Azhir emerged from the bathroom, scratching his head furiously as he released a pent-up yawn. He entered the small kitchen, smacking his lips. Pleasantly, he didn't hear Abby's snoring. He peered around and caught sight of the clock. A little after nine. She must be in class.
As he meditated, Azhir felt as if his brain were missing chunks of gray matter.
Sauntering back to the bathroom, Azhir stared into the mirror. His head was completely intact. However, the lack of something clearly vital pestered him.
Okay so yesterday... I went to three classes. Once the last class let out early... wait... did I go to that algebra class? I only remember walking there... a few bits and pieces. Wait... what happened last night? Did I... why was I looking at Isha last night and why was my heart beating so fast?
Back in the kitchen, Azhir brewed himself a mug of coffee and took out hazelnut flavored creamer. Pouring at least two thirds, he stirred the coffee before taking two big gulps. The last time this happened was when I first became this monster. Who was in charge during those gaps? Was it that psychopath... or the cerebral guy? I'd rather it be him. No telling what chaos the psychopath will bring. Outside, Enyeto breathed in the fresh air, then he felt a tinge of pain.
The hell? Tugging his shirt down, Enyeto's eyes widened briefly at a patch near his clavicle. So, I was in a fight yesterday, but with who?
A few feet to his left, the door swung open and Isha emerged, lighting a cigarette. Registering Azhir, she froze. He couldn't break his gaze, and he felt a wash of embarrassment. Am I being rude?
"... Good... good morning..." He smiled and awkwardly waved.
"... good morning..." Isha's hands trembled as she grinned. Once she turned to take another puff, the cigarette slipped to the ground. Frustrated, Isha stubbed the ember out before pulling another one.
Flick. Flick. Spark after spark went off but the flame wouldn't appear. Tentatively, Azhir approached and stretched out his hands. Isha nearly recoiled.
"... try to hold it steady..."
Gently, Azhir gripped her lighter and slid his finger along the wheel. The fire sparked and he hovered it near the end of her cigarette.
Stepping back, he observed as she inhaled and exhaled.
"... thank you." Isha said softly. Azhir caught a small laceration on her arm, though it wasn't deep or in danger of being infected.
"Anything happen last night?" Azhir asked.
"No!" Isha blurted out.
"... I just had... a bizarre nightmare. It's really nothing to worry about."
"I have those every now and again." Azhir admitted with a small smile.
"But I've gotten used to them. I just go lucid and immediately conjure something to change my fate." Wish I could do that in reality. Azhir stretched.
Isha nodded as she puffed again, eyes vigilant, body quite tense, and swirling confusion that prevented her from shoving Azhir outright. Daring to open her mouth again, Isha attempted to sound unaffected.
"Never got to ask but, you know what you're majoring in?" Isha saw no harm or suspicion in such a cliche question among students.
"Philosophy... I know it's not the major for big bucks but..." Azhir cut himself off from explaining since Isha hadn't asked. Something in his demeanor made her pause. Shoulders slightly forward, a sheepish expression.
"But...?" Isha encouraged him to continue.
"... I like different perspectives on life. Meanings and experience shape that. People use different words to describe some but usually they all fall within a thought that's already widely established. Learning about that... it means I can understand people more..." Azhir avoided any eye contact.
Isha stared, mouth agape. A piece of her cigarette burned away and fell.
~
Lying in bed, Derek occupied himself with the scuffle last night and the revelations it brought. He kept a hand over his bruised ribs, a constant reminder that whoever Matt's enemy was, clearly, Derek himself lacked the qualifications to deal with such a creature.
Last night, Derek had been dangled in front of death more than he has in his entire life!
Can Little J and Big Foot even jump him? His eyebrows arched before they evened out, a slow sigh emerged, then a sharp whistle.
"Seems bullets are effective, though." Derek grinned before he jerked at a sharp pain. If Matt is associated with this, I should extract whatever I can from him. As far as I've seen, those drugs I gave to Little J and Big Foot are permanent. One or two more would help us gather funds and checkmate any brawl or shootout those young bastards want to start with us.
Hearing a knock at the door, Derek groaned as he slid his legs to the floor. Recklessly, he bent over as he stood, body tilting. Muscling himself to balance, another knock merely added to his frustration.
"I'm coming." His exasperated voice carried throughout the house. Staggering to the front door, Derek opened a crack. Jamie's face was visible, the sunlight reflecting off his earring.
"Heard you got jumped by a couple dogs and fell down a hill." Jamie spoke as a matter of fact, one that he himself couldn't believe.
"Pathetic I know." Derek chuckled then grunted at the pain. Stepping back, Jamie presumed entry and perched himself at the kitchen table. Before taking a seat himself, Derek huffed his way to the washer and threw in a load to start.
"Was there trouble with whoever you got those drugs from?" Jamie's tone was low and secretive, despite the absence of children or spouses. Derek motioned to the refrigerator and Jamie rose to get him a drink.
"The guy called the other day. Left a day early since I'd be at work right now if it wasn't for this." Derek seethed as another needle of pain vibrated in his sternum. Jamie handed him an uncapped bottle of water.
After chugging half of it, Derek let out a satisfied sigh.
"Apparently there's someone after him. He said some fucking rival to his employer. Guess they're in deeper business than we are." Though, it seems instead of getting people high, they're using lab rats. Derek sipped more.
"Sounds like we need to pull out." Jamie advised.
"Pull out?!" Derek sputtered, then flinched predictably.
"We have what we need from the guy, but if there's people after him like this..." His gaze focused on Derek's chest before they met his eyes again. "The last thing we need is a third party to make it a gangbang! I don't want to be fucked from three sides!" Jamie slammed a fist into the table's leg.
Keeping a stern face, Derek's gaze lowered a fraction. Though stubborn, Derek knew conflict with the police, the Neon Nobles, and this third party would only lead to the Golden Python's weakening. Or worse... it's downfall!
"... As long as we keep things under the radar, the police can't do much. It's not like they can pull us over for wearing a certain color. Make sure our guys know not to walk around declaring themselves a member.
"And you let me worry about the third party." Derek finished the bottle of water.
~
Calves over the back of the couch, Chloe trilled and swayed her legs while staring at the TV. Hair draping toward the floor and exposing a dark scar, two inches wide on her forehead. As the images on the screen cycled, Chloe's eyes fluctuated depending on the scene.
In one scene, two knights fought with broadswords. The resoluteness and grittiness she tracked with keen interest. Others involved talks of honor and the political ramifications of battles, something Chloe was privy to but nevertheless, her eyes went dull.
But her irises adopted the color of blood upon viewing the passion between a knight and the lady he dedicated his life to. Swearing loyalty in every facet of his being elicited a gasp. The teasing words caused her lips to quiver. Her eyes froze on their desperate grunts.
Interposing into her imagination, Julian and Glass entered and met a disgruntled Chloe who kicked her legs upright, balancing on two hands.
"What do you two tourists want?" Her gruffness meant to repulse.
Regardless, the two were unaffected and formally faced her. Glass wore black wide legged trousers and a silky beige blouse.
Beside her, Julian was in a formal suit pants and shirt but no jacket. He rolled his eyes.
"We may be sending you to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico." Glass informed.
"In a few containers, authorities found tons of kilos of cocaine and needles for heroin injection. However, there were a couple traces of the Nephilim drug. Fortunately, we've had insiders recover the samples."
Chloe flipped upright.
"Why send me?" Chloe closed the distance in a couple of steps and shot a finger at Julian.
"He doesn't seem to be doing anything at the moment."
"Neither are you." Julian shot back.
"Because we need to track and disrupt the source. Julian is efficient but, in this case, efficiency means reorganization can happen."
Glass turned off the TV to wring Chloe's attention completely. She prepared herself for a rise in pitch, perhaps an escalation of property damage. If Chloe's boldness grazed the heavens, at least Julian could compete with her... for a time. However, the lack of a reaction left Glass curious. Usually, she'd be protesting a little with the location being so far away.
"... fine... but don't complain if you have to clean up anything..." Chloe conceded. Great. Inwardly, Glass sighed.
"... Is my brother okay?" Chloe asked rather cooly. "If you had sent us together, we would have found..."
"He meets standards that you don't..." Upon hearing Glass' short explanation, Julian hid his reaction. Why does that sound rehearsed?
Chloe sighed and waved a dismissive hand.
"If that's all, you two can leave now."
Julian stepped aside and allowed Glass to exit the room first, eyes never leaving Chloe's form. Hearing her heels clack in the hallway, Julian soon followed after, closing the door behind him.
As he walked with her, he remained silent until there was a sizable distance. Each step, Julian felt his burden lessen, his muscles unwinding. Caution still the utmost priority, Julian spoke in a lowered tone.
"What's the real reason? It'd take me longer but it's not like I haven't dismantled compounds before."
Glass didn't spare him a glance. "Do you have a sibling?"
"A little brother." Both of them kept their conversation narrowly above a whisper.
"You're right. She's equal to Azhir in almost every way and in some areas, she's even more talented or stronger. However, any cooperation between those two in the field is too costly. I've personally had to wipe three weeks' worth of evidence while guiding the fallout."
"Sounds like fucked up parents." Julian concluded. Glass exhaled.
"Azhir's dad actually... he wasn't bad." For a moment, Glass reminisced too many aspects. Tears. A hopeful smile.
"Azhir's... dad...?" Julian questioned.
Glass nodded. "Chloe's parents took Azhir in as an infant." Glass refused to explain further, a strange respect for privacy, or simply classified information she could only speak on so much of.
~
In the corner of the club, Zuri leaned against the wall nestling a cup of rum undistilled by soda. Her gaze hovered to a couple tables where groups joked and slammed back shot after shot.
On the dance floor, bodies gyrated to the beat, individuals crowded as they sought heat from the bodies of strangers. Some awkwardly scrolled through their phone, the light from the screen not visible to anyone outside the mass.
Wearing skintight jeans along with a burgundy shoulder-less blouse and an alluring brown lip balm, Zuri permitted herself to be mesmerized by the atmosphere. Then, Zuri reminded herself to breathe properly.
Suddenly, she found herself in a house. Dark. Flashing lights. Girls being tugged by guys' arms on their shoulders. Teens making out.
Then she was walking to a bedroom. By the bed, she froze, expecting someone. A faint whisper echoed like a chainsaw. Rough hands nearly crushed her wrists.
She heard laughter above the music yet hardly anyone's voice was audible. No one lingered near her either. Her fingers slowly crunched the cup, face contorting into humiliation.
"You alright?" She felt a hand tap her shoulder. Back in the club, Zuri found the scene the same.
Her head whipped to a dark-skinned girl in a one-piece jumpsuit. Hair unkempt from dancing and sweat. Demeanor relaxed.