Chapter 19: Emotions are for the rich, kid. Feelings don't pay bills, and they sure don't save your skin out here.
Eli checked the time, the digital clock on his phone showing he had barely thirty-five minutes left before the time Vanessa had specified for the "filming" began. He sighed, pocketing the device.
"Alright," he said, turning to Yuri and Zigi. "One last collection. We'll have to put the rest on hold until I can sneak out again. But before then, you guys can handle the collection of the next three places yourselves. Finding excuses to get away from the house isn't going to be easy for a while."
Yuri gave a short nod, flipping the pistol around to stash it back into his waistband. Zigi, however, whistled excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Eli fixed him with a sharp look. "Calm down, Zigi. Don't get carried away; this isn't a game."
Zigi's grin didn't falter. "No worries, Eli. I know when to keep the fun to myself and when to get serious. Promise."
They headed to the next target on their list: a small, independent electronics store. The owner, an old man, was known in the territory for his stubborn refusal to acknowledge Vasquez's protection racket.
Eli pushed the front door open, the bell above the entrance chiming a cheerful contrast to their grim intent. The store was empty of customers, save for the owner who was bent over a workbench, fiddling with the delicate insides of an antique radio. The air smelled faintly of dust, solder, and old, warm electronics.
The old man looked up when the bell chimed, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to deep wariness upon seeing the three boys—one of them with the cold, assessing look of a predator, the other two clearly prepared for violence.
Eli offered a pleasant, almost charming smile as he walked up to the counter. "Good afternoon, sir."
The old man eyed him suspiciously, his hands stopping their work. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice reedy.
"Just here to collect what's owed," Eli replied, keeping his tone light and friendly. "Vasquez sends his regards."
The old man's face darkened immediately, folding into lines of resistance. "I don't owe Vasquez a damn thing," he spat, slamming his screwdriver down. "Protection? From what? Kids like you?" His laugh was brittle, but his gaze was fierce as he wiped his hands on his stained apron. "Get out of my shop."
Eli's smile didn't waver, but his gaze hardened into something reptilian. "That's not what he says. He made it quite clear on the documents that you've been skipping payments for the past two months." He leaned forward slightly, resting his palms on the counter as he tapped the counter with a fingernail.
The old man scoffed, adjusting his glasses. "I've never paid him a dime, and I'm not about to start now, just because my shop sits on land he claims is his? Don't be stupid."
Elijah exhaled sharply through his nose, stepping closer. "Landlord says otherwise," he murmured, tapping the faded lease papers tacked to the wall. "See that clause? 'Insurance premiums payable to designated third parties.' That's him."
But then he sighed, shaking his head with faux regret. "That's truly unfortunate for an old fogey such as yourself." He stepped back, giving a small nod toward his companions. "Boys?"
Yuri pulled the gun, the sound of the safety clicking off sharp and definitive in the small space. Zigi cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin stretching his lips. He circled around the counter, his grin widening.
He grabbed a fistful of the man's stained collar, yanking him forward with a wet, crunching sound. The radio parts clattered to the floor, scattering screws and capacitors like metallic confetti.
The old man's bravado evaporated instantly. "Wait—wait—wait—" he gasped, his voice cracking. Zigi ignored him, slamming his face into the countertop hard enough to split his lip.
Eli held up a hand. "Let's try one more time. Last chance, Mr. Chen, is it? You're getting old, and your bones look soft. We don't want the cops chasing us for killing a mummy, now do we?"
Mr. Chen's mouth twitched, his gaze fierce, but his fear overrode his anger. He glanced desperately at Zigi, correctly identifying him as the most physically dangerous, then back at Eli. "How... how much?"
"That's more like it," Eli said, his smile returning, cold as ice. He pulled a folded slip of paper from his pocket, reading the total. "Hmm. Looks like some things piled up. Eight hundred Noxs."
The old man's eyes widened in panic. "That's— that's impossible! I make at most five hundred Noxs a month!"
Yuri and Zigi burst into quiet, mocking giggles. Eli simply shrugged. "Not my problem."
Mr. Chen hesitated, his body shaking. After Zigi released his grip, he reached under the counter, pulling out a shoebox filled with crumpled bills. With trembling fingers, he counted out two hundred Noxs, dropping several notes in his haste, offering them to Eli with a weak, pleading smile.
Eli took the money, counted it swiftly, and then frowned. "This is only two hundred. Do you think I'm playing tomb games here, Mr. Chen?"
The old man swallowed hard. "That's all I have, I swear."
Eli sighed, shaking his head. "Not good enough." He turned to Yuri. "Make sure he understands."
Yuri stepped forward, pressing the gun to Mr. Chen's kneecap. The old man whimpered, sweat beading on his forehead as his fingers clawed at the counter's edge.
Just then, a clear, young feminine voice sliced through the tension. "Grandpa!"
A Chinese-looking girl, maybe eighteen, burst through the entrance, followed closely by a young blonde man who looked about nineteen.
Zhu Ting rushed forward, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Eli, annoyed at the timing, addressed her flatly. "Your grandpa owes us protection money, princess, and he's being a nuisance."
The blonde boy behind her sauntered forward with a lazy smirk. "Protection money? From a bunch of kids?" he scoffed, cracking his knuckles. "How about you protect these fists first?"
He threw a punch toward Zigi, who was the closest to Mr. Chen, but Zigi sidestepped with the ease of a predator, his grin widening as he parried it and backed away to Eli's side.
"Kenny, don't!" Zhu Ting shouted, but the blonde was already lunging again—this time aiming for Yuri. Yuri didn't flinch. The gun swung up, pressed directly between Kenny's eyes before his fist could connect. The room froze. Kenny's smirk evaporated, replaced by the slow dawning horror of a man realizing he'd just challenged death to a staring contest.
But as a man with pride, he couldn't just back down after throwing hands, not in front of the girl he was trying to impress. He stepped forward, his expression instantly darkening with protective anger. "Back off."
Yuri chuckled, lowering the gun slightly, but keeping it ready. "Or what?"
Kenny's fists clenched. "Or I'll make you."
Zigi narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to gauge the boy, who was older and slightly taller than them, but clearly out of his depth. Eli raised his hand, stopping his crew again.
"Look," Eli said, his voice laced with patronizing condescension. "We'll back off if you can pay the debt. Don't try to play the hero who doesn't know his place. Otherwise, you back off first. Shoo."
Kenny, bristling at the dismissal, opened his mouth to retort when Zhu Ting grabbed his arm with surprising strength. "Shut up!" she hissed. Her grandfather's terrified expression told her everything—this wasn't some playground scuffle.
"How much?" Zhu Ting asked. Eli studied her face—pretty in a practical way, but there was a shrewdness beneath the fear that intrigued him. He smiled, recalculating. "Eight hundred total. He already coughed up two hundred. That leaves six hundred Noxs. And don't think crying will get you a discount."
Kenny scoffed. "Be realistic. His shop doesn't even owe you a dime."
Eli sneered, his mask of patience finally cracking. "Always the poor people barging into things that don't concern them. Thought you were some loaded, rich young master barging in, but turns out you're just a lizard trying to play crocodile."
Kenny's smile froze, his gaze turning sharp with genuine malice. "Either way, no one is paying anything."
Zigi's grin widened. "Then we'll have to take it by force."
Zhu Ting stepped forward, fierce despite her trembling. "Leave my grandpa alone! I'll call the police!"
Eli shook his head, amused. "Don't try to pull the police card, princess. We don't work for some average Joe in some rusted corner that some scripted instructions could toss around. If we did, we wouldn't be here in the open, claiming territory. Your old man's half dead, that's why we were being lenient. But if you, a young blood, deliver yourself but aren't polite, trying to threaten your inherited debtors, we'll have to teach you some manners."
Kenny quickly stepped in front of Zhu Ting, his stance protective. Zigi's fist struck his throat before he could react, sending him staggering back with a choked gasp. As Kenny doubled over, Yuri jammed the gun into his ribs, whispering, "Stay down or I shift your spine." Zhu Ting screamed and tried to help him, but Yuri grabbed her arm, twisting it sharply behind her back, making her cry out in pain.
Eli watched the chaotic scene unfold with detached interest, then turned back to the source of the problem—Mr. Chen. "Now, about that debt—"
Mr. Chen's hands shook uncontrollably as he reached back under the counter, pulling out a small, worn envelope. He handed it to Eli, his voice a frantic whisper. "Two hundred and fifty Noxs. That's all I have left! Please."
Eli took the envelope, counted the bills quickly, and nodded. "Four hundred and fifty. That won't do. You still owe three hundred and fifty." He turned his chilling smile toward Zhu Ting, who was struggling against Yuri's grip. "Maybe she could help pay off the rest."
The old man's face turned corpse-white. "No— please—" Eli barely spared him a glance, his attention locked onto Zhu Ting, specifically the way her blouse had ridden up during the struggle, exposing a sliver of pale skin above her skirt.
Kenny coughed, his voice strained but firm, "Don't you fucking touch her." He lunged forward stupidly just as Zigi's boot collided with his ribs, sending him crashing into a display of vintage radios. Glass shattered, components skittered across the floor, and Mr. Chen's anguished cry was drowned out by Zhu Ting's scream. Eli sighed, rubbing his temple, then gestured to Yuri. "Hold her still."
Eli glanced at the boy, walked to him and delivered a sudden, vicious kick to his ribs, making him crumple to the ground with a raw groan.
Zhu Ting cried out again, her voice breaking. "Stop! Please— I'll— I'll do anything!"
Eli paused, considering the girl's frantic offer, but shook his head and delivered another kick to Kenny, who groaned louder. The old man could only watch in distress and agony, his heart aching.
Yuri chuckled darkly. "This guy probably read too many hero fantasies. Always the type to jump in without thinking."
Eli grabbed Kenny by his hair and hauled his head up, making him groan again. "Tell me, hero," Eli asked, sneering. "Still want to save the day?"
Kenny's breathing was ragged, his eyes swollen and bloodshot but filled with stubborn defiance. "Fuck— you."
Eli smirked. He punched Kenny hard in the face, feeling cartilage crunch under his knuckles as blood sprayed across the dusty shop floor. He followed that with a punch to the gut twice at the same spot—once to steal the last of Kenny's air, the second to make sure it stayed gone, dropping him like a sack of rice.
Zhu Ting tried desperately to break free from Yuri's grasp, her voice frantic. "Stop! Please— I'll do anything!"
"Too late, I need to instill discipline in him for destroying business property," Eli said, grabbing Kenny's hair and slammed his head three times into the edge of the counter. Blood splattered across the wood—dark, almost black—as Kenny's body went limp.
Yuri released Zhu Ting, letting her crumple beside Kenny's motionless form. She turned him over with trembling hands, her fingers slipping in the warm blood matting his hair, and let out a choked sob when she saw his half-lidded, vacant stare.
Eli turned to her, his expression eerily calm. "Now that's enough payment to let him live and fuck you, ain't it? But hey, got to pay us first, don't you agree?" He grabbed her chin, forcing her face up so she had to look at him. "See? Emotions are for the rich, kid. Feelings don't pay bills, and they sure don't save your skin out here. Said this to someone once, you might be the last."
Zhu Ting's breath hitched, her body trembling violently. Zigi, trying to look supportive, smoothed the pained old man's collar. "Don't worry, grandpa. Your granddaughter will be fine. Just has to work a bit to pay the rest."
Yuri supplied the options, cold and efficient. "She can work for the money either by selling herself to some people I know who love Asian girls, or we could send her to the Blood Pit. Her choice. The Blood Pit would be better though; no matter the outcome, five hundred Noxs is assured, and she could keep the one-fifty for herself, you know, for hospital bills."
Zhu Ting's eyes widened in raw horror. She didn't know what this "Blood Pit" was, but the name itself promised nothing good. The old man, utterly broken, scrambled out from behind the counter and collapsed onto the floor, his forehead hitting the cold tile repeatedly in a desperate, panicked kowtow.
Yuri frowned slightly, his eye twitching. "Can you call someone, then? A relative? We got no time."
The old man shook his head frantically, sobbing. "I have nobody! Just my granddaughter! Please—I beg you—" His words dissolved into wet, heaving gasps as he pressed his forehead back against the floor tiles. Zhu Ting's body trembled violently; seeing her grandfather's complete collapse, she couldn't help but join him, sinking to the floor next to him, sobbing loudly into the tiles.
Zigi stood over the desolate scene, rubbing his forehead awkwardly, gazing down at the broken family. "Ahh— what now?" he muttered.