Diamonds. Hearts. Spades. Clubs. What comes to mind when I say those words? If you're like most normal people, it was probably a deck of cards. You can practically see the shine on the obsolete shapes that litter the cards in pre-chosen numbers.

But it's not just that, it's the power those four words have over your minds. The power of imagery that four words, five syllables, and twenty five letters can have. Together, they are an unstoppable force that prey upon your feeble mind, taking it over without a single act of rebellion or resistance. Because by now, you're used to it.

Diamonds. A polished stone made by heat and pressure. The physical representation of lust.

Hearts. The central organ in your body which allows you to carry out the process of life. A weak point in your body made to apply a swift death, by either love or steel.

Spades. Sharp shovels used to dig into hard earth. The threat of a battle, the threat of being buried under the weight of your emotions and scorn.

Clubs. A central place of meeting or a blunt instrument. A dagger which when used correctly can hurt worse than the blade.

Apart, they make rationality and physicality unimportant. Each symbol stuck feverishly in your mind, representing only one thing, because most humans have yet to learn the tactic of arguing with our minds. But together is where the real power is. Together decides whether the house falls or stands. The cards are my metaphor, as well as my downfall.

Led by the Jack of Clubs into a war we couldn't finish. Opposed by the Queen of Diamonds, her minions undoubtedly faithful.

The Knowing is a servant to the Jack of War. The Enemy is the child of the Queen of Lust.

And the cards are willing to turn in anyone's favor.


I was tired. I was really freaking tired. Or at least, I assumed I was. Tiredness had become such a normal part of me, it was like my nose. I knew it was there, and it was always in my line of vision, but I chose to ignore it. With a yawn, I laid my head down on my fist, resting my elbow on the two notes, flipped over so the ghosts in the room couldn't see. My body ached, my mind throbbed, the bandages I didn't remember being applied were soggy. They needed to be changed. Even my emotions hurt from being thrown around like they didn't matter. I sighed, standing up with a groan as my fingers found the papers under my elbow, gently tucking them under a cushion as I walked towards the couch. It was too early in the morning to disturb Zane. Flopping down on the couch, I pulled my body into a ball and closed my eyes, coaxing myself into a restless sleep.

It felt like only moment later when a door slammed over to the side, wrenching me out of coma disguised as slumber. "Aryan?" Someone spoke across the open suite, but to my tired brain it was practically a yell. I groaned, rolling over and mashing my face into the uncomfortable, decorative hotel pillow I had been resting my head on.

"I mean this in the most loving way," I started, my speech muffled by the pillow, "but please, piss off, Zane." I heard footsteps walk across the wood floor towards the front of the couch. I pressed my head harder in my pillow as I felt fingers brush my hair across my neck and trace up to my jawline. His palm pressed against my cheek. Months of labor, fights, blood, scratches and scars had made his once soft hands hard and rough, so I could feel every crevice and cranny. I gently turned my head, so that only my left eye was showing. He had crouched down to be at my height. He smiled softly.

"And I mean this in the most loving way possible," he said, the smile still on his face, "but are you drunk?" He ran his thumb over my cheekbone. Though his smile normally made me feel a little better, today the darkness hung over me like a shroud. I reached out with my left hand and ran my finger pads across his face until my fingers fell off the skin and onto the cool metal. What had once laid underneath was now on top. I gently traced the exposed wires and the patterns of metal around his right eye, now only a constant glowing orb of blue light, the same color as his natural eyes. I guess, to be technical, this was his natural eye. I let my finger fall down to the corner of his lip, were the skin had been removed enough I could see the hinges in his mouth and the white molar set in the artificial pink gums. Zane removed his hand from my face and grabbed my exposed fingers, tangling them with his so I could not longer touch the secret he loathed. The thing that made him different from us.

I tried to reminded him that it only made him different from the others, that I was a freak of nature, an android in my own way. Cursed as well as him to live my life until a material object ended it, but he didn't like to bring it up. He didn't like to talk about it. But it was a part of him, so I continued to not know when to shut up. Zane wants to be human and I want to not have genetically engineered super blood running through my veins. Guess you can't have everything.

"I need to fix that." I mumbled towards him, eyes still tracing over the exposed metal. He smiled again.

"You did not answer my question." He said. I rolled my eyes, trying not to snap in my state.

"Don't change the subject." I removed my hand from his and began to fiddle with the collar and buttons on his shirt, hanging loose around his torso since he had yet to button it. Zane leaned forward slightly and sniffed the air around my face. I pulled back, slightly confused by the action.

"What the hell are you doing?" I turned my head all the way towards him, my voice still groggy. He pulled back away from his lean, eyes still on me.

"You do not smell like alcohol." I shook my head slightly in my pillow.

"Of course I don't, I wasn't drinking." I said. Zane smiled again, wider this time. He put his hands on his knees as he stood up, replying to me as he went.

"I'm sure you were not." Zane flat out sucked at being sarcastic, so I could hear it in his voice as loud as I heard him in general. "Breakfast?" He asked as walked around the couch and to our small kitchen. I let out a small sigh.

"Great to know the level of trust we have in this relationship, babe." I immediately regretted adding babe to the end of that sentence as I finished. We didn't have any pet names for one another, it wasn't that we didn't like them, they were just impractical. It was Zane and Aryan, maybe Zanen and Aryanetta for when we were being serious. The closest thing we had to pet names was sometimes Zane called me Netta, and even that didn't happen very often.

Zane either didn't hear or ignored my comment as he continued to talk. "I am unsure what we have to prepare, but I am sure I can..." His obnoxiously happy morning chatter cut out, replaced by the quiet rustle of paper. I kept my eyes focused on the window across the room until I realizes what I heard. Bolting up and giving me a slight headrush, I turned towards Zane, who was studying one of my papers, the other laid out on the table. He must have saw the corner sticking out from under the booth cushion. With all the grace I could muster in the morning, I hopped over the back of the couch and walked slowly towards him. He held up one paper in his hand, the confusion showing in his one eye. "Aryan, what is this?" He asked me slowly. My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes darted over to the note, the words sinking in.

It was at that moment that I realized I wanted last night to be a dream. A nightmare, more appropriately. But it wasn't. And it wasn't a game I was playing. It was hardcore, illegal shit. A bad idea on so many levels I couldn't count them on two hands. I tried not to squeeze my eyes shut as I reached towards the paper. "Please don't ask me about that, Zane." I said, but he pulled the paper out if my reach.

"What is this, Aryanetta?" He asked again. I massaged the bridge of my nose at the mention of my full name.

Great. He was gonna fight me for this.

"It's really none of your concern, Zane." I said, reaching towards the paper again. Again, he pulled it away.

"By the looks of this, it does not seem to be any of yours either." I set my face and eyes, letting him know I meant business.

"Don't fight me for this." I said, slowly and well pronounced. A threat.

"Do not make me have to." He retaliated, making me cringe a bit. He had verbally pushed me up against the wall, meaning now I had to tae physical action. With slow breath, I began to walk towards the door, sliding my phone off the counter as I walked, but I didn't get far. Zane roughly grabbed my upper arm, making me almost drop my phone. I stealthily slipped it into my pocket as we started at one another, a battle in our heads. "Whatever trouble you got yourself into," he started, his words quiet now that we were close, "you just got me involved as well." I swallowed tightly, wanting to break eye contact and knowing that I couldn't.

"Not if I'm the one making the trouble." I said quietly, wrenching my arm out of his grasp and gathering up the papers he had been forced to drop. I walked swiftly towards the door, turning around as my fingers wrapped around the handle. Zane was where he had been a moment before, eye and orb trained on me. I squeezed my eyes shut, opening them a moment later. "I beg of you Zane, leave this alone." Zane's chest rose and fell with the quick beating of my heart.

"Make me." He whispered quietly, as though he didn't want me to hear. I felt my eyes narrow, the doorknob opening the door with a click, as I stepped out into the quiet hall, I turned back towards Zane as the heavy door began to glide shut.

"Then stay the hell away from me." I said quickly. "Because I refuse to drag you into this." The door clicked shut and I ran down the hall, muttering sorry over and over again under my breath towards ears that couldn't hear.