“Good evening, gentlemen. What can I get started for you?”
Bradley looked her up and down with a dismissive smirk.
“Four rib eyes, rare. And a round of beers.”
“We only serve alcohol until 11,” Chloe said politely, her voice even.
“I can bring you sodas, coffee, or water.”

Bradley’s smile vanished.
He leaned forward, flashing his gold belt.
“Do you know who I am, sweetheart? I’m Bradley the Viper Jenkins. I just knocked out the reigning champ in 45 seconds. I want a beer.”
“I apologize, Mr. Jenkins,” Chloe replied, entirely unfazed by his proximity.
“State law. I’ll put the steaks in.”

Before Bradley could argue, Cameron turned his smartphone camera toward a young boy wiping down the adjacent table.
It was Toby, the diner’s 19-year-old busboy.
Toby was a skinny, earnest kid on the autism spectrum who idolized martial arts.
Tonight, as always, he was wearing his favorite T-shirt, a worn black cotton shirt with the kanji for traditional Okinawan karate printed on the back.

“Yo, broad, look at this,” Cameron laughed, pointing the phone at Toby.
“We got a real ninja over here.”
Bradley turned, his eyes locking onto Toby’s shirt.
A cruel, predatory grin spread across his face.
He stood up, towering over the terrified teenager.
“Hey, kid, you do karate?”

Toby froze, clutching his rag tightly.
“Y-yes, sir. Just at the community center. I’m a green belt.”
Bradley erupted into laughter, looking back at Cameron’s live-streaming phone.
“A green belt, hear that, chat? Hey, kid, traditional karate is a joke. It’s point-fighting garbage for people too scared to take a real punch. Watch this.”

Without warning, Bradley snapped his hand out, grabbing Toby by the wrist.
With a vicious, sudden twist, he wrenched the boy’s arm behind his back, locking him into a painful standing submission.
Toby cried out, dropping the wet rag, his knees buckling under the pressure.

“See?” Bradley mocked, leaning into the camera while holding the agonizing lock.
“No blocks, no katas, just real, practical violence. You call that karate you do real? It’s a dance class.”