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Helena opened the register and carefully counted the money.  She needed to make sure there was enough change to hold them over for the upcoming dinner-rush, but not so much that their cash register was overflowing with money.  As she checked the cash and counted the dirty coins the sun slowly began its descent.  Sunsets in California were her favorite.  She looked to the reddish-orange sunlight in the store.  An odd reflection caught her eye and she looked to the thick glass window of "Granny's Cookies."  Her heart dropped when she spotted the culprit.

A bullet-hole marked the window, causing the interesting reflection on the ground.  She frowned and traced the mark with her fingers.  It must have been a stray bullet during the night, as she never heard any impact during the day.  She was sure her grandmother, the owner of "Granny's Cookies" wouldn't like this at all.  The danger in Long Beach had been increasing significantly the past few years and it seemed there was no slowing down now.

Helena let out a soft sigh and turned back to the cash register.  The dinner rush would arrive soon.  She smiled thinking about all of the happy people coming into the store to get their sugar fix.  They always received a wide range of customers and for the most part everyone was always in a good mood.  Who could be mad when getting a cupcake?  The difficult part of the rushes was keeping track of stock and making sure everything ran smoothly.  In general, Helena felt like managing the store wasn't terribly difficult.  In fact, she grew to love the store as if it were her own.  She knew that once her grandmother retired the store would be passed down to her.  Her plan was to keep ownership of the store, but to make sure she had time for her regular career of becoming a police officer.

Helena's mind was wrapped in the count as she dropped money into the hidden safe below the counter.  The tinkling of the door's bell made her head pop up.  She gave a bright smile and greeted the customer with a warm, "Hey, welcome!"

The man glanced up.  He wore a loose jacket and had his hood placed over his head, partially blocking his face.  This was not initially troubling, as many citizens of Long Beach dressed like this, even on sunny days.  She smiled and put gloves on.  The man went to the front, now lowering his head.  Nowadays she didn't work too much with customers directly, unless there was some sort of issue or special request, but when she didn't have much to do she never minded helping out the line.

"How may I help you?" Helena questioned.  The fact that he didn't like eye contact began to make her suspicious, but she couldn't do much based off of a feeling.

"I ordered a cake for Simon," he mumbled in a soft voice, catching her off guard.  Maybe she was just making bad assumptions about a shy man?

"Simon?" she echoed, thinking back on the recent cake orders.  She didn't remember seeing anything for "Simon," but she wouldn't be surprised if an order or two managed to sneak under her nose.  "Give me a minute, I'm going to go check."

Helena moved to the kitchen area of the store and looked to her busy coworkers.  "Hey, has anyone filled out a cake order for 'Simon?'"  They muttered among themselves, but finally each responded with a "No."

"Alright, thanks!"  Helena made her way back to the front and was shocked by what she saw.

The hooded man had hopped over the counter and was attempting to open the cash register.  He slammed his fist into it over and over, but it was no use, the register refused to open.  He was so engulfed in his attempts to open it that he didn't even notice she was standing a few feet away from him.

"Hey!" Helena shouted, "You can't be back here!"  She moved towards him, ready to force him out of the store if he didn't cooperate.  Adrenaline pumped through her veins, similar to the nervous energy she got before a match.

The man finally looked over to her and flipped her off before continuing his assault on the register.

Helena could not believe this man.  "Guys!  Get the cops!" she shouted to the back area.  She stepped towards him once again, this time her hands up by her face.  He noticed this and as soon as she got into his range he swung at her with a massive haymaker.

Helena ducked under it and landed a clean uppercut right under the man's ribs.  She heard the air escape his lungs and as she went for a follow up attack he surprised her and tackled her to the ground.

Pinned to the ground by his weight, Helena did her best to escape.  She tried to force him off of her by bridging her hips, but she simply was not strong enough.  She pressed her elbow into the soft part of his inner thigh as hard as she could, but he didn't seem to feel the pain.  Her eyes briefly met his.  Immediately, she knew he was on some sort of stimulant drugs.  She knew her attacks would have no effect on this man.  He was too high to feel pain.  The uppercut only worked because he momentarily couldn't breathe.  He didn't even feel the pain.

The glint of a knife showed in Helena's peripherals and she began to panic.  She began to swing wildly at his ribs, hoping one punch would land well enough to give her some sort of advantage.

The man pressed the knife to her neck and she grabbed his hand with both of hers, pushing it back.  He seemed surprised that she was so strong, but it didn't matter.  He began to put his weight into the knife hand and she felt the cool steel pressured against her skin.  She continued to push back against the knife hand and tried to think her way out of the situation, but her mind was stuck.  Much of her life flashed before her eyes.  She remembered her mother, her grandmother, and her friends.  [i]Please don't look at the camera footage, Grandma, it's not going to be pretty,[/i] Helena pleaded in her head, completely convinced that she was going to die.

Her eyes closed as she felt the blade begin to cut into her neck.  She felt the sting of the slice and the warmth of her blood run down to the ground.  But then the pressure stopped.  She wondered if she died.

Helena opened her eyes and saw her coworker, Brittany, pounding her fist into the hooded man's face.  Helena figured she must have tackled him off of her.  Helena stood, holding her neck in hopes of slowing the bleeding.  As she made her way to aide her coworker, she watched the man hold the knife out.  He drove it directly into the side of Brittany.

"Brit!" Helena croaked.  The man pushed Brittany off of him and tried to get up.  Helena saw red.  She leaped on top of him, replacing Brittany, and used her wrestling experience to keep the man on the ground with her own weight.  While using her free hand, Helena slammed her fist into the man's face.  Then she slammed it into him again.  And again.  And again.  She used as much force as possible while in the awkward position until finally the man stopped moving.  She hated the feeling of her fist against his skin.  Sure, she hit people all day long in a boxing ring, but they always had gloves on.  Her fist never truly made contact to anyone's body.  There was always some sort of cushioning.  Helena felt sick.

Helena got off of him and made her way over to her coworker who was writhing in pain.  She doubted the injury to her neck was life-threatening, as he didn't cut terribly deep into her flesh.  "Brit, everything's gonna be okay!" she assured her friend as the police and ambulance arrived on scene.

~~~~~

"And that's what happened," Helena said rather frankly.  She sat with her friends in the center of The Pike, Long Beach's most popular shopping strip.  This was their usual hangout as there was so much to do as well as its location only two miles away from the sandy shores.  She looked around to her friends who were all intently listening in on the story. This was about three days ago, and Helena had taken those few days to be alone.  She wanted to recover mentally and physically before returning to her friends.  Now she was more comfortable talking about the story, but it still bothered her.  "The cops got there, arrested the guy, and the EMTs took Brit and me to the hospital.  I wasn't as bad as her of course.  They gave me some pain meds and a couple days off of work.  She had to go through surgery, but she'll be back up and running in about a week."

Helena looked around at her friends' reactions to the story and lightly touched her neck.  She looked down at her fingertips which were now covered in a mix of concealer and foundation.  No matter how much she tried it seemed no amount of makeup could cover the fresh wound.  She hoped her friends couldn't see the ugly scar under the makeup.  The last thing she wanted was for them to be worried.

"I just don't get why people steal from people.  We work hard to keep the store going!  Hell, if he would've asked me for some money I would've given it to him!  Instead this guy's getting prison and gonna owe money!" she said, frustrated.  She let out a long sigh and rested her cheek on her fist.  She didn't mean to get so riled up in front of everyone.

The young woman couldn't help but wonder what someone else would have done in her shoes.  What would her friends have done?  Would they have gone about it a different way?  Would they have done it [i]better?[/i]  She shooed away these thoughts.

"So, uh, what's up with you guys?" Helena asked in an attempt to move the conversation along.  Little did she know, her friends would be just as upset about the recent rise in crime as she was.