In a market place as crowed as usual, Ray Warden struggling to keep his equilibrium and his bag in hand despite all the people bumping into him as they were deliberately trying to make him fall as the Grocery Clerk: Lewis, was putting his command of vegetables in it. Good thing for him that the over population of New York was never a problem to him and the transaction was quickly over. Lewis then went to his cash register opening it hoping to end this stupidly tricky operation.
"This will do 10$"
At this time of year, anyone, New Yorker or not, would have been outrage by such pricing, but Ray knew this wasn't really even after 7 years of depression and only an emergent recovery after so much chaos. Also, the Dust Bowl wasn't make it any easier, but he knew he could probably bark his way into paying less, he was a man of principles…or at least a greedy man of principles looking to saves a couples of dollars.
"No Way I shall pay this, you made me pay 7 buck last week I am not paying any dollar above"
"Do you tell me I'm some kind of crook Ray?»
He did not like to go in this routine with his clerks, but it had been efficient enough, he was a regular client for now more 9 years ever since he had move out of his parent apartment. Even when he had lost his jobs and was struggling he went out to his market and his definitively more out loyalty rather than better price or quality.
"I don't care you'll pay 10 buck."
"Christ! Lewis, can't you make an honest deal to an honest man"
"Yes and that's why I am not lowering for you."
"Didn't you told me that you didn't want to through this again"
"Can't you see I'm not arguing, I'm ordering you to pay like a good American citizen"
"You're lucky I don't beat the crap out of you"
"What you can't do it no more, don't tell me you finally decide to shut the fuck up!"
Lewis was definitively a witty mouth, a smart-ass than only years of experience with rude clients could have train. It was hard for Ray not to punch him and broke his jaw in as many places possible. Ironically, if he had done it Lewis would not have been able to shut his mouth, but at least the screams of pain would stop his devilish tongue of his. Maybe if he did it quickly enough he could get himself in the crowd and disappear whatever would come out of Lewis mouth would be incomprehensible to everyone, even to god himself.
He started to raise his fist in the airs, hoping to get a good swing. He was a good fist fighter, he use to train himself everyday he could at the gym. The twenties and in the early years you were living in tough tug world, with gangsters and brutes at every dark corners and Cons and crooks at every lighted one and in tough world the rule to survive is simple: Get Tougher. Some might seem this act of nearly mindless violence as brutish…well they are right.
Before he could get his knuckle rightly aligned with the clerks face. He saw two Patriotic Brigade Sweepers in their dark blues uniforms and their cold and dark aura making their presence easily noticeable miles around, therefore succeeding all theirs objectives of intimidation as they simply walked the streets. Although some would have kills, several years earlier because of the economic crash, it sounded a bit cliché but for him he always imagined people actually did crimes just to get on a crummy prison mattress, in which the adjective would be utterly beaten by the word mattress.
"Ok you won, are you happy now?"
"I get money what do you think?"
He simply sighs when he had been a cop he could have so easily break his jaw and get away with it, even more when he was a dirty one. He simply had stopped cause when he loosed his badge and went away and he went in private investigation, he had loosed all authority therefore even the more desperate thief did not even consider giving him a dime, but luckily lately the case had became more common and more frequent. The cops had became so corrupts that they had become inefficient (Something himself wouldn't have let him do the illusion of order and cleanness is very important when you're corrupt) is and even less the brigade of "Secretary" Butler was let's say "un-trusted" by the population. The old veterans of World War One became quickly thug as now pretty much any one with a bit of build up could enter the national-level organisation.
Putting his hand down in his trench pocket, he took out some money. He did not have it in his wallet in that pocket, but he always kept some "spare changes" in case he was mug with a guns, in any other case he would have beat the crap out of the guy. At least in that case the brigade would not have sent him in camps or overcrowded prisons filled with thousands of angry prisoners. After paying, he went back to his apartment building a bit careless in life like always. Even when he was a detective or struggling, he did not care for some reason for whatever could happen to him.
Suddenly, has he headed for the door, Donny Pyle drop from a seven-story building roof just in front of Ray, blood started to get out of his skull.