The Greatest Showman#1382 - heroism
Renly's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, as he clenched his fists and surged forward with unstoppable momentum, throwing himself into the chaos.
The four gangsters hesitated, startled by his sudden charge. Instinctively, they recoiled, their momentary retreat buying Renly just enough time. He skidded to a halt beside the victim, wrapped his arms around the young man's shoulders, and yanked him backward—out of the circle of danger.
"Protect him!" Renly barked over his shoulder.
Rooney had been sitting in the taxi, oblivious at first. When Renly's tone shifted, she thought he was joking. But then he was out of the car, running—yelling. Everything happened in a blur. Without hesitation, she threw open the door, lifted her gown, and chased after him on trembling heels.
By the time she arrived, Renly had already pulled the victim to safety. His next move was clear—he launched himself back into the fray.
Rooney didn't think—she simply acted. She stepped in front of the young man, shielding him. Her eyes swept the scene. Four of them. Only Renly and the taxi driver on their side. The odds were unfavorable.
Her fingers tightened around her phone as she dialed 911. The operator picked up instantly. "We need police at—"
A shadow moved in her peripheral vision.
Without missing a beat, Rooney shifted her stance, raising her free hand in a poised karate guard—the kind she'd learned while filming The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Her eyes sharpened, and a fierce energy crackled in the air. She took a step forward, challenging the figure who had been sneaking closer.
He hesitated. Rooney's unwavering stance—fearless and steady—made him falter.
Meanwhile, Kianush didn't think—he simply followed Renly's lead, sprinting forward to help, hoping to even the odds.
But the gangsters recovered quickly. Realizing their advantage in numbers, they regrouped and attacked from all sides.
Kianush lunged at the closest thug, slamming into him with brute force. The impact sent them both sprawling. Dazed, he caught a glimpse of Renly—soaring through the air in a powerful flying kick.
Was that—?
Yes. It was Renly.
Kianush barely had time to register his disbelief before he was grappling with the thug on the ground.
Renly, meanwhile, had no intention of engaging in a prolonged fight—only to disrupt their balance. The moment his feet touched the pavement again, he twisted, using his momentum to take out another attacker. A sharp kick to the knee, a shoulder slam—within seconds, three of the four were already reeling.
Then Renly spotted the fourth thug—aiming for Rooney.
He braced himself to intervene—but he didn't need to.
Rooney held her ground, eyes locked on her opponent, her presence exuding unshakable confidence. The thug hesitated, unnerved.
Compared to facing off against Vin Diesel in an action movie, these street-level punks were hardly a challenge.
Paper tigers.
They preyed on the vulnerable, cowering when faced with real resistance.
Renly's voice cut through the chaos. "Mr. Driver, are you alright?"
Kianush, still on the ground, shook his head to clear the daze. "I'm—I'm fine. Yeah. Fine."
Renly didn't let up. He raised his voice, fists still clenched. "Alright then—let's finish this. Subdue them and wait for the police! This is Manhattan! It's only eight o'clock! Are you all insane?!"
His words weren't just for the attackers—they were for the bystanders, a call to action.
And it worked.
People who had been watching hesitantly now found their courage. The energy shifted. Pedestrians—workers, tourists, everyday New Yorkers—moved forward, closing in on the gang.
Sensing the change, the gangsters panicked. Fear overtook them. They bolted, shoving through the growing crowd in their desperation to escape.
No one gave chase. Instead, the street erupted into applause, a celebration of justice, of defiance against the night's shadows.
Renly turned toward the victim—only to catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the gangsters, unnoticed in the commotion, was sneaking back—to steal the deliveryman's bike.
"Are you kidding me?" Renly scoffed.
Without hesitation, he sprinted forward.
The thief, caught in the act, froze—then fled in terror.
Renly shook his head, breathless with disbelief, before setting the bike upright. A couple of pedestrians rushed in to help, retrieving the deliveryman's fallen bag and securing it against a wall.
Finally, Renly crouched beside the young man. "Are you hurt?"
The deliveryman—a teenager, barely past high school—was visibly shaken. He nodded, but his trembling hands betrayed his fear.
Renly sighed. Even here, in Manhattan, in a bustling street and not some dark alleyway, the shadows of violence still loomed. Fear crept in where it didn't belong.
Without a word, Renly leaned in and wrapped the young man in an embrace.
He wasn't the type to offer hugs. But in that moment, it was the only thing that felt right.
A real, human connection—warmth in the cold night.
A steady hand patted his back. "It's okay. It's over. You're safe."
The deliveryman stiffened at first, then sagged against him. "I'm fine," he mumbled. "It's okay."
But the quiver in his voice gave him away.
"No," Renly said firmly. "This wasn't your fault. You don't owe anyone an apology for being attacked. They are the ones who should be ashamed. Not you."
The young man swallowed hard. He had almost convinced himself that he was to blame—that maybe he should've been more careful, maybe he should've just handed over his money.
But maybe… maybe Renly was right.
His eyes burned, his throat tightened. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the emotions surging inside him. But once they started, they wouldn't stop. He ducked his head, trying to hide his tears, clenching his fists against the raw vulnerability clawing at his chest.
And then—release. A shuddering breath.
He let go.
Renly didn't push. Didn't pry. He simply remained—a steady, silent presence.
Finally looking up, Renly met Rooney's gaze.
She was crouched nearby, watching with quiet concern.
Her black gown was hiked up awkwardly, her updo had unraveled, stray locks framing her face. A pair of high heels dangled from her hand as her bare feet pressed against the pavement. She looked utterly disheveled.
And yet, she hadn't noticed. She was only focused on the young man.
Realizing Renly was watching her, she met his gaze—and smiled.
A simple, small smile.
A shared moment of understanding, in the aftermath of chaos.
And for now, that was enough.