MCU: No Limits

Johnny didn't know what his most recent passenger did for a living, but he didn't want to ask. He has been a taxi driver long enough to know that he shouldn't ask unnecessary questions to certain people. The last time he did that, his car was riddled with bullets larger than his teeth, and a menacing Doberman destroyed his seat.

Briefly glancing at the rearview mirror, Johnny focused his gaze on the road and continued in silence, his hands trembling with nervousness, but his curiosity did not wane.

The man was tall, perhaps 1.85 meters in height. This was impressive, considering that the average height for Japanese men is 1 meter and 71 centimeters.

His passenger had been silent since he got in, looking at the outside environment through the window with an expression of apparent indifference and wearing impeccable, expensive-looking clothes that were fitted to his body and appeared to be custom-made.

The man had a youthful appearance and a heart-shaped face, with two round eyes that were slightly upturned with black pupils, short eyelashes, and a short nose. His hair was blonde and slightly wavy, slicked back with a layer of gel, giving him a charming appearance. His clothes were a blazer draped over his shoulders, a dress shirt, dress pants, and oxford shoes, all black - except for the shirt, which was made of dark blue fabric. The man had some accessories, such as the two bracelets on his left wrist, the gold and silver chains around his neck, the nitrile gloves that protected his hands, and the shiny gold rings on the thumb and pinky finger of his left hand - which was holding an extinguished cigarette between his fingers.

This man didn't say a word other than mumble briefly before getting into the taxi, and Johnny was starting to think that this guy either didn't speak his language well or was trying to make a fool of him.

Next to this strange guy was a brown briefcase, with its contents unknown. And Johnny wasn't interested in knowing what was inside that thing that looked older than his father, a 65-year-old elderly man - but who seems to be three times that age.

Moreover, the guy had several bags full of fruit next to him, which he insisted he wouldn't put in the trunk.

His silent passenger doesn't seem to work in an office, despite his clothes and briefcase. He looked more like a guy who decided to do a cosplay that seemed more like the profane son caught between the charm of a mobster from those late-century films and the relaxed, yet dangerous and independent, air of a juvenile delinquent.

Regardless of what he thought, Johnny did not deny that this kid knew how to dress to impress. But Johnny is more nervous than impressed, and a little restless too.

However, there is still the possibility that this guy could just be a member of one of those boy bands that his eldest daughter idolizes with quite a concerning fervor. However, there was also the possibility that this young man was just another person with clothes full of personality, just like countless other people in New York.

Johnny sighed, shaking his head and gripping the steering wheel more tightly.

"It's not the time to speculate about someone else's life. Just do your job, man." He said, in a low voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny saw the guy look in his direction, apparently having heard what he said. Johnny fell silent and smiled a nervous and somewhat strange smile when the young man smiled with a mischievous grin.

Subsequently, Johnny stopped the car momentarily when the red light appeared at the traffic signal. When the light turned green, Johnny turned the steering wheel, driving his yellow car down the right street, just as his GPS instructed him to do.

However, Johnny's eyes widened in shock when he spotted a little further ahead, some men in alleys, holding some heavy weapons that were undeniably threatening.

"I'm going to stop here." The young man finally said something, looking at Johnny, who turned his neck. "How much is it?"

"Uh, it's... it's $5.00."

"Alright." Putting the extinguished cigarette in the blazer pocket and taking a wallet out of the pocket with the same hand, he opened the wallet and took out a $100 bill. "Could you go out and pick me up at 10:30? I'll wait on the same street."

Johnny's eyes widened in astonishment when he looked at the money; he didn't want to accept it. But when he looked into this guy's eyes, he saw no hint of lies or deceit. There was only seriousness.

Even though he was a bit reluctant, Johnny took the $100.00 and handed this guy $95.00 of his own money. The young man pocketed the bills with surprising speed before opening the door on the right side of the passenger seat and stepping out, walking along the cobblestone streets, holding his briefcase in one hand and the bags in the other.

"Is he... Is he a mutant?" Johnny murmured, truly frightened, seeing how this guy was carrying things that, together, are heavier than him, without breaking a sweat.

Looking more closely, Johnny was a bit startled that this guy was cordially greeting everyone who passed by him or who his vision could perceive, also being greeted with the same cordiality.

God, Johnny saw some children approach before forming an orderly line behind him, walking like a group of ducklings following their mother duck.

"I'm out of here..."

***

At 7:32 in the morning, on February 10th, a Monday a bit less cold than the previous days, a man walked through Harlem with short steps and an air of elegance, greeting everyone who passed by him and briefly chatting with some of these people with familiarity.

When he passed by some of the narrower alleys, he nodded towards the people standing there holding guns, not feeling threatened at any moment. The men nodded, some smiling and others greeting him with a short and quick "good morning," which the guy responded to with his own.

So, when the young man stopped walking, he turned his face back, seeing a group of children approaching, some a bit nervous and others smiling and waving with a childlike joy and liveliness.

"Good morning, Michael." One of the children said to him, looking a little less enthusiastic. It was a boy in a green sweatshirt who looked at the man, giving a small smile. "Is it going to open soon?"

Deciding to answer his question with actions, the aforementioned Michael opened his old suitcase, pressing the lock that opened with an audible click. The suitcase extended and unfolded until it formed a table with several drawers, utensils, and some kitchen equipment. Some of the children got excited when they saw this, their smiles widening even more.

Removing the rings from his fingers before taking off the nitrile gloves and the bracelets on his wrists, Michael went to wash his hands at a nearby sink before returning. Next, he put on a pair of thermal gloves, donned an apron, and secured his hair with a hairnet - items he took from inside a desk drawer, inside sealed plastic bags. Then, he put a disposable mask on the lower part of his face. 

Michael took a watermelon out of one of the plastic bags, placing it in the center of the table, on a rectangular tray.

Taking a serrated knife, he slowly brought the hand holding the knife closer to the watermelon.

"Here we go… Again."

The watermelon split into two equal halves.