Chapter Eleven:

We Are (the) Champions

Mal Mezzos stood outside the Red Radisson on 21st Ave, smoking a cigar, laughing it up with his colleagues. He had a young woman on his arm—Helen Persia, who wasn't laughing at all, rather busy doing a bump of coke off the side of her hand. She looked exhausted, yet lovely in the 2 AM city lights that drowned the city in a splendor of sin. Mal Mezzos had salt and pepper hair that had been parted to the side and gelled back. He bore thick bushy dark eyebrows that contrasted well against sallow, pale skin. His eyes were yellow against black sclera, looking sinister in low light. He took one puff of his cigar, leaning against his ornamental cane.

"Kids these days all they talk about is getting high and that dumb online game—what is it, Poke Night? Dumbass dances, even my kids are doing the shit."

"Yeah," another man said, with his own cigar hanging out his mouth, "But I think the new games are kinda…cool, ya know? Like, yeah its distracting but sometimes kids need that shit."

"Nah," Mal shook his head, "They don't know what's good for them. Set them in front of a tablet and they start losing their shit. It's having technology raise your fucking kids. It's irresponsible as hell—"

"Ay."

Mal turned around, but Helen hadn't. Rather, she stood with her back turned, touching up her blush in her compact mirror.

"You Mal Mezzos?"

Mal looked at his colleague who gave him a befuddled shrug. He took the cigar out his mouth and held it between two, age-worn fingers, "Who's asking."

Strika looked at him up and down. There was the cane that Arty had mentioned. He was exactly how she described and was more than reluctant to reveal his name. Belilah stood behind Strika, eyeballing the Red Radisson. It was known to be an upscale club, but located in Los Lados because rent here had been cheaper and so, they could maximize profits.

"Me, bitch!" Strika sucker punched him, knocking him off his feet and onto the curb. His colleague, skirted back, shocked and appalled, but Helen had little to no reaction. Mal was bleeding from the mouth, weakly getting up, using his cane as support as he did. His cigar had fell into the puddle, now soaked and useless. He dusted off his suit and looked at Strika.

"That's quite a hook you got. You clearly of the Zebstrika line..." Mal said, "They got good hitting power. Decently high attack stat, ya know?"

"Man nigga fuck you," Strika snapped.

"What is this about?" Mal said, wiping the blood off his mouth, noticing his tooth was chipped, "Goddamn it, you asshole, you know how much it is to get a cap for your tooth."

"You gave drugs to a fuckin' girl, Tessa," Strika said, getting in his face, "I oughta whoop yo ol' ass right here right now. The fuck—you ol' ass, runnin' around with a fucking teenager, my nigga? The fuck you think this is?" He looked over at Helen, who was looking doped out, tired and uninterested. Belilah touched Strika's arm, giving him a low look of warning.

"So what?" Mal asked, "I gave her drugs, she gave me a handjob. You know the deal. Why're you acting brand new?"

"She ODed," Strika barked. He glanced again at Helen who was standing by his colleague—a short, skinny man, with chalk white skin, big round yellow eyes and wispy blue and violet hair, being of the Chandelure-lineage. Mal turned to look at his business partner.

"Chandler, get a load of this motherfucker," he said, laughing, "She ODed? She must have taken some bad shit beforehand. That's hardly my fault. Everyone knows you don't mix shit together or you get a bad reaction."

Belilah folded her arms, glaring at Mal and then cocked her head when she saw Helen, who was now lighting a cigarette.

"The fuck…is this!" Strika shouted, shoving Mal. He stumbled back about a foot, looking wide eyed at the high school senior.

"My man," Mal said, "I don't think you want this. You're barking up the wrong tree."

Strika snatched his cane from him and swung it across his face, cracking his jaw clean open as the cane split in half. Blood squirted from his cheek as he felt his jaw shift painfully to one side, dislocated. He managed to shift it back into place, however, but there was a huge gash on the side of his face, bleeding profusely.

"I will fuck yo ass up," Strika warned, shoving him again, "Fucking creep nigga, keep the hell away from my friends."

Mal scoffed and cracked his knuckles as his arms seem to bubble and shift. In mere seconds they became huge, thick tentacles. He wrapped them around Strika and Belilah screamed, skittering back. He tossed Strika into the window of the Red Radisson, having him hit the benches that were located in the front, toppling onto the ground and finally skidding across the floor. People jumped up from their seats, screaming and darting out the way or leaving altogether. His tentacles shifted back into his arms and he shined his knuckles triumphantly. Superpower had been a rather violent move and when he used it, instead of it draining his energy and weakening his natural defenses, he could feel his body strengthen. It was due to his ability of Contrary, which reversed the effects of stat altering moves. He took off his suit jacket and entered the Red Radisson through the broken window, ignoring the frightened and disconcerted looks of patrons, who were now scurrying for the exit. Strika weakly got to his feet, bleeding from the side of his head. He winced in pain and then doubled over, gasping. He realized a rib was possibly cracked and he could barely move. He fell back on his knees, groaning.

"I told you didn't want none of this," Mal warned, "Now I'm gonna teach your stupid ass a lesson you won't forget."

Strika grimaced, breathing heavily. His ears were ringing and his whole body hurt. But he took a deep breath, his eyes glowing neon blue as he did. The dim lights of the Red Radisson began to supercharge and burst. Electrical energy came out of him but Mal wasn't put off by it. As he was about to grab him, Belilah yanked Mal back and with ease tossed him back through the window he'd broken. Once she did that, Strika allowed himself to stop the energy build up. Belilah cracked her neck and turned around, stomping out of the Radisson. Mal was on his back, groaning. Chandler was looking down at him while Helen was already across the street, hailing a cab.

"You dumb fuckin' bi—"

Belilah picked him up by the collar, "You think you the only nigga who knows Superpower? Now lemme show you how STAB feels, my guy." She swung him and bodied him, slamming him full force on the pavement, snapping his spine in the process. Mal immediately blacked out and laid there, blood pooling underneath him.

"I put niggas to bed," Belilah said, looking at Chandler, "You want some shit too nigga?"

Chandler didn't answer and simply folded his arms, "You can't touch me."

"Don't think I won't whoop yo skinny 5'1" lookin ass, either, pussy," Belilah shouted at him. Chandler, who still had the cigar in his hand, stared her down. Strika stepped through the shattered window, limping. There bruises developing all over his back and some on his face. Chandler looked over at Mal, shaking his head.

"Damn. All this over some stupid crackwhore," he said unceremoniously. Strika looked at Chandler and the short man shrugged, "What, you're going to break my jaw open too?"

"I'm considering it, fuck nigga," Strika growled.

"Try it and I'll burn you alive."

Chandler did not look fazed by any of the posturing but Strika didn't push it. He leaned against Belilah for support.

"Better go get yourself a full restore," Chandler teased, walking off, not bothering to call an ambulance for Mal who was completely blacked out on the street. Strika winced again and took a deep, labored breath before losing consciousness himself.

Strika slowly woke up in Belilah's bed. It was 4:43 AM and he received a bunch of texts from Lakeda demanding to know where he was at these hours of the morning. I'm gonna get a second ass-whooping when I get home, he thought. He sat up, noticing the bruises were gone and the pain was subsiding, but he was left with a headache and a sore back. He looked over at the night table and saw Belilah had used a full restore on him. He sighed, getting out his phone and texting Lakeda.

Strika: I'm stayin over at Laquan's.

Lakeda responded immediately.

Lakeda: Don't lie to me boy.

Ain't nobody seen u around where Laquan be stayin

Where tf u at

Strika groaned, wrestling with himself if he should answer with another lie or simply tell the truth. He decided to go with a half-truth.

Strika: I'm wit a girl.

Lakeda: Wat girl

Strika: A new gf, mom. Her name Belilah.

Lakeda: where tf u find a 'Belilah,'

Name sound ratchet af

She better not be from no fukn Pink Hooks

All them hoes there got STDs

Strika: She nice. Ima stay over.

Lakeda: U must think u grown

Strika: I AM grown. I'm 18.

I can have a girl. I like her a lot

Lemme just have this one W, ffs

There was a pause in communication and then, his phone buzzed.

Lakeda: iight fine

But next time

I wanna meet this 'Belilah'

Strika: kk

He set his phone down as Belilah walked into her room, dressed in sexy nightwear, her hair wrapped up in a lovely headscarf, her skin made baby smooth with coco butter. She had a cup of hot coco in her hand with some mini marshmallows floating on the surface, with cinnamon sprinkled on them. She gave the mug to Strika who smiled at her, giving her a kiss and took a sip of the coco. The warm liquid felt good going down. Belilah got in next to him.

"Ain't never do no dumb shit like that again," Belilah insisted.

Strika took another sip of coco and set it on the night table, "Don't worry, I won't."

"I'm a lover," Belilah said, "Not a fighter."

He chuckled softly, putting his arm around her, "From what I saw earlier…ion know if I believe that."

Belilah laughed a little, "I'm being for real. But ain't never let no nigga or bitch flex on me or mine."

He grinned a bit, "That's good to know." He kissed her forehead, reaching for the lights and turning them off. He gave her another kiss on the mouth, his eyes luminescent even in the darkness. She let out a low gasp and pulled him in for another one.

Sunrise over Los Lados was an amazing affair. The sky was multicolored in the summer twilights and faultlessly blue in the early mornings. Jazmin had noticed that Strika didn't come home last night and Lakeda came in around 3:30 to 4 and was now fast asleep on the couch. She sighed, picking up her backpack. She wore cute heart pattern capris, sneakers and a tied up white t-shirt with PWA on printed on the front. She left her hair out again for she had just finished a wash and go. She popped in her headphones and left the apartment, locking the door behind her, heading to the elevator. When she reached the bottom floor, she walked out into the front of the housing complex and out into the streets, where she would normally wait for the bus. She checked her smartphone for the time and sighed in relief when the bus arrived. For once, it was on time—not too early or too late, having her miss it sporadically. She got on, swiping her student metro and sat in the back, plopped down in her seat as she listened to music, closing her eyes and bobbing along to the lyrics.

"It's just me against the world…stuck in the game…baby…just me against the world…"

Jazmin sighed as she re-opened them, deciding to look out the window as the bus strolled on by. Welcome to Los Lados, she thought dejectedly. There were cops curb crawling at 8 AM, arresting a man at the end of the block, roughing him up and pinning him to the ground. When the bus passed the first two stops, she saw the elderly get on, all exhausted, taking their usual seats in the front, with their portable push carts in front of them.

"With all this extra stressin', the question I wonder, after death, after my last breath. When will I finally get to rest?"

She thought about Keisha as she saw a brown skinned middle-schooler of a Cincinno lineage hop on the bus, using her student metro. What were her last words? Jazmin thought, gripping her phone as she peered out the window again. She saw people from X's crew, chilling out in front of dilapidated trap houses, smoking up, working on their rides, making the engines rev as they blasted music. The bus slowed down at a red light and Jazmin scrolled through her newsfeed. There was no more news about Keisha. She was buried underneath a slew of other nameless deaths, celebrity gossip and political posturing. No hashtag for her name, barely a blip on the radar of the masses. What were her last words? She frowned, leaning against the inner wall of the bus, looking out one last time. She saw kids walking to school, smoking weed, shouting, yelling and laughing. She smiled a little bit and sighed, turning off her phone and pocketing it, adjusting her headphones. She pulled on the yellow string, requesting her stop.

A fiend body got onto the bus, dropping quarters into the slot, sitting in the front corner, shaking as he did, his lips cracked and white. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. Things don't always go the way you planned, she thought. The bus finally pulled up at her stop, near Los Lados High. She yelled out "back door," and the doors slid open and she hopped out, as she made her way to the campus, bopping her head to the music as she walked.

"I know it seem hard sometimes…but…remember one thing…through every dark night,

there's a bright day after that…so no matter how hard it get, stick your chest out…keep your head up, and handle it…"

Jazmin stopped in front of the campus, taking in her surroundings. She took a deep breath and made her way to the front doors of L.L High.

Me against the world…

We against the world…

She stepped through the metal detector and put her bag in the x-ray machine. When that routine was done, she headed to her locker, sighing, taking out her headphones. Portia was nowhere to be seen and Talon was leaning against his locker, giving a student a pink poke-puff for a dollar. She looked around and then frowned, wondering why Portia wasn't here. She walked over to Talon, giving him a hug.

"You seen Portia?"

"Nah…thought she'd be with you," Talon said, letting go of her. Jazmin noticed his kicks weren't looking raggedy anymore—he had new converses, new skinny jeans and a fresh vest. He looked nice when he fixed himself up.

"No…she didn't even text me," Jazmin said, looking at her phone, worried. She shot her a text, hoping for a response. When she didn't get one, she saw Zanny walking up to them, looking concerned.

"Yo, Zans," Talon said, giving him a pound.

"Yo—bruh, where the fuck is Portia?"

"…What you mean?" Jazmin asked, looking alarmed.

"I tried callin' her last night cuz I got some pills and shit for her—she ain't pick up. When I call a second time, her moms pick up, cryin and shit. Ain't neither of her parents seen her since last night…they said she ain't come home."

Jazmin stared at Zanny who clutching his phone, shaking.

"…What happened to the flash drive…"

"Ion know," Zanny admitted, "When I left, some nigga sucker punched me and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in the boys room and the shit was gone."

No…

He got it back…

"Yeah…" Jazmin shook her head, pounding her locker door, "Mr. Roak. He did something."

"How you figure?" Talon asked.

"Cuz he know me and Portia broke in his motherfuckin' house that day—"

"You broke into the nigga's house—?" Talon snapped, "The fu—"

"Yeah," Jazmin said, interrupting, "And he found out it was me, Portia and Zanny. And on our way back from the correctional facility…she just…vanish bruh? Nobody seen her?"

"Nah, at least nobody I know," Zanny said, "And her folks say they ain't seen her either."

Jazmin felt sick to her stomach again, trying her hardest not to hyperventilate, but no avail. She looked at her textbook she had taken out her locker and threw it, frustrated. Tears started to fall down her face as she let out an animalistic scream. The lights in the hallway blinked rapidly, turning off and on in quick succession.

"Ayo shut the fuck up," Zanny whisper-yelled, "Keep yo head on."

"I can't!" Jazmin said, freaking out, "Portia is gone! The fuck…happen to her—? Nobody said anything? Nobody knows nothing? The fuck is this? Where could she be?"

Talon grabbed Jazmin by the shoulders, gently shaking her, "We gon find her. And we ain't doing this shit alone."

"We not?" Zanny asked, legitimately confused.

"No nigga, we not!" Talon said, "We can't do none of this shit alone. We need help. Fuck class, fuck this place and fuck Los Lados. I ain't losing Portia to this shit."

Jazmin wiped her eyes free of tears, "Neither am I."

"Iight, I feel you," Zanny said, folding his arms, "So who's help we getting?"

Jazmin took out her smartphone, beginning to send out texts, "I know who I'm gonna ask."

"Same," Talon said, texting on his own device. Zanny sighed and took out his phone, calling a contact instead of texting.

Jazmin sat outside the school by the side entrance, with Talon, who was smoking a cigarette. She had cut third period and spent the time looking at her phone impatiently. She got up and began pacing, wondering if they would actually come. She was shaking as she paced, trying her damned hardest to blink back tears, but then she sighed in relief when she Naz come out the side entrance, dressed to the nines as usual, looking fresh as fuck. He smoothed down the sides of his hair as he sauntered his way to Jazmin, with Talon scoffing, rolling his eyes.

"Iight, I'm here," Naz said, "What's cracking, cuh."

"Oh stop," Jazmin said, sniffing disdainfully, "And you smell like mad gas as usual."

"I was smoking up before third period—oh wha'ever, bih, the fuck you got me out here for? You ready to be back on this dick?" He teased.

"No," Jazmin said sharply, "Portia is missing. Nobody seen her since yesterday and I know that fuck nigga Mr. Roak got something to do with it."

"…Why would Mr. Roak got somethin' to do with Portia not going home?"

"She didn't go home cuz she def got snatched," Talon said, taking a drag of his cigarette, "And you know, what? Ion give a fuck bout tryna keep this shit on the low anymore. Fuck that nigga and fuck this whack ass school for hiring a whole ass rapist."

"Rapist? Bruh…the fuck did I miss! Why I always missing the good shit, bruh! Who he rape?"

"Keisha," Jazmin said.

"…The sophomore chick…the one who got killed?"

Jazmin nodded, "And he got her pregnant. And he def killed her and then framed Mr. Ace for it."

"Woah, woah, woah slow all the way the fuck down," Naz said, "You laying a lot on me right now."

"Me and Portia overheard him talking to Keisha on the night she died. She was crying about keeping the baby and he didn't wanna keep it cuz it would blow up his spot. So he killed her! And I'm tired of being quiet about it. I'm telling niggas. And you niggas cuz you got a big ass mouth."

"So what we doin' 'bout this then?" Naz asked, folding his arms.

"We gon' find her," Jazmin said, "Cuz Arceus knows them cops ain't gonna do shit about it. People go missing from here err'day and they never found. Useless fuckin pigs…"

"The fuck am I gonna do?" Naz asked, "I ain't shit bruh. It's not like I know how to find niggas."

"No you ain't shit for real," Talon said, getting up close to him, "But ay, Jazmin thinks you useful, so you here."

"Hmm…" Naz nodded, "Portia was cool peoples …she cute as fuck too. Shame if she got snatched."

As he said this, Zanny swung the door open of the side entrance walking with Andre Pom, Big Smoke and Vinalia Plume. Talon gave Andre a bro hug, Big Smoke a pound and smirked at Vinalia who rolled her eyes and held out a cigarette for him to light it.

"Vinny," Naz said, "Looking fineeee…but yeah, I guess y'all coming along."

"Yo nigga," Zanny said folding his arms, "Portia my girl. Ain't some fucking bitch nigga like Mr. Roak gon do shit to her without him getting laid out, got it?"

Big Smoke, who was munching on a bag of potato chips, nodded, "Bruh…I knew he was suss from day one."

"You did?" Jazmin asked.

"Yeah," Big Smoke said, coughing a bit and then grabbing another handful of chips, "He be wearing a ponytail. Bad sign, my guy. All suss niggas wear ponytails."

"I thought he was cute," Vinalia admitted, taking a drag, "He just sound like a whole ass creep now."

"Yea…on his flash drive right, he had pics of girls on that shit—and Tessa was on there. Ion remember err'thing I saw, but I def remember seeing Tessa on there."

"Tessa?" Big Smoke wheezed, "Tessa Tres?"

"Yeah that bih! The fuck was that about?"

"Ion know," Jazmin said, "But I'm tired of this nigga."

"We all cutting third period tho," Zanny said, "This susser than a motherfucker."

"Ion care!" Jazmin snapped, "Ion care about getting an F for this semester. Ion care about going to no fuckin summer school. My friend is missing and I'ma find her."

"Damn chill bih," Naz said, "We gon help you. Ion know how, but we gonna help. Just heads up tho, I'm high as fuck right now, so ion know how useful ima be."

"What we even gon do?" Vinalia asked.

"We going to Brightwater," Jazmin said, "And we gon confront him."

"Nigga wat—"

"You heard me, bruh," Jazmin said, being aggressive, "We gon confront him. I'm sick of this shit! Fuck that nigga!"

The side entrance swung open as she said this and Nines stepped out, her head held high, her expensive purse slung around her shoulder. Everyone eyeballed as she walked out. She put a hand on her hip.

"Wheeeeew you look fuckin' bad, Nines, GOT DAYUM!" Naz called out. Jazmin seethed, grabbing Naz.

"I didn't text her…why the fuck you texted her?"

"I didn't text her, I swear on my moms I didn't," Naz said, lifting his hands up in mock surrender.

"I texted her."

Jazmin looked up and saw Uniqua coming through, holding her hand.

"Big Smoke texted me and so I texted Nines," Uniqua explained, "Portia is cool. It's sad what happened to her…and Keisha."

Jazmin looked at Nines who looked down at her but said nothing as she walked by her, Uniqua in tow.

"How we getting to Brightwater?" Naz asked. Zanny twirled his phone in his hand.

"I'm calling a Drop," he said.

"For all of us?" Naz asked, "Nigga that's hella brea—"

Zanny laughed, "It's seventy dollars—get yo paper up, broke boy." Naz frowned as Jazmin giggled, looking at Talon who was giving her a reassuring nod. She held his hand tightly, feeling nervous. He held it back, squeezing it as he tried to steady himself. Zanny ordered a drop to their location, selecting for a van to fit all of them.

"Three minutes," Zanny informed, pocketing his smartphone.

"Hmph," Nines scoffed, "Mr. Roak a perv? Wow. Never had his fucking class…glad I didn't now."

"Yeah well…" Jazmin murmured, "Sometimes it's the ones y'all least expect, yeah?"

"YOU least expected that nigga," Big Smoke said, finishing his potato chips, "I told you ponytail niggas are suss."

As they chatted among themselves, the Drop pulled up—a black van, being driven by a man of Claydol-lineage. He looked quite unnerving, for he had a row of eyes that surrounded his head that he hid with wrap around glasses. They hopped in, one after another. Those who were smoking put out their cigarettes and discarded it. Vinalia sat in the front.

"Uh…" the driver checked his smartphone that was propped on a mount, "Zanny…?"

"Yep," Zanny called out from the back, "Das me, yeah. Yea all these niggas rollin' with me, bruh, don't gimme that look, just drive nigga."

The driver sighed and set the route on his GPS and pulled out and started driving off, trying to keep a calm head. Jazmin sat next to Talon, looking out the window as Talon scrolled through his phone. Enough will never be enough, Jazmin thought as the van took the local route before heading into the highway. From Los Lados High School, it would be a forty-minute drive, which meant they would reach there at 12:32, if there was minimal traffic. You never bring me good news, she thought as she looked at her smartphone. This shit got me losing sleep.

"…The fuck you doing?" Nines asked Naz as he was going live on social media.

"Letting niggas know I'm a real one out here, stuntin' on y'all and shit."

"You're in a fucking Drop with like sixteen other niggas, how is you stunting?" Big Smoke asked, coughing again.

"Ay ain't we rescuing this bih, Portia?"

"How in the hell is that stunting?" Nines said, sucking her teeth, "Naz put that shit away, you look stupid, bruh."

"Ay man, stop hatin," Naz snorted. Uniqua remained quiet, yawning throughout all this.

"Soon as we done rescuing this chick, I'm unfollowing you," Nines said, "Annoying ass… always fake stuntin' on some shit, nigga please."

"Ion care about yo ass," Naz clapped back, "Only one girl I care about right now and that's Jazzy Jol—"

"Nigga I unfollowed you when you decided to be whole ass trifling motherfucker," Jazmin said, not bothering to entertain any of this.

"Well fuck you too, ol' stanky ass, anyways. Always hangin' around lame niggas, you lucky I even came along to this shit."

"Bruh you callin' people stank but you smell like reggie and Dr. Pepper bruh," Big Smoke said, coughing again. Jazmin giggled at that statement which was followed with softer laughs from others.

"Maaan… fuck all y'all. Eat my nuts, nigga. Ol' fatass looking ass…coughing like he got a virus or something…" he muttered.

"The fuck you say?" Big Smoke said.

Naz sighed, "Nothing." He put his phone away, sitting quietly for the remainder of the ride.