Clayton's POV
Clayton was beaten and shoved out of the hotel's back door by two hefty men who had taken it upon themselves to make him pay for his mess at Billy's party.
Not only was he fired from his job, but his full month's pay was also taken. Though he was upset that his wages had been taken to cover the mess he made, at least they had not told him to pay for Billy's sneakers.
He couldn't afford that, even if he saved for five years.
He had to pay the price for something he had not done. If Clayton could remember correctly, Billy had intentionally let the glass fall from his fingers, knowing that Clayton would try to catch it and lose his grip on the wine bottle.
Kathy's presence had convinced Clayton that the jerk; Billy, had set him up, and no one believed him when he attempted to defend himself.
As he tried to rise from the ground, a great pain coursed through his body, and he noticed the bruises on his hands and knees as a result of the severe treatment he had received.
"Ouch!" he winced as he stood up, despite his terrible discomfort.
The only reason he was able to leave the hotel with his body intact, despite losing his job and that month's salary, was that someone had stood up for him.
Clayton was still stunned that Beau Wilder would stand up for him. The young man had stopped him from licking Billy's sneakers and even assisted him in resolving the matter with Billy in the hotel director's office, which had infuriated Billy.
What Beau had said or done to cause Billy to storm out of the office was beyond him. Clayton was beyond lucky and was grateful.
He sighed and dusted his soiled clothes.
The sky rumbled, and he felt the first drop of rain hit his face. He shook his head, realizing that it was about to rain. He bent down and picked up his bag, which had been flung out behind him.
"I might as well get out of here before it starts raining." He mumbled, strapping his bag over his shoulders and turned to depart.
The back door abruptly opened, and his kitchen manager emerged with a severe scowl on his face.
The man scoffed, "You only had one job, West. And you fucked it up," he said, throwing Clayton's phone at him.
Clayton quickly caught the gadget, preventing it from plummeting to the floor; at the very least, he was able to retrieve his phone. He turned on the phone and looked at the manager.
"I'm sorry, sir, it wasn't..." Clayton attempted to apologize, but the manager stopped him.
The manager opened his lips to respond, but was interrupted by a mechanical voice that spoke from Clayton's phone, which shocked them.
[SYSTEM ACTIVATION: 10%>>30%>>80%>>100%]
[BLUE JOHN'S VIGILANTE JUSTICE SYSTEM HAS SUCCESSFULLY BEEN ACTIVATED]
[A TRIAL TASK WILL BE ASSIGNED SOON]
Clayton blinked, wondering what had just happened as he stared at his phone. A system had been activated in his phone? Was that fucking possible? He thought with a scoff.
The manager narrowed his eyes in confusion, staring at Clayton's phone. He inhaled deeply, "I don't know what your play here is, but get the hell out of this premises before you're arrested for real this time..." He warned before returning inside.
Clayton sighed. He had no doubt that Billy could arrest him if he remained there; Billy possessed both the power and connections.
Clayton walked away after glancing around and taking one last look at the hotel.
He could hardly believe how chaotic things had become in just one day. If only he'd declined to deliver the meal to the penthouse. He would not have met Billy, and the events would not have occurred.
Getting to the train station took longer than required because it was rush hour and everyone was rushing back to their houses before the rain began in earnest.
Clayton finally made his way through a small tight opening into the overcrowded train. He was fortunate enough to find an empty seat in the busy area and sat on it before anyone else did; he wondered why no one had sat on it sooner.
He took a deep breath, plugging his ear bud to his ear and closed his eyes as the train began to move. It would take at least thirty minutes to reach the lowest level, or slums, where the lower class lived.
That gave him ample time to rest, gather his thoughts and come up with a solution to his current predicament.
The fact that he had lost his job with no income for that month was enough to keep his mother and their debtors anxious.
[ BLUE JOHN, YOUR TRIAL TASK HAS BEEN ASSIGNED]
A mechanical voice from his phone sounded in his ear bud, shocking him and interrupting his thoughts.
[ YOUR MISSION IS TO NEUTRALIZE THE TRAIN'S BULLY TERRORIZING PASSENGERS. PRIORITIZE SAFETY, REMAIN FIRM AND CALM]
[ EXECUTE YOUR MISSION]
Clayton was still processing the information when someone cleared their throat above him.
"You're sitting in my seat, get the fuck up!" the stranger snarled.
He opened his eyes and looked up, observing an older, hefty man looking at him. He caught the terrified glances of many nearby who wanted to flee and didn't need to be told that the man was a nuisance.
That was the reason why no one had sat on the seat earlier, he reasoned. Was the man the train bully? He thought.
Clayton's eyes furrowed at the man. "I didn't see your name on the seat when I sat down, so fuck off." He fired back.
He was already furious and upset over what had occurred to him that day, and he didn't need any more trouble from anyone—he had just fucking lost his job.
"Ain't no need fer me t' carve m' name in that seat—ever'body 'round here knows that's mine. Been sittin' there since before you learned t' walk," the man drawled, his voice loud enough to be heard in other compartments.
One thing was common: everyone inside the train belonged to the lower classes. Though because the man was huge, he constantly bullied and picked on other lower class citizens.
Clayton scoffed, he wasn't going to be bullied out of his seat by a fellow lower class. Being bullied by an upper class was different.
It was one thing to be bullied by the upper class; they had the resources and position to put lower-class people in place. However, being bullied by a fellow lower-class was a struggle for survival.
Clayton snorted, sliding his hands into his sweatshirt and staring at the man without breaking eye contact. "Apparently, not everyone knows, because I don't. Perhaps you should stroll silently down the aisle. I don't want to pick fights with anyone," he said.
Where that level of boldness and confidence had come from shocked him, as he would ordinarily have cowered in the corner or stood up right away.
He could sense the tension in the air as the man smirked. "Ya li'l piece of cow shit!" The bully cursed in a loud voice, forcefully grasping for Clayton's collar.
Clayton had no time to react as the bully grabbed his collar and dragged him up from his seat.
He responded quickly, slapping the man's hand and shoving him away, as if he had been overpowered by a great force.
The man roared and charged at Clayton without hesitation, swinging a punch at him, but Clayton stopped him by grabbing the man's fist in a tight grasp, startling everyone, even himself.
With a burst of power, Clayton expertly flipped the heavy man over his shoulders.
He blinked his eyes, panting in surprise, then turned abruptly to face the man groaning in pain on the floor, grasping his left side.
He could see the man's shocked expression. The bully had not expected Clayton to be able to fight him or even execute that move.
With the fight decisively in Clayton's favor, he stood tall over his defeated opponent, snarling angrily at him. "Get the fuck out of my sight!"
The man sighed and stumbled to his feet, muttering curses beneath his breath as he hurried down the train compartment.
Initially, the train was silent as everyone stared at him in disbelief. Clayton blinked, staring at his hands and wondering what the hell had just happened.
He could not believe he had just fought someone twice his size. He looked up when someone clapped their hands, followed by another, and everyone was clapping for him in a matter of seconds.
Clayton's chest welled up with pride, temporarily distracting him from his current situation of unemployment and financial hardship.
[ CONGRATULATIONS BLUE JOHN, YOUR TRIAL TASK HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED]
The message sounded in his ear bud. That was the train bully trial task? He thought in shock as the train came to a stop, and the door opened, indicating that they had arrived at the final station.
The crowd cleared the way for him to pass through. He smiled as he grabbed his bag and exited the train.
He was still buzzing with excitement from defeating a bully; something he should have done to Billy, he reflected, as his phone beeped.
He sighed and removed it from his pocket. When he opened his phone's screen lock, a gift box appeared on the screen.
Clayton's face was furrowed with a deep frown as he peered at the box on his screen, confused. He tapped the gift box, and a message appeared.
"What the fuck!" Clayton stuttered when he read the message and nearly dropped his phone.
Who the fuck was this Blue John, and why did this message appear on his phone? He wondered since that account balance could not possibly be his.
The system had been referring to him as Blue John, does it mean that? He paused, shaking his head in disbelief.
"This is a fucking scam, right?!" he mumbled to himself, looking about in confusion, incase someone was playing a trick on him. He wouldn't be surprised if Billy was pulling one on him.
He scoffed as he looked at his phone and read the message for the second time.
[Account Holder: BLUE JOHN]
[Status: TASK COMPLETED]
[ CONGRATULATIONS BLUE JOHN, ON SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETING YOUR FIRST MISSION. YOUR ACCOUNT, xxxxx7890 HAS BEEN CREDITED WITH $1,000,000]
He blinked once, and twice.
Someone had better wake him up, Clayton reasoned. Because he had to be fucking dreaming.