Author's Rant: Thank you everyone for your support!
Tip of the Ice Berg
These new crops of candidates were handling the initiation a little too easily for Akefia's tastes. He and Valon were in charge of this month's newest line of runners; mostly made of up groups of adolescents and young adults wanting in on the Red Eye family. The numbers were increasing weekly from the usual four, to ten or twelve a pop. There were actually up to seventeen teenagers and young adults recruited this week alone. By the end of the month, the next set of runners would total forty-seven.
Near the Domino City's pier was where the first stage of testing took place. Valon was out there coaching the new meat through the necessary beating they'd have to live through first. The older and more experienced members of the Red Eyes, mostly volunteers, were dishing out severe beatings as a test of strength, endurance and ability to deal with a tough situation. The one-sided fights would last five minutes and that was plenty of time to earn your first cracked rip, broken nose or bloody whatever.
The only confusing factor here was, Akefia wasn't getting that sense of thrill that came with witnessing these kids slink away like wet puppies. The usual screams weren't punctuating the air as much, their grunts were too short and the way they huddled into themselves with their arms folded and their legs flared out, defined no kind of fear.
His index finger idly tapped the handle on his gun while he debated over whether he should listen to his instincts or ignore his paranoia. Something just wasn't playing off right tonight.
Maybe he was feeling off because of the last street brawl. He hadn't felt as secure around his gang family as he used too because most of these guys he didn't know. There were too many faces, so little knowledge about their past. It was bugging him. He narrowed his lavender eyes and fingered over the trigger when his phone started humming in his back pocket.
Akefia answered without taking his eyes away from the show. "Yeah?"
"Are you going to be late coming home again? It's well after eleven."
Akefia grinned at his little brother's worried tone. "I know. After we finish up here, I'll come home. Did you cook?"
"I did, but it's nothing too fancy. Just smothered lamb, steamed potatoes and buttered cabbage."
"Shit," Akefia fiercely swore with a lack of heat. "You could've waited 'til I got home to fix that."
"I was hungry now," Ryou playfully drawled. "My stomach refused to wait any longer and there was no telling when you'd get here." Hesitation, then, "By the way, Mum and Dad called."
"Oh yeah?" Akefia, feeling a familiar conversation brew, retrieved a napkin full of grape-flavored Swisher Sweets cigarillos and a Ziploc full of dark sticky herbs. He turned around to the hood of his Suburban to start filling the wrapping with cut up Purp.
"Akefia?"
"Yeah, I'm here," the older brother roughly grunted. "What'd they want?"
"Just to talk, to you, really. They miss us being home. They're," Ryou cleared his throat, "worried about us. Dad says he's coming here by the end of the year to finalize the sale on the house. He wants me to attend college in London. . . he wants you to come home too."
Akefia snorted.
"He does," Ryou insisted. "Mum's asked about you too, Ake'. I don't understand why you shut them out so much."
"'Cause I don't have much to say, for real. Been busy."
"Running the streets hardly qualifies as a liable excuse."
This made Akefia pause in his rolling up. "I'm running the streets to keep food on the table for us."
"Which you don't have to do! Dad sends us the money we need to pay for our accommodations. He's worried about us."
"You mean they're worried about you. Mum and Daddy, already made it clear they ain't trying to keep a son who got one of their favorites killed."
"That's not true," Ryou sounded very hurt. "They love you too."
"I'm gone."
"Akef—"
Akefia hung up. He wasn't trying to hear that noise. He couldn't understand why Ryou refused to leave the issue alone. Akefia knew the truth and no amount of wishing, hoping and denial was going to resolve anything. The sense of bitterness shun off his parent's like sunlight through a thunderstorm. His parents had secretly blamed him for years over Bakura's death. They'd created plenty of scenarios where Akefia could've done a better job of keeping up with his baby brother or how he could've saved Bakura if he'd just done this or that. Don't they know that shit still ate him up to this day? Why do they think he tried so hard to make sure Ryou was well-guarded twenty-four hours of the day, seven days a week?
Missed him, his ass. That was bullshit. They missed their high-school-perfect son, not their delinquent mistake. Akefia wouldn't mind his baby brother going back home to London. He could go, but Akefia wasn't stepping foot there. He had a home and it was right here in Domino protecting the family that accepted him, flaws and all.
It was within the dawning hours of a new morning, the sky offering up an pearly glow as the moon slowly began to recede and the sun began to peak over the horizon, when Atem awoke with an instinctive start. His arms firmed with an automatic urgency to assure himself that they were still full of a slighter body.
There was a dull sense of relief ringing deep in his mind; something that he hoped would dissolve quickly with time. His innards twisted in an anxious bundle of knots as he grimly touched over his daughter's cotton clothed back, fingers grabbling and releasing over every part of her body as if to familiarize himself with a detached doll. How long would it take before he was able to let her go?
He hadn't let her go, not once, since they arrived home. Atem shut off his cell, his only direct line to his gang family and blood family, so that his entire focus solely belonged to the slumbering child in his arms. Her heartbeat was slower, calm and tranquil, synced harmoniously with her father's. It was a warming contrast of great contentment when his faster pulses were answered in between her own.
He'd changed out of his dirty attire and showered, washing away the anxiety of yesterday. Kisara never left his arms. He worked every motion with her there, doing upon her what he did to himself; showering, eating, resting, and silence. She fell asleep as soon as Atem reclined on the sofa, cradling her like delicate snow in the spring.
Minutes whisked passed him, missed and unnoticed. His hum was a feeble and so distant that he wouldn't have known he was humming at all if he didn't know himself. That he hummed at all was one of those things not many people would associate with the Blue Eyes leader, but it came with those rare, unseemly times he could truly say he was happy.
He had his daughter home, safely locked in his arms. Nowhere on earth was more secure then where she was now.
Atem had more than the efforts of his family to thank for that.
Yugi . . .
Yami . . .
Regardless of their rejection, the street bonds were sound. Any flavor done upon another was an automatic contract written in stone until that flavor was fulfilled with something of equal or greater value. In this case, Kisara's life was the bonded factor. Money would be a foolish jest to give either Yami or Yugi. Yami had his own and Yugi's pride was bound to put Atem back on unleveled grounds with the teen.
Nothing materialistic would do. Not now anyway. He had to do something to compensate their intentions, however forced they may have been. Sentimental displays of any kind were out of the question.
He needed something, a way of showing his appreciation and maintaining his legion to his blue blood ways. Atem, thinking in the midst of his hums, stretched his arm and shifted to waken the numb vibrations in his legs.
Atem closed his eyes and settled more comfortably against the leather cushions. For a while longer, he felt his exhaustion drift in and out of his body. His nose tickled with the frills of pearly white hair. The warmth was bewilderingly soothing . . .
"Daddy?"
Kisara was finally awake.
He didn't make a move as the child snuggled up under his chin, fingers tangled in his oversized long tee. When she relaxed, Atem reached out to grab Kisara's sides, massaging his presence through the Disney-princess-printed pajama set. Kisara's eyelashes fluttered on his neck and she curled inward, greedily seeping at his body heat. Then she let out a light sigh, "Daddy, you sleep?"
"Not quite." Atem swallowed through the block of sand choking him. Hearing her voice was enchanting Kisara had slept for most of the time they'd been home. It was good to hear her sweet words. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yep, like a bear." She snuggled some more. Then said, "You still love me, Daddy?" Her words were slurred due to lingering tiredness, but there was no mistaking the low tone of worry.
"Daddy always will."
"But I was bad."
Atem ducked his head, resting his cheek on her brow. "Daddy does bad things too. You still love me, don't you?"
"Yes."
Atem let the mild sternness fade out of him and ease his finger under Kisara's chin. She went with the encouraging finger to face her father's sharp feathers and narrow eyes.
"Daddy should be angry with you, you should be punished for scaring me like that." He tilted her chin higher. Tears threatened to gather in the corner of her eyes. Well, Atem couldn't help that now could he? "I nearly lost my mind looking for you. Do you have any idea what losing you would do to me?"
Atem stared at her. Kisara looked back, bottom lip quivering in a way that she only did when she thought she lost of her father's love forever. But her face, more like her grandmother's than his own, remained strong and brave.
"I couldn't live on, baby girl. My heart hurt so much to see you gone," Atem said, with a gentle vulnerability he never imagined his own voice was capable of. He leafed his fingers under her neck, along her cheeks and across her eyes, concentrating on her sui generis features, round, elegant and perfect beyond her years. He kissed everywhere his fingers trailed away until they came to find her microscopic hand fisting in his shirt. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it too. No harm had come to her. None. He couldn't thank God enough for keeping her perfect.
"I'm sorry. . . I promise I won't be bad anymore." Kisara sniffled. "I didn't mean to make a boo boo."
Atem sighed. "My heart is healed, my lovely child. But don't you know how much it beats for you?"
Kisara's eyes shone like the sun. He smiled, so very soft and full of an adoration that stole a sob from her throat. Kisara buried her face away to hide her tears and quietly wept, gratified with worlds of relief that her daddy still loved her.
Of course he would.
"You were the family I needed. You were everything—damn it, I only lived for you two."
Atem chuckled bitterly. How long would it be until that particular whisper vanished from his mind? Seems to be the day for momentary weakness, doesn't it? Raking his fingers over hair finer then silk, Atem cast longing glances at his ceiling, spiked like dribbling silicone. Was he still the beating pulse of that man, he wondered. Could he still cause to reached a new platform, make it race with want and desire.
Perhaps, two heartbeats?
Atem would certainly find out.
The school bell just rang, signaling the early morning class switch. The halls were unusually packed more then capacity that came with a few absent students to balance the size. It seemed every student ever recorded in Domino City High was here today. Candid voices bounced off the walls, booming all over the campus as accurate as if every individual voice was speaking through a megaphone.
This sudden increase in the student body could hardly count as everyone actually missing school. Yugi snorted. He even saw classmates he'd assuredly thought had dropped out of school a year prior.
They were all here to catch up on the latest update about what happened a couple of days ago. Not that the gang activities haven't been advertised on the news already. They just preferred to dabble in the more intriguing thrill that rumors and gossip created. The student's who openly paraded their involvement in the gunfire gladly replayed every gruesome detail of what went down, even stretching the truth until it strained like a rubber band on the brink of snapping.
He heard his name mentioned quite a bit during his journey to Locker 37B. Yugi wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of indulging their curiosity. Let them talk about whatever they wanted. He just wanted to forget it ever happened and move on. After locking in his combination, Yugi shrugged off his uniform blazer and shoved it inside along with the textbooks of his last class. It was hotter than usual today. Yugi undid two buttons, loosened the collar around his neck and considered untucking his tailored shirt.
"So, is it true?"
Yugi bristled and relaxed in a single motion. He wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment, though curdled shame was part of it. He felt stupid for thinking he could prolong this confrontation and felt even dumber for not keeping a better watch on his surroundings.
"Yeah, partially," he said to the side of his locker door. "Not everything you've heard in the gossiped through the grapevine is true though."
"That's not my style. I'd rather hear straight from the horse's mouth." The intruder shrugged. "But what I don't get is why you were even there when I vaguely remember you saying you would have anything to do with them. Ever"
Yugi dipped his head down. After a moment, he nodded and shut his locker door. Tristan was on the other side of it, wearing his blazer gapped open and his tailored shirt untucked and unbuttoned entirely to show his white t-shirt underneath. His profile was all he was offering, but the side facing Yugi was chiseled so strongly with disappointment, Yugi could've mistaken his friend for a garden statue.
Yugi glanced up at him through his bangs. "I'm sorry."
Tristan blew hard. "I got that part already. You are sorry, but that's not enough. I want you to admit how much a liar you are too." He kicked of the wall lockers and started down the hall.
Yugi followed suit, head ducked down, hands gripping the straps of his book bag. "I had no choice," he whispered for Tristan's ears only.
"You have plenty of choices," Tristan said sharply. "The police are a good place to start. There's the Army too. I heard they don't mind defending citizens when they're not overseas. Hell, the fire department's got nothing better to do 'cept eat subs. And then there's me!"
The brunet abruptly spun around. He was met with defiant purple eyes instead of the submissiveness he would expect from someone who knew they were in the wrong. Yugi's gaze echoed anything but regret. Tristen became livid.
"Don't you care? Why didn't you call me?" He managed to break his voice over the herd of students in the hall. "Why'd I have to hear from a bunch of freshman that my best friend nearly got himself killed?"
"Because telling you hadn't been my main priority at the time," Yugi said, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "I would've told you eventually."
"Before or after you fucked these guys?"
Yugi's face refashioned itself in a scowl. "I'm not talking to you when you're like this." He stepped around the brunet's flabbergasted self and continued down the halls. Pressure like boiled metal nailed into his shoulders suddenly.
His back was slammed against the locker wall, the clamoring sound of rattled metal acting like a whistle blown in a room of players. Every student within hearing range stopped and two more stopped because they stopped. The entire hall was at a standstill, eyes wide and peeled for the next mode of action to take place. The shock of seeing the school's best baseball players and friends at each other's throats was enough to give anyone pause.
Yugi gritted his teeth as the ridged metal started biting into his back. His eyes compressed until a slither of dark purple combated with the fire in sable brown eyes. Their faces were inches apart, hot breath and frustration flaring from their nostrils. Tristan pulled back his hand to point his finger in Yugi's face, mouth balled tight. He opened and closed his mouth every time it was on the verge of spouting angry words.
For the third rough time in their friendship, Yugi had to bear witness to the undeniably deep anguish in Tristan's brown eyes. He was the cause of it, that emerging surface of hurt and dismay. Yugi looked away first. Tristan's grip died off to a light grasp then fell away completely. He shook his head and turned to leave, the hall of spectators parting way. Yugi felt his insides crumble like an avalanche, just as cold and unsteady.
The moment of surprise was short lived when a squeal down the way renewed the crowd's interests.
Yugi blinked as the swish of students started parading down the halls to gather near a window panel, opening out to the schoolyard. School went by like a blur of colorations. His lessons were muffled, dulled to the roar of aggravation. Tristan made himself scarce throughout the classes, sitting as far from Yugi as possible. Yugi needed, wanted someone to talk to about this strain. Ryou was MIA, one of the few students who decided to take an extra leave from school, so that left little to no one for Yugi to convey his issues with. By the end of the school, Yugi had already decided he'd skip practice. His arm wasn't up for the swings, thanks to Tristan's loving jolt against the wall.
And Yugi couldn't blame him. Tristan had every right to discard their friendship like it was worthless trash. Hadn't Yugi been treating their relationship like that since he showed little respect for the usual bro-code of sharing your problems and secrets with one another?
"Shit." Yugi massaged the base of his eyes as he wandered through the double doors. His mind was flooded with ways to explain to Tristan that his intentions with the leaders were reasonable, when the unmistakable description of a certain someone reached his ears.
"Girl, check him out. Mercy, he could lite fire to wet grass, he's so fine!"
"Is that a 2014 Chrysler 300."
"So?"
"So? That shit's fly! I don't seeing you riding something that fierce."
"Who is he?"
"Hell if I know, but I need to ask 'em who did the paintjob. I ain't ever seen that kind of blue on a car."
"Love the hair. Wonder if he got the idea from Muto."
The huddle of students chuckled at the mild joke. Yugi wasn't laughing. He wasn't slightly amused when he saw Atem standing by one of his toys and looking every bit as lethal as a jungle panther behind those Gucci shades. Never one to look less than a million dollar model, he was dressed in turquoise Gucci polo shirt tucked in a pair of low riding jeans, and high top white Converse shoes.
Yugi didn't let that lucid grin stop his marching. He had no idea what Atem was up to, and frankly, he could give a few damns. He was still steaming from his and Tristan's confrontation earlier this morning and fussing at Atem just might be the remedy to cure Yugi's attitude.
Atem slid away from his car after sighting his intended target. He slowly walked around the front of the Chrysler, coming to stop on the other side and leaned back against the passenger door with his arms folded over his chest. The sides of his eyes crinkled behind his shades as he took in one of his daughter's saviors.
"You've got to be kidding me," Atem heard the teen grumble when he was twenty feet away. A brief instant, he stilled where he was, his eyes tearing away to look at the surrounding sea of witnesses. He looked torn between greeting or yelling or attempting to make it known that he was acquainted with Atem at all. Whatever confliction raced across his face was resolved within seconds because Yugi continued his stomping and stopped two feet back. Just in arm's reach.
"What are you doing here?"
Funny. Atem frowned slightly at the weak question, taking a moment to study the teen before him. His eyes narrowed in displeasure as he noted the discoloration beneath Yugi's purple eyes. That greeting didn't hold the flare of heat Atem had been expecting. Yugi didn't just looked tired. He sounded tired too.
Yugi made an impatient sound, his eyes stretched and eyebrows high. "Hello? Are you going to answer or standing here posing for all my classmates? Unless you don't mind coming off as a pedophile. By all means, stand here looking like someone's sugar daddy."
"Sugar daddy?" Cute. That was cute. Atem glanced around him at the starry-eyed fan club piling in on top of one another. Their smiles were lecherously illegal. He could practically smell the stink of sex rolling off their dicks and pussies. "I can assure you; I had only positive intentions of coming here to see you. I wasn't expecting such a," Atem made a show of looking around himself at the disturbing winks and giggles, "spirited welcome, though if I am coming off as pimp, that won't vote well for you since we're talking like you owe me money."
Atem held out his hand, palm cupped opening motioning a gimme gesture that had all types of misleading interpretations.
Yugi's lips twisted to the side as he drummed his fingers over his book bag straps. He cracked a small smile. "How's Kisara?"
"Doing good. She's at home resting. Baby girl's strong. She'll pull through this."
"You don't think a child would be traumatized after going what she went through?"
"You gotta remember whose child she is." Atem tapped his wrist, grinning. "It runs in her veins, instincts and adjustment to any situation. She gets that from me as well as her grandparents."
"She's still a little girl. I can't help, but worry."
"That's why she likes you so much. I appreciate your concern." Atem dipped his shades down low enough to deliver a wink and pushed them back over his eyes. He was gratified with the red rouse on Yugi's ears. "I have something for you."
Yugi blinked. "Something for—Oh, no! No, you don't have to. I'm no good at taking gifts."
"I insist." Atem was already slipping his hand in his back pocket. "It's yours. I have one for Yami as well."
"Is this to repay that favor?"
"No, and shame on me if I were so boring." Atem withdrew yellow folded sheets of construction paper and passed them to Yugi. "This is my daughter's way of saying thank you."
Yugi took it. Kisara was all the motivation he needed to hear. There were three sheets, each colored and draw with a different kind of material: Markers, crayons and finger paints. But they all had the same ideal universe. There were flowers, vibrantly drawn flowers with oversized petals, wiggly stems and crooked benches. Yugi squinted his eyes when he noticed there were three characters. The one with the squished body was obviously him holding hands with a round headed Kisara. Atem, who's face resembled a moon pie, was sitting on a half-finished bench and . . . next to him was another person.
Yugi tilted his head. The face was colored with a peach crayon and the hair had a bunch of yellow squiggles. Was this? Ah. Yugi had to smile at this. "She drew Yami too."
"She did."
"She remembered him?"
Atem tipped his head to the side. "Yes and she has an interesting way of labeling strangers."
"What did she call him?"
"The man with sad eyes."
"Oh." Out of the mouths of babes. Hm. Yugi wondered if Yami would show. "This is an invite to the park, right? When do you want me to show?"
Atem lifted an eyebrow. "Are you saying you'll come?
Yugi's brows rose to his hairline before dipping into a frown. "Of course. I wanna see how she's doing. I still owe her a date after skipping out on the last one I promised."
"Excellent. We'd like that." Atem looked at Yugi, and his eyes were direct in a way that made Yugi remember their talk about possessiveness from their dinner date. His smile was genuine and less demanding. Perhaps, that's why Yugi wasn't as cautious of it as Atem would've expected him to be. "I'm only asking. Don't feel obligated to come if you don't feel up to it. I can understand how much you've been through."
"No, no, I don't mind." Yugi stuffed the artwork in his pocket. "I'd love to. Really, I want to see her again."
"We'll be waiting Friday afternoon after school. Same park, same time as the first." Atem reached out before Yugi could react, with one hand and trailed his fingers along Yugi's face, pausing so that he could touch the bony portion of his jawline. Yugi winched, but the motion didn't retract his face from the touch.
"Really Yugi, I owe you."
"It was nothing."
The caressing fingertips eased to the blunt point of Yugi's chin, curled under and lifted. Atem removed his sunglasses. He wanted there to be no barriers preventing Yugi from seeing the seriousness evident in the best way to relay his emotions, which were through the intense shade of his eyes.
"Risking your life for the sake of a Blue Eye's child, is hardly nothing. We take pride in our children. They are, after all, the solid foundation that will keep our line secure. I declare such actions as something worth recognizing. You've already caught my eye once, this is the second time."
Yugi gave him a floundering look, confusion etched deeply into his features. "Wouldn't any sane man do the same thing?"
"A greedy man maybe, because he'd know what kind of rewards he was entitled too. You're not such a man, Yugi. I know you helped her because you truly care." Atem slipped his shades back on, saucy grin in place. He clipped Yugi's chin and backtracked to the driver's side. "That's more than enough to earn my trust."
Atem was in his car and gone before Yugi could say something passed the pleasant warm gathering in the pit of his stomach.
"You're welcome."
A crash of some kind resonated in the distance that sent a panicking jolt to his stomach. He'd been waiting over an hour since he got the call. This was straight bullshit in his opinion, being neck-deep in the Blue Eye's turf dressed like this. He craned his neck over the backseat for the third time, surveying the saturated block of goons displaying their colors like Confederate soldiers. There were twenty, maybe about thirty foot soldiers patrolling their own beat, scouring for fiends and anyone showing off the tiniest stitch of red on their bodies.
All was quiet save for the occasion humming vehicles and scattered conversations floating from several fiends stationed on street corners. He wet his lips and blew an agitated sigh. Not that he was scared or anything, but Atem had eyes and ears in every tight corner of North Domino and the slightest imperfection on his land was reported. That kind of drama wasn't in his plans for tonight.
He checked his rear view mirror and caught the front grill of a peculiar platinum silver 2003 Acura cruising from behind. The person shimmied low in his seat in case this wasn't the appointment that called for him to be out here. It was a different car every time.
The car paused and parked parallel his. Several moments pasted before the headlights dimmed off and the engine was cut. He hoped this was his appointment he was supposed to meet. Otherwise, this street was about to be set ablaze. He wasn't scared of Atem's men, but he'd be damned if he was taken out like a bitch.
The driver's side of the Acura popped open and a femininely slender framed man appeared, wearing a pin striped yellow Hugo Boss button down and pressed chocolate slacks. He'd been suspicious about meeting this guy simply because of how well rounded his name was around town. What would a high roller want with a street bug when he could buy a car lot with the snap of his finger? The person wasn't feeling the whole sit up since they made the first few deals.
The pay was good, but not at the expense of his life. Their under-the-radar meetings have been going on for weeks with minimum failure per operation. The guy didn't quite get the concept. He just did what he was hired for. However, as the list of victims to assassin grew higher, the more dangerous it became. He kept a grinding grip on his 9mm, fingers drumming over the handle.
Zigfried knocked on the passenger six times, two short, three sharp and one soft, as was their usual gesture for identification. The lavender haired man dipped inside the vehicle, long legs having to bend inward to accommodate the lack of space in the Kia.
"Did you take care of it?"
The guy lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "I always hold up on my end." An ACER laptop was retrieved from the backseat and flipped open, illuminating the dark interior in pristine white. Beefy fingers drilled over the keyboard for five relentless minutes until the screen showed forty bank account pop-ups. "Six percent per account, per bank, per name, just like you asked." Though the six percent only part still puzzled him. They had had a prime chance of draining the gangs dry, but Zigfried only wanted to filter the banks of six percent.
"Excellent and you've already positioned your men?" Zigfried said, eyes brilliant with nefarious delight.
The person folded his laptop and returned it to the back seat. "Not quite, you see there's a bit of snag we need to have fixed before going any further." The man coolly draped his arm over the passenger's headrest, gaze low and lethal.
"Such as?" Zigfried urged.
"The police are flooding the streets left and right, taking everybody in colors off the street. I can't afford to have any of my men ripped off. That's loss money on my end."
Zigfriend blinked. "They should be able to continue infiltrating without detection. If they can't handle a minor confrontation with authorities, you've clearly hired the wrong recruits for this line of work."
"My men can get the job done outside of incarceration. I need Zane to lay off the heat just for a few hours to position the rest of my crew."
"I can deal with Zane. He'll keep his squads out for another two days and pull back. Whether he's willing to admit it or not, he needs the Mediums patrolling the streets. We're able to wedge deeper fears in Yami and Atem, where the police cannot."
"That doesn't erase my people of their radar."
"Sacrifices are meant to be made before an experiment is fully achieved," said Zigfried. "Understand that you're contracted into this deal and it was clearly stated in the fine print, regardless of circumstantial losses." Zigfried warily eyed his companion with a critical once-over, taking in the forest green pullover, jet-black cargo-sweatpants and Army issued combat boots. "Am I under the impression that you're not up for the job anymore?"
The man cracked a crooked smirk. "If the money's right, you don't have to worry."
"Fine answer." Zigfried reached inside his pocket for a neatly wrapped bundle of bills. He loosened the tape and leafed through the thick stack like the sheets from a novel. Half the stack was peeled off and handed over. "This is to cover your next assignment."
This was about a quarter more of what the man was used to being paid. "Must be serious."
"It is," Zigfried calmly assured. "I have a very special task for you, specifically one that your men cannot participate in."
"OK?"
"You're aware that Atem has a young daughter, correct?"
The man thought a moment, brow furrowed and eyes partially widened. "I heard the rumors, but I never knew it was true. Why?"
Zigfried reached in his pocket a second time, pulling out a hand-sized laminated sheet of paper. "This is her." He passed the picture over for examination.
The man took it, eyes casually dancing over the five-year-old's impossibly fair porcelain skin and large, sweet Egyptian blue eyes. They were so large and so round, one could easily drown by glance alone. Her salmon pink lips were fixed in a smile as she stared off at a herd of children stampeding down the school steps, wearing the same uniform as her. Her long white hair fell like a meteor shower down her back.
The man lightly whistled under his breath. "Cute kid." He handed the picture back. "So, what she gotta do with me?"
"Simple, that child is the key to cleansing this city of the filth it's accumulated over the years. In order for a new chain of command to be established, I'll need you to take her out."
The man bristled, the first sign of discomfort he's shown since meeting Zigfried. There hadn't been a doubt in his mind that Zigfried was on some type of vendetta streak since they met because of all the crafty shit he had him doing. Though this time, this was the craziest mission he'd ever had to do.
"You want me," the man pointed at himself, "to kill a child?"
"Will that be a problem?"
"Nah, I can do it. I'm just sayin', she's Atem's kid. That kind of shit don't come cheap."
"You can expect to be handsomely reminbursed for whatever extra labor this may cause you," Zigfried was quick to guarantee without missing a beat.
"Alright," the man answered after a moment collecting silence. "When you want it done?"
Zigfried's grin split his face in half. "Soon, very, in fact, but it's got to be done by a certain date. When you take care of this mission, this," he gestured to the money already given, "as well as the rest of money owed to you, will be transferred to your account that same evening."
The man's grin matched Zigfried's sickening smirk. "How you wanna do it?"
"Good man, that's what I want to hear. Follow my instructions carefully. We need to stage this just right . . ."
TBC: Nothing but pure Mobiumshipping from here on out. If any of you have the time, could you vote on the next Mobiumshipping story you'd be interested in reading after Fragile and Celestial Congo are complete? Thank you.
Also if you're ever looking for a mobiumship story to indulge in besides my own, check out Sulfur Dusk's story, The Boy with the Black Sweater. It's a very interesting read. ^_^