Chapter Twenty:

No Straight Roads

The interior of G-Dos' house was beautifully modern. The carpet was a uniform rose gold and the walls a smooth eggshell white, with dim honey colored lights espaliered onto the living room partition. The dining room was also nothing to scoff at as it was a representation of G-Dos' wealth. He sat around a long mahogany table with Millie Lotus. She'd just finished swimming in their backyard pool with their two kids, Gera and Don. G-Dos cut into his fresh steak, enjoying every bite of it, while his kids enjoyed chopped up bites slathered in steak sauce with fries on the side. Millie had more vegetables on her plate than the others, enjoying the watercress, broccoli and chestnuts. As G-Dos took his third bite, he saw that his glass of champagne was quivering.

Soon, everything in the house started to shake—the trembling growing in intensity as the seconds passed. Millie screamed and grabbed the kids, trying to head out through the back. G-Dos went to follow her, grabbing his keys and whatever else he could carry. But as they made their way through the living room, a hailstorm of bullets began flying through the windows, shattering them on impact. Millie screamed again, trying to take cover—but she was not fast enough. She was caught several times in the stomach and one in her face. She collapsed, onto the carpet, bleeding out as brain matter splattered against the wall and half of her head had been blown right off. The kids were now screaming and crying, taking cover behind the couch along with G-Dos, who began shouting, covering his ears. The volley stopped for a brief moment and G-Dos took that time to shoo his children out through the back.

"Hide in the pool!" He cried out to them. He heard the clicking of reloading guns and dove behind the couch once more. He was on his stomach, shimmying towards the front of the house. The second onslaught did not last long as the first one and G-Dos found himself feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of Millie's body. Blood pooled underneath her, her body sprawled out in an unnatural position. There was a foul smell of her soiling herself before she gave up the ghost. G-Dos lurched back behind the couch when he heard heavy footsteps approach the porch. The front door was ripped right off its hinges by X-Large who with his other shooters, stormed inside, armed to the teeth. X-Large sniffed the air, catching G-Dos' scent and looked towards the couch. G-Dos jumped up, making himself visible. He bared his diamond tipped fangs at X-Large, snarling like an animal. With that, he picked up the whole sofa, throwing it at X.

He caught him, causing him to tumble back against the glass coffee table, shattering it underneath the force of the throw and his solid weight. G-Dos dashed as quickly as he could towards his kitchen, turning on the left countertop sink and then the right one. Talon was the last one to enter, his face turning a sickly green when he saw Millie's body on the carpet, half of her face blown off and her brains sliding down the off-white walls. He gagged, turning around, going back on the porch to vomit into the shrubbery that surrounded the corners of the patio. X-Large, on the other hand, got to his feet, throwing the sofa off of him with relative ease and dashed towards the kitchen, his shooters behind him. G-Dos lifted his arms, swirling himself around with water. As he did, he pushed himself forwards, as if he was launching his whole body. He slammed into X-Large, going through the wall and back into the living room, completely soaking him as he did.

"Nigga get the fuck off me!" X-Large shouted, delivering several blows to G-Dos' head. At the third blow he managed to knock G-Dos off of him and got to his feet. The water weakened him and he coughed, shaking himself like a dog to get the excess moisture off his skin. X-Large was gasping, noting that he was now bleeding from his side from the combination of being tackled through a fucking wall and being drenched. Zanny began shooting, trying to hit G-Dos who was ducking and weaving.

When Zanny's handgun was out, he tossed it as hard as he can, striking G-Dos directly at the side of his head. He fell to the ground, but quickly recovered, scrambling to get to the back of his house. X-Large raced after the opp, easily outpacing him and seized G-Dos. G-Dos ripped away from his grip, slugging him in the face with an old one-two. X-Large stumbled back, groaning at the hit, feeling his nose crack and his lip split. G-Dos bit him on the arm, crunching down hard, managing to tear off a chunk of flesh. X-Large howled in pain, pitching backwards against the wall, holding his mangled arm. G-Dos swung on him again, missing as X sidestepped. His fist went through the partition and he tried catching him one more time. But a shooter got into the hallway between the living room and the veranda, shooting G-Dos multiple times in the back. He crumpled to the ground and fell face flat onto the floor, struggling to stand. X-Large was still holding his blood soaked arm, staring down at G-Dos. He was still and no longer breathing.

"Yo, X," Claw called out, "This nigga's kids are tryna hide in the pool."

X-Large was sliding against the wall, sitting down, swallowing hard. The pain from that crunch was excruciating and the raw wound would fester if not treated.

"F-fuck n-nigga, go get a f-full restore and some f-fuckin' bandages from my car," he said. Claw nodded, running out the front door to do so. X-Large knew that this man's neighbors would be calling the cops any second now. They had to split. As he sat there, Zanny walked into the backyard, going towards the pool, where Vi-Vo had been hovering over, his insectoid wings buzzing loudly in the warm night air. He was cocking his head, trying to see if he saw G-Dos' two kids. Zanny slid his gloved hands into his pocket.

"Ay, them lil niggas gon' snitch. You know what you gotta do, bruh."

Vi-Vo nodded. His eyes started to radiate, the red rings around his pupils vibrating as if it was a wavelength traveling through the air. His railgun horns began charging up as the patio lights began to flicker violently before over-charging. He hovered up higher and shot a bolt of lightning into the water, completely electrifying it. There was the sound of muffled screams for a couple of excruciatingly brief seconds. Zanny couldn't watch. He turned his head, disgusted. Gera and Don floated to the surface, their eyes glassy and gray. Vi-Vo slowly hovered down and landed on the pool's edge. He put his shades on, lighting a cigarette and walked away, leaving the bodies there. Zanny refused to look and simply turned around, walking back into the house, turning off the sinks and back into the hallway where X-Large was being treated by Claw. His arm was bandaged up and he managed to move it. The pain was still there, but the full restore managed to alleviate the worst of it. The other shooters began leaving, heading into their respective cars, with X-Large leaving last. He saw Talon looking sick and pale, standing by Big Smoke's escalade that was parked in the front. He hadn't fired one shot or done anything, really. X-Large softly sucked his teeth.

"Set the fuckin' house on fire," he said, heading to his car with Claw, who would be driving for him.

"Uh…nigga what," Talon asked.

"You heard me nigga," X-Large said, "You ain't do shit all night. Make yo self useful and set the bitch on fire."

Talon sighed, not wanting to refuse. He knew everyone in there was dead. But it seemed like overkill. He walked back towards the porch. He hesitated, frowning, but was prodded on by Big Smoke, who handed him a canister of kerosene.

"Just do it man," Big Smoke said, walking back to his escalade.

Fuck…holy…fuck, Talon thought, feeling tears starting to fall as he drenched the veranda with kerosene. He disposed of the canister and snapped his finger. With that, a flame instantly materialized, quickly spreading across the porch and then all over the shrubbery. Talon walked away, his head low, trying to hide his crying face. Big Smoke noticed it, but hadn't said anything. He opened the car door for him and let him get in first before Zanny. The Zangoose mon looked just as distressed, though he wasn't crying. Big Smoke got into the driver seat and waited for the other cars to pull out and drive off, before taking off himself. Talon, shaking and emotional, began texting Jazmin.

Talon: plz answer. I need to talk

Jaz: wassup?

Talon: i feel awful.

i ain't cut out for this

u free later today?

Jaz: yea, after community service

Wat's going on?

Talon: I feel sick

I feel filthy

Jaz: nigga tf u do?

Did sumth happen?

Talon: ima tell u in person

I can't do it here

Jaz: is this bout X?

Wat he tryna have u do?

Talon: jaz just meet me tomorrow

I'm just tryna get by bruh

As Talon texted, Jazmin was up, around 2:30 AM, sitting with Strika on one of the benches outside the housing projects. She stared at her phone for a minute and then quietly exhaled, putting it away and then turning to Strika. He was leaning over looking sullen, even more so than usual. Jazmin pulled her legs up to the bench as he leaned back, putting an arm around his little sister.

"I've been fuckin' shitty," Strika admitted, "Ion know why I'm like this."

Jazmin leaned into him, giving him a slight hug, "It's okay."

"No…it ain't," Strika sighed, "Ion know much about the future…or what it be holdin' for us, but in Los Lados, it feels like, there ain't no future."

Jazmin wondered about that, gently humming as he scratched behind her ear. It's not…for us to decide. Never up to us.

"Portia went to East Lados…and I think she and Zanny are pretty much over…or on break or somethin'…."

"Yeah…I heard."

"How niggas get through the day without losin' they shit," Jazmin pondered out loud, "If it's not our skin they scared of today, then it's our powers, our skills, our…culture…everything. Nobody gave a fuck when Keisha died," Jazmin said, "Ain't nobody but us cared when Portia was kidnapped. Nobody cared to look into Mr. Roak's background before hirin' the nigga. And that cop…"

"…That cop ain't gonna get anything done to him," Strika said, "Laquan was tall, dark skinned and could prolly use a fire move in a split second, even tho he didn't. That was enough for him to be scared."

Jazmin hugged Strika again, sensing his pain.

"All I could think…was…why ain't I stop 'em. Why ain't I do something. I just froze up."

"Das natural," Jazmin said, "Ion know why you actin' like you could do somethin'."

"Cuz I fought," Strika said, "I fuckin' fought niggas for money and when it came down to fightin a nigga for my friend's life, I fuckin froze."

"Then it woulda been you dead," Jazmin said, her voice taut and anxious, "I…Strika…please."

"It don't matter," Strika said, shaking his head, "Ion know anymore." He sat quietly for a moment, pulling Jazmin closer.

"You were too young to remember," Strika began, "But I was eight and dad died…and you were four. I was there in the Poke Center. He got fucked up in a fight—a rock slide crushed damn near every bone in his body. That instant regenerating shit they do there…only work for people with wounds that can actually be healed…ya know, like gunshots, stab wounds, burns, confusion and so forth. No matter how many times they tried healin', the bones couldn't….fully regenerate cuz it was so fucked up."

Jazmin closed her eyes, listening to Strika speak.

"I was standin' there, looking at him, just…a fucked up ass body. The nigga was attached to a machine, tubes all up his fuckin' nose. I was cryin'. I remember mom cryin' while she was holdin' you. His last words, I remember as clear as day. 'You already know how this was gonna end.' Last fuckin' words…then he stopped breathin'."

He took a deep shuddering breath and Jazmin wiped her wet eyes.

"It ain't the first time I looked death in the face," Strika said, "But even tho I seent the shit before…it never stops shockin' you."

"Yeah…" Jazmin said quietly, patting Strika's back.

"I feel so bad for Laquan's moms and pops," he said, "I saw 'em when the police commissioner broke the news to them. Holy…fuck…I ain't never seen a grown man just…deflate… like his pops did. Ion know…if I can look 'em in the face at the funeral…I feel like…they gon blame me…cuz…I should've done somethin'…"

"Strika…" Jazmin muttered, "Stop blaming yo self…it's…not you, it's not Laquan…it ain't nobody's fault but the fuckin' cop who shot him."

He let out a soft, stifled sob.

"H-he was g-gonna go to college on a b-basketball s-scholarship," he said, breathing hard now, "D-damn son…"

Jazmin rubbed his back and hugged him. He hugged back, allowing himself to cry softly. All he could think of was the last text Belilah had sent.

A day in the life a black skinned mon.

"Yeah…" Jazmin murmured, her voice tight, "Yeah…"

She closed her eyes, feeling tears fall down her face as well.

You already know how this was gonna end…

Jazmin decided not to show up for community service in the morning. She figured she would make up the hours the next day and opted for meeting up with Talon and Sandy's old traphouse. She gave a cheerful hi to Taheha who was playing with toys in the half-burnt out yard with Crystal. The Glaceon gave her nod, before lighting her crack pipe and sitting a good distance from the toddler. Jazmin walked in and saw Talon, smoking a cigarette in the kitchen. He put it out when he saw Jazmin and gave her a tight hug. She hugged him back firmly, taking in his smell. When they refrained, Talon sat around the table with Jazmin hopping up on the countertop.

"Ion know Crystal even liked kids…she don't like anyone…" Jazmin said, looking out the kitchen window.

"Yeah…she likes kids… 'bout the only thing she give a fuck about," Talon said, shrugging. However, his face showed that he wasn't trying to have small talk. Jazmin swung her legs back and forth, trying to keep an upbeat attitude.

"X-Large pulled up on G-Dos."

"…Who?"

"An opp from Coast City," Talon said, "Uh…I was with him. They fuckin' shot up the house…killed err'body inside."

"…" Jazmin stared at Talon who looked back at her. There was a long, lingering silence that felt heavier than hot summer air.

"H-he had a girl and they h-had kids," Talon said, "And uh…I saw her. She got…caught…in the head…."

Jazmin winced, looking down at the floor.

"And…the kids," Talon said, covering his face, "Z-Zanny said…they hid in the pool and…uh, Vi-Vo…you know…"

"I know…" Jazmin whispered, knowing who Vi-Vo was. There was another, poignant stretch of silence and Jazmin, with her legs still now, stared off into space, trapped in her thoughts. It ain't ever easy…but we can't escape fate, can we?

"I…ain't built for this," Talon whispered, trying to hold back tears, "I a-ain't even fire my gun…"

"What you do then?" Jazmin asked, nervously.

Talon wiped his eyes, tapping the tabletop with his gloved fingers, "H-he asked me to burn the fuckin' place down. So I did."

Jazmin frowned, "Talon…"

"I ain't wanna do it! I…was just so fuckin' shook…so I did it cuz ion want no beef with X," Talon said.

"Did anyone spot y'all?"

"Only when we was leavin'…but not all of us," Talon said, "And uh…no cops showed up when we was there. It was a quick thing. Got in and out. They came after…"

Jazmin's ears were drooping as she twiddled her fingers.

"I ain't cut out for this," Talon reiterated, "I got in the trap game to just…help my sis and myself, bruh. Ya know, get some fuckin' bread, look a bit fresher, eat a bit better. Ion wanna kill niggas!"

"Then just stop bruh," Jazmin said.

"X gon beat my ass," Talon fretted, "I can't just…fuckin' get in this shit and just quit. He gon' think I'm pussy."

"But you is pussy!" Jazmin said, "And that's fine, bruh! You just fifteen! You allowed to be fuckin' pussy! You don't need to be trappin, bruh…just stick to yo job and yo candy hustle."

Talon took a deep, tired and labored breath, still tapping his fingers on the table.

"…Yeah…I'm pussy…" he laughed a little, "And that's okay…"

"If it mean anything…you brave where it counts," Jazmin reassured. Talon looked at her, giving her a brief smile.

"Yeah…yeah!" he said, "I am…"

He lit another cigarette, motioning to Jazmin to open the window, which she did. He took a drag and stood up, giving Jazmin a hug. She returned the hug with equal tenderness. When they broke the hug, Jazmin touched his face, giving him a small smile. He tried squelching a blush but it shone through his caramel colored skin. She pulled her hand away, hiding her own blush, looking somewhere else in the room.

"So…um…" Talon began, trying to break the long silence, "You think X gonna…give it to me?"

Jazmin gave him a roll of the eyes, "C'mon nigga…corny ass jokes."

"Yeah but you know what I mean."

"Ion know," Jazmin said, "He always been nice to me and my moms…and my bro, if I'm honest. I hope…he ain't gonna shoot you in the head."

"…I'ma….do it over the phone….ion wanna do it in person."

"I'ma be here," Jazmin said, reaching her hand out. Talon clasped it, squeezing it hard as he took a deep, shuddering breath. He got his phone out, giving X-Large a call. It rang and rang and rang. And after the sixth ring, the Lycanroc picked up. Talon could hear the sound of tape being stretched in the background, as if someone was taping up boxes.

"Yo," X-Large said on the other end, "Talon, wassup?"

Talon felt his heart flutter, but he steeled his resolve and began talking, "X, yo. Whatchu up to?"

"…." X looked at his phone, clearly confused, "Nigga…the fuck you callin' for? I'm busy."

"…I…uh…" Talon sighed hard, "Look, man. I ain't cut out for this shit. Like, I'm good at sellin', but I ain't good at shootin'. And honestly, ion think I wanna get caught up deep in this shit no more. I…just tryna make a good life for myself and my baby sis, ya feel me?"

"Okay? You out then young blood," X said, "Ayo, cut up the bodies into bits, nigga."

"They burnt up tho!" Claw shouted back.

"Ion care nigga! Saw 'em up and put em in the fuckin' box. When we done, dump that shit in the Scion River."

"Uh…I'm…out?"

"Yeah cuh. If you ain't about that life, you ain't about that life. Just don't be tryna sell no shit on my turf. Cuz if I catch you, I'ma break yo jaw open."

"Y-yeah man," Talon said, genuinely shocked that X-Large hadn't been angry or vindictive about it.

"Good. Don't call this number again, nigga," X-Large said, hanging up, and joining in on taping up the boxes. Talon, on the other hand, stared at his phone, stunned at how…easy, it ended up being. He looked at Jazmin, who heard the conversation and smiled at him, giving him another long, firm hug. He hugged her back, his eyes wet with relief. Ion never wanna do some shit like that again…I ain't about this life…ion wanna be part of it. He let go of Jazmin, holding her hands as he did.

"Thank you, Jaz," he said quietly, "Thank you."

Jazmin smiled lightly at him. I ain't gonna lose you too, nigga. They stood there in silence for a bit, facing each other. The warm summer air fluttered in through the open window, gently disturbing the cheap curtains. Jazmin was looking down out her shoes while Talon was looking at her. He touched her face, lifting her head up and gave her a kiss. Jazmin kissed back, her eyes closed as she tippy-toed, popping a leg up. She melted into kiss as Talon wrapped his arms around her back, tightly pulling her into him. He continued to kiss her, his eyes closing as he did, gently pushing her against the countertop. Jazmin slowly and reluctantly broke the kiss, smiling at Talon, touching his face.

"You good," she said softly. He nodded at her, kissing again eagerly, taking off her clothes as she wrapped her legs around him.

The summer air became cool again as snow began to fall.

A summery dusk was a lovely sight: the sky was a blend of purples, sea-green and warm oranges. A block party was happening near Section-50 and people danced the evening away, drenched intoxicants to shake off the pain of daily living. The setting sun and rising moon drowned the city in their light, giving the silhouette of the cityscape an unearthly halo of illumination. The palm trees that waved in the light breeze gave Los Lados a touch of the tropical noir.

Strika walked by Section-50 housing projects, watching the people dance and shake their ass to reggae and trap. He smiled a bit, but didn't linger on too long as he walked down the block, his eyes glowing faintly underneath the low light of a dying sun. He passed by the local church, wondering if this where the funeral would be held for Laquan. Strika hadn't formally gone to church or prayed in years. Who needed gods when the material world was all what life had to offer? Through years of evolution, Pokemon were now like humans, but not like them at the same time. They were still marginalized, seen as somewhere between beast and human. And it had not helped if one belonged to oppressed racial groups on top of that. Los Lados was just a small section of the greater world of Scion City that couldn't be reached by those of his ilk. Poverty stared these people in their faces and Strika stared back, wondering how it will all end.

He crossed the street after the walk signal lit up and stuck his hands in his pocket, scanning his surroundings. A combination of the most beautiful aspects of the city and yet the most horrifying. Something caught his eye, however and he increased his pace. He then knelt behind a car, poking his head out. It was the cop who shot Laquan getting in a car with that man he'd seen with Mal Mezzos the first time around: Chandler. He narrowed his eyes and saw them pull off in a black SUV. He stood up, his brow furrowed. He took out his smartphone and swallowed hard. He shot Belilah a text.

Love you.

He then raced after the SUV, keeping a good distance. He followed them through the sparse traffic that was slowly becoming denser and denser. Strika did a sharp hairpin turn—a turn he wasn't the best at because he often lost momentum when he did. But he regained it once more. He continued following the SUV until it reached 21st Avenue. He still kept his distance, crouching behind a parked dark blue van that probably belonged to someone who worked at the pawn shop.

Chandler stepped out of the SUV, a cigar in his mouth as he opened the door for the cop. He looked uncomfortable around Chandler, especially seeing that he lit the cigar by himself, no lighter required. He escorted him into an alley, towards the side entrance into the Red Radisson. Right there, he Strika made up his mind. He took one more deep breath, taking out his phone, taking pictures of the Red Radisson. He texted Jazmin after he finished.

Strika: I love u Jazzy Jolt. Tell ma I love her.

He zipped into the alley, staring at the door. He closed his eyes, tempering his heavy breathing and then pulled it open, walking through. The corridor was dimly lit and didn't smell the best. There was piss stains against the wall but he walked down it, his black Js squeaking softly against the tiled floor. He spotted that girl that was with Mal the first time saw him: Helen Persia. She was passed out in the davenport that was in the corridor. She looked thinner, just like Tessa and he could see the track marks and needle scars on her arm. He looked at her. Hard life, he thought, taking off his hoodie and covering her body with it. He continued down the corridor, looking at the walls. They had scratch marks on the surface, ripping up the paint. Whereas the front of the Red Radisson was smooth, beautiful and seemingly upscale, whatever the hell this was looked badly maintained and off the radar. He crept silently until he reached the room to the left end of the corridor. He slowly opened the ingress, seeing that the cop was sitting with Chandler. Chandler poured the man some liquor while he stuck with a cup of wine.

"I don't know if I can do all that," the cop said.

"Ian," Chandler began quietly, "If you get the department to stop investigating me or my friend Mal, I will help you escape any charges that will be put against you for shooting that kid."

Ian took a sip of the vodka, letting out a strong sigh, "You…can do that?"

Chandler took a pull of the cigar, his yellow eyes glowing lightly behind his shades, "I can do that, yes."

"They aren't even investigating y'all that deeply," Ian said, "It's like, buried, to be honest."

"Buried isn't enough…I want it to cease," Chandler said, "And if you get it to stop, I'll help you. It's as simple as that."

Ian looked at his vodka in the cup, "Well…I'll try. I…didn't mean to shoot that kid. I thought he was going to burn me alive. You know how they are. They're violent…they like fighting, also he was—"

"Tall, dark and scary," Chandler scoffed, "I've heard it before. The same bullshit you do with humans, you do to the darker skinned ones of our species."

"I…I regret it," he said, downing the vodka. Chandler poured him another shot, "But I can't go to jail. I gotta family. I got a newborn. I mean who else gonna take care of 'em?"

Strika's hair bristled as he heard that. Who's gonna fuckin' take care of Laquan you punk bitch.

"I understand," Chandler said, sliding him a dossier, "Just know, I have no interest in going to jail either."

"I'll…see…what I can do," Ian said, taking the dossier, "Thanks. If you could get these charges dropped…the worst I'll get is paid leave for a few weeks. I can deal with that."

"Of course," Chandler said, "Get it done quickly and I'll expedite this. I'll see what my lawyers can do. I could have helped Kit Roak, but he was a fool…"

"Oh, the man who…murdered—"

"Yes. I don't feel like rehashing old shit honestly," Chandler said, "I'm not making a mistake by relying on you, am I?"

"N-no sir."

"Good," he said, holding out his hand to shake. Ian gave him a firm handshake, with a nervous smile.

"Well," Chandler began, getting up, "Let me see you out."

As he began to escort Ian out, he heard the door creak open and the squeaking of sneakers. He turned around. It had been same high school senior he saw that night, with the Bewear woman.

"I see minding your business is not a trait your people value," Chandler sniped. Strika folded his arms.

"Nigga, I heard you," Strika said and looked at Ian, who looked pale-faced and clammy. "I heard both of y'all."

"And?" Chandler scoffed, turning around to lead Ian out. Strika didn't wait. He turned off his phone and the lights began to flicker, then suddenly go blindingly bright as they burst. Chandler looked around, not surprised or impressed. Ian, however, was stunned and too afraid to move. He saw his neon blue eyes glow like a blue dwarf. He doused himself in electrical energy and bolted towards Chandler, sending him flying against the wall. Immediately after he did, he grabbed Ian. The electrical energy went through Ian, paralyzing him for a moment. His teeth clenched in agony as that happened. Chandler got up slowly, feeling the pain of searing electricity run through his body. With that he outstretched his hand, releasing a burst of bluish flames towards Strika. Instinctively, Strika threw Ian into the flames, trying to block himself from being badly burned. Ian screamed as he caught on fire and fell to the ground, thrashing about as the flames consumed his body. The sprinkles went off within seconds, soaking everything. Chandler recoiled, scowling at the water, trying to run to avoid being soaked. But Strika looked up at the sprinklers, smiling to himself. Chandler turned around at him, his eyes wide.

"Ion know much," Strika said, cracking his knuckles, "And ion know fucked up shit you be doing to them girls. Or the fuck shit you tryna do now."

"It isn't your business," Chandler hissed. He slipped and fell as he tried to get to the door, "It has never been your business."

"I'm just a fuckin' hood nigga from Section-77…just tryna get by. Just tryna live my life," Strika shouted after Chandler, grabbing him and throwing him to the floor. Ian's burnt up body was now steaming as the water drenched him as well. "So get this shit straight, my man. You not about to do no more fuck shit…and you ain't about to slide yo way outta this."

Chandler growled, lifting his hand to release another flamethrower, but the water severely weakened him. The flames came out as little spitfires of embers. Strika kicked him again and Chandler glared up at him.

"You're going to find yourself going through hell on Earth very soon," Chandler said.

…You already know how this was gonna end…

"Yeah, nigga? Won't be nothin' new," he said, "But one thing Earth don't need is you."

Chandler scoffed then laughed, "Fuck off, kid."

"It's Strika."

Chandler looked up at him again, seeing his eyes glow brilliantly blue. The whole room surged with electricity, bursting every light bulb and fixture. He let out an inescapable eruption of electricity.

"MY NAME IS FUCKIN' STRIKA!"