance to pretend his life was moving forward.
This wasn't his place.
And yet, he stayed.
The answer settled without drama.
Curiosity.
A movement above caught his eye.
Nico tilted his head just enough to see the roofline.
A shadow stood there.
Broad shoulders. Tall. Still. Something clenched in one hand.
Nico's breath stalled.
The guard below shifted again.
Then it happened.
Something fell.
The sound was thick and final. A heavy thud that made the pavement seem to flinch.
The guard dropped without a word.
A shattered vase lay beside him. Flowers sprawled. Water bleeding into the cracks of the street.
Silence snapped tight.
Inside the shop, everything stopped.
One of the robbers gestured sharply at the other. A quick exchange. The second man moved toward the door, gun raised, careful.
As he stepped outside. Another impact.
Another vase. Another body.
Glass tinkled somewhere. Someone inside gasped.
The third man froze.
Inside the shop, his voice exploded. Sharp. Panicked. Nico couldn't make out the words, but the meaning was clear.
Chaos.
A young woman was dragged forward from behind the counter. She couldn't have been much older than Nico. Her hands shook as the man locked an arm around her chest and pressed a knife to her throat.
"DON'T MOVE!" the robber shouted in English now, wild-eyed. "THIS WOMAN DIES."
The words hit Nico's chest with weight.
He looked up again.
The rooftop was empty.
The silhouette was gone.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Not close. Close enough to matter.
The robber cursed, tightened his grip on the woman, and dragged her outside. The knife stayed at her neck as he backed away, eyes darting everywhere at once.
He turned and pulled her toward the narrow alley between the jeweler and the adjacent shop.
Nico's body moved before his thoughts could settle.
He followed.
Every step felt wrong. Every instinct warned him to stop.
His heart ignored it.
He slipped into the alley after them, the sounds of the street fading behind him.
***
Two silhouettes moved through the shaded alley.
One was a man in a mask. His arm was locked around someone. Tight. Controlling.
A young woman. No more than twenty. Blond hair dulled to white by the shadows. Petite frame, dragged forward without choice. A knife rested at her neck.
She had been taken hostage.
Stacy had thought today would be a good day.
Not perfect. Just good. The kind that didn't demand much in return.
That thought felt stupid now.
She was a Russian student studying in Berlin. Working part-time to cover expenses her parents would never approve of. Fashion was considered indulgent. Jewelry work was acceptable. That was the compromise.
The shop had felt safe. Only till today.
'Why is this happening to me?' she cried silently.
She stumbled as the man dragged her deeper into the alley, his arm crushing her shoulders, the knife cold and unyielding against her skin.
"Please," she sobbed. "Sir, please let me go. I don't have anything. I swear. I don't have anything to give you."
Her voice cracked. Tears blurred the ground beneath her feet.
The man didn't slow.
"Shut up," he barked, breath hot against her ear. "One more word and you'll see your body from a different angle."
Her legs trembled.
'This is it,' she thought. 'This is my last day.'
She squeezed her eyes shut as they moved.
'God, please,' she prayed. Inside. 'If this is it, let me go to heaven.'
She cried harder.
Then they stopped.
Someone stood at the far end of the alley.
A silhouette. Tall. Still.
The man's face was swallowed by shadow, but his suit caught the dim light. Black. Clean lines. A glossy black homburg hat sat low on his head, unmoving.
The robber froze.
"MOVE," he shouted, panic bleeding into his voice. "MOVE OR THIS WOMAN DIES."
Stacy's heart hammered.
'Please move,' she begged inside her head. 'Please just move. I don't want to die.'
Her thoughts scattered, absurd and desperate.
'I still wanted to have my own apartment. I still wanted to fall in love.'
She sobbed again.
The knife pressed harder.
A thin line of blood slid down her neck, warm, staining the front of her top.
Her breath hitched.
'Shit,' she thought dimly. 'This top was expensive. I bought it yesterday.'
The man at the end of the alley spoke.
His voice was calm. Low. Heavy enough to fill the space without rising.
"What did the rooster say?"
The robber blinked.
Then laughed, sharp and confused.
"What?" he scoffed.
The man didn't answer.
He smiled.
Footsteps echoed behind them.
The robber twisted his head, just in time to see another figure approaching from the alley entrance. Younger. Pale.
He stopped a few meters away.
The robber yanked her closer, slamming his back against the wall.
"You think you're clever?" he shouted. "Now there are two of you."
Stacy cried out.
"Please," she begged. "Please help me. I want to live."
The man in the suit spoke again, unhurried.
"It's alright, little miss," he said. "You will live."
Then his gaze lifted slightly. His face remained hidden.
"And as for your count," he added, almost gently, "you poor soul… we are not two."
He smiled.
"We are one."
The younger man didn't speak.
But he understood.
The sirens were closer now. Louder. Still distant enough to feel unreal.
***
As Nico stepped into the alley, his thoughts caught up with him.
'I'm insane for doing this.'
His steps were slow, careful, each one placed as if the ground itself might object. The walls closed in as he moved forward, brick damp with cold, the smell of dust and old rain clinging to the air. With every step, the street behind him fell quieter, thinner.
His mind urged him to turn back.
His body kept going.
"To hell with this…"
A cry cut through the narrow space. Sharp. Human.
Then shouting. A voice raw with panic.
"MOVE OR THIS WOMAN DIES."
Sirens wailed somewhere beyond the buildings, fading and swelling as if unsure which way to go. Nico's breath shortened. His chest tightened, not from fear, but from speed, from effort.
The world narrowed.
Sirens.
He kept walking.
Shadows swallowed him. Only the outline of his face remained, pale against the dark. His expression was fixed. A scowl, or maybe a smile. It was hard to tell.
Seconds stretched. Then longer. The alley felt endless.
Then he heard it.
A man's voice. Calm. Heavy.
"What did the rooster say?"
Nico slowed.
'A rooster?'
A sharp laugh followed. Nervous. Uncertain.
"What?" the robber scoffed.
Shapes emerged from the dark. His vision adjusted to the heavy shade.
People.
Too close now. Close enough to see color. To see form.
The robber.
The hostage.
And someone else.
The man from the rooftop.
As Nico stepped fully into view, the robber snapped his head toward him and yanked the woman closer, slamming his back against the wall.
"You think you're clever?" he shouted. "Now there are two of you."
The man in front stood still, dressed neatly in a black suit that didn't belong in an alley like this. A glossy homburg hat shadowed his face, hiding his eyes. He looked untouched by panic, by urgency, by the knife pressed to the woman's throat.
The woman.
Her white top was dark at the collar, blood seeping from a thin cut along her neck. She trembled violently, breath breaking into soft, helpless sobs. The robber held her tight, arm locked around her shoulders, knife angled just enough to promise more.
The mask hid his face, but not his eyes.
Fear lived there.
The woman cried out.
"Please," she begged. "Please help me. I want to live."
Nico's mouth went dry.
The man in the suit spoke again, unhurried.
"It's alright, little miss," he said. "You will live."
His gaze lifted slightly beneath the brim of his hat.
"And as for your count," he added, almost gently, "you poor soul… we are not two."
He smiled.
"We are one."
Something clicked inside Nico.
Recognition.
This wasn't conversation. It was signal.
Action.
His thoughts raced.
'What the hell am I supposed to do?'
He wasn't trained. He wasn't armed. He wasn't anyone. Just nineteen. Already rejected. Already late. Already behind.
And yet—
When those words left the stranger's mouth, something steadied him.
Nico spoke.
His voice was calm.
"Let the lady go," he said. "And we'll let you go."
The robber barked a laugh.
"Old tricks, boy."
The man in the suit stepped forward.
One step. Calm. Measured.
The robber hissed, tightening his grip.
"Don't," he warned. "Don't come closer. This woman will die."
The man didn't answer.
He glanced at Nico.
Nodded.
Then Nico moved too.
They stepped forward together.
The man spoke again.
"What did the rooster say?"
The robber flinched.
"Enough!" he cursed. "If you don't leave, this woman dies."
The man's voice softened. Almost kind.
"The rooster said," he replied,"Remember."
Another step.
"Realize."
The man reached into his pocket. He pulled out a yellow object.
"Repent."
The robber's breathing turned ragged. "No!"
Nico blinked.
'A banana?'
The man didn't raise his arm.
He flicked his wrist.
The banana flew.
Not hard. Not dramatic. Precise.
It struck the knife with a wet, humiliating thud. The blade spun from the robber's hand, clattering uselessly against the pavement.
Everything happened at once.
The man surged forward with terrifying speed, tearing the woman free and throwing her toward Nico.
"Catch."
She collided with his chest. Nico wrapped his arms around her instinctively, stumbling back as she clutched at him, shaking.
A punch landed.
Clean. Brutal.
The robber collapsed like a string cut loose.
Silence followed.
Then the sirens rushed back in, louder now, undeniable.
Nico stood frozen, holding a stranger whose life had almost ended. His mind struggled to catch up with what his eyes had seen.
It had been fast.
Too fast.
And somehow… ridiculous.
The man stood a few steps away, adjusting his black suit. His face stayed hidden beneath the brim of his hat.
But Nico knew.
This man was something else.
Nico's gaze stayed on the stranger.
Questions stacked in his head, loud and unresolved.
The rooster.
The banana.
'What the hell is wrong with this day?'