He took a breath, cracked his neck, and leisurely walked toward the alley.
As he got closer, the sound of struggling got clearer, grunts, shouts, a few glass bottles smashing against the walls.
When he turned the corner, he saw three guys ganging up on a single kid, who looked like a teenager, maybe sixteen at best, curled up on the ground trying to protect a small bag clutched to his chest.
It was a classic back on his world.
"Yo," Michael called out, hands in his pockets. "Is this one of those 'beat up the orphan for fun' type of things, or are we pretending he owes you money?"
The three thugs turned to face him. One of them even had the nerve to sneer.
"Fuck off. This doesn't concern you."
Michael raised a brow. "See, now I gotta intervene just on principle. You messed up your one-liner."
Another bigger guy, with a scar running down his face, stepped forward and cracked his knuckles. "You looking to get hurt?"
Michael smiled, and then let out a chuckle.
