The Collector's Call

The neon sign flickered, casting an eerie glow on the rain-slicked streets of Little Italy. Tony "The Ghost" Marino pulled his collar up against the chill and pushed open the door to Sal's Bar. The usual Friday night crowd fell silent as he entered.

Sal, the bartender, nodded nervously. "Evening, Mr. Marino. The usual?"

"Not tonight, Sal," Tony replied, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "Where's Vinnie?"

A burly man at the end of the bar stood up, towering over Tony's average frame. "I'm Vinnie. What's it to you, little man?"

Tony's lips curved into a faint smile. "Your boss owes mine some money. I'm here to collect."

Laughter erupted around the bar. Vinnie grinned, revealing gold-capped teeth. "Boys, show this joker the door."

Two heavyset men approached Tony, cracking their knuckles. The first threw a punch that would have floored most men. But Tony wasn't most men.

He sidestepped the blow with impossible speed, grabbing the man's wrist and flipping him over the bar in one fluid motion. The second attacker's eyes widened in shock.

"What the hell are you?" he gasped.

Tony's eyes glinted. "They call me The Ghost for a reason."

What followed was a blur of motion. Bodies flew across the room, tables splintered, and bottles shattered. Through it all, Tony moved with inhuman grace and power, untouched by the chaos around him.

When the dust settled, Vinnie found himself pinned against the wall, feet dangling above the floor, held up by Tony's seemingly ordinary hand.

"The... the money's in the safe," Vinnie choked out. "Behind the painting."

Tony lowered him gently. "Thank you for your cooperation."

As he walked to the hidden safe, the room watched in stunned silence. Tony placed his hand on the steel door, closed his eyes for a moment, and pulled. With a groan of protesting metal, the safe opened.

Collecting the cash, Tony turned to leave. He paused at the door, looking back at the devastated bar and its shell-shocked occupants.

"Gentlemen," he said with a nod, "have a pleasant evening."

The door closed behind him, leaving only whispers and the growing legend of The Ghost in his wake.