A group of bikers target a teenager, clueless about his true identity—and they quickly regret their mistake…

What are you doing here, kid? the burly man asked, his voice gruff and direct. Michael hesitated, his eyebrows knitting slightly in confusion. Waiting for my brother, he replied simply, his tone polite but firm.

The man smirked, exchanging a glance with his friends. This doesn’t look like your kind of place, he said, his words laced with something unspoken but pointed. Michael’s jaw tightened, though he forced himself to remain composed.

It’s a public park, he answered, meeting the man’s gaze. The biker’s smirk faded. Got a smart mouth, huh? he said, stepping closer.

The other two spread out slightly, creating a semicircle around Michael. Parents and kids were still scattered around the park, but no one seemed to notice the tension building under the oak tree. Michael scanned the area briefly, hoping someone would look his way, but the bikers had chosen their moment well.

Most of the attention was on the soccer field, where Jordan’s game was wrapping up. Michael’s mind raced. He wasn’t scared, not yet, but the situation was turning, and he could feel it.

Years of karate training had taught him to observe, anticipate, and react, but he also knew discipline. Fighting wasn’t the first option. It was the last.

Look, Michael said, keeping his tone measured. I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here for my brother.

But the burly man didn’t back off. Instead, he leaned down slightly, his face just a little too close for comfort. Trouble? Who said anything about trouble? he asked, his voice low and taunting.

Michael could feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken challenge in their posture. His hands rested loosely on his knees, but he was ready if it came to that. And yet something about the man’s next words made it clear.

They weren’t going to let him off that easily. Maybe you should show us what you’ve got, the biker sneered, his friends laughing quietly behind him. But Michael didn’t move…