Zuri's shock quickly gave way to amusement through a chuckle. Sean studied her reaction intently, wanting to call her bluff. Annoyingly, she was a good actor so much so that Sean questioned if this was an act.
"Better than I assumed..." Zuri admitted begrudgingly.
"The only reason you killed Daniel was because you were desperate to survive and angry. Adrenaline was your friend. Now though... are you really going to kill an innocent girl?" Trying not to flinch, Zuri glared at Sean.
His eyes observant, Sean thought it over. Innocent? I wouldn't count her as innocent? Don't get cocky because you helped me kill Daniel, bitch.
At the sight of his shrinking pupils, Zuri exerted herself.
Bang!
Smoke rose from the muzzle. A cartridge pinged on the floor, bouncing twice before rolling to a standstill. Now, a thumb-sized hole existed in the roof. Zuri's grip on Sean's wrist tightened further, yet Sean displayed no visible pain. A drop of blood dripped down the side of her face.
"... I missed..." Sean said with a sigh. Zuri's rage boiled, arm tensing. Fighting him now, she'd most likely be the victor. She'd humiliate him, show him that he's nothing compared to her. But... if this man had a gun... there's no reason to believe he doesn't have anything else on him... or anything else in this room. Is it really worth all this trouble?
Seething, Zuri released Sean roughly. He rolled his wrist a couple times to achieve some feeling.
"Do you want to fail?" Zuri spat.
"I can do this mission without you. The last thing I need is a blow hard like you." Accepting his failed attempt, Sean holstered his handgun.
"However, it would take a little longer than I'd like to be in this shitty city. I'd rather not see you again, but they won't take you back because I want it. Unfortunately, we're stuck together. I'm your teammate, your equal, not your servant."
Sean turned his back and went to the bathroom. Zuri stared at his back then glanced up at the ceiling. She tapped a couple of fingers into the blood on the side of her face, a scowl forming.
No... I can't just kill him. The Enlightened Agency would see me as a rogue khata and there's no telling who'd I'd have after me. But there's other ways I can pay him back.
"What are we... are you doing then?" Zuri reluctantly queried.
"A plan I should've initiated in the beginning." Sean answered.
~
Bobtailing his tractor, Derek pulled into a gas station to fill up. Before exiting, he patted his side and heard a small clacking, confirming his armament.
Then he recalled his body's current state. It had stopped thrumming with guilt, and it was a lot easier to breathe. Since Derek met Jeanna, he'd always pictured one day that she'd catch on to his life, the bodies and lives he had ripped apart. The inevitability of it all didn't prevent him from working to either erase his footprints or keep them as faint as possible. Close calls occurred here and there, but Jeanna never caught on.
As he went inside the gas station, he picked out a large bag of chips along with a large bottle of raspberry tea. After paying for everything, he walked through the motion sensor doors and nearly dropped his bag.
"What are you doing here?" Derek hid his surprise and tried speaking in a familiar tone.
One hand in his pocket, a middle-aged man with hairy arms and graying hair lifted a hand. He smiled, mouth reaching his ears, but Derek knew it was only for the public. He was clean shaven and his light skin appeared rough. However, his khaki pants and white buttoned-down shirt made him at the least, approachable.
"What's with the short notice?" Derek surmised.
"Too many change of plans. I think my employer's rivals are catching onto us." He said.
The middle-aged man clasped his hands together. Though he acted well rested, Derek believed he could use a couple more hours to regain his full strength.
"How are those gifts I gave you? Any symptoms that I should take note of?"
Derek scanned the area.
"For now, they seem fine..." He hung on one word. Symptoms?
"What symptoms? Does it produce some allergies or something?" Derek's face hardened, hand hovering near his hip.
"Not really anything physically degrading." The answer caused Derek to decompress. Honestly, it's my oversight if there were any symptoms. Ignorance isn't an excuse if they had some reaction and ended up in the hospital... or the ground. That'd be a pathetic way to go.
"So, what do you need my help with Matt?"
He grinned. "There are eyes prying on my work and I'm a stickler for great customer service. So, I'll need your help in tracking these people down."
"Do you know who they are? I'm not a fan of chasing ghosts."
"Yes. A few... 'informants' identified them. Help me to get rid of them and I'll give you two more of those drugs." Matt maintained his bright smile.
~
Drinking from a beer bottle, Big Foot sat lower on the porch stairs while his young cousin supported himself on the porch railing.
The morning's heat lingered from the summer that ended a couple of weeks ago, so he wore a white sleeveless t-shirt and basketball shorts that stopped just above his knees.
Courtesy of whatever Derek had injected him with, Big Foot felt like a million bucks despite his body not undergoing a significant change. Two streets down, he heard a basketball pinging off the concrete. Upstairs, he heard his auntie snoring like a horse.
Subtly, he detected a vehicle's tire mildly screeching to a halt. Boots. The clack of gear and tactical vests.
Eirene soon came into view, hair tied back and eyes squinted because of the sun. Behind her, officer Randall trailed. Big Foot glared at the officers, already formulating reasons to be uncooperative.
"Hey..." Eirene greeted, anticipating hostility as they approached.
"Are... is your guardian home?" Eirene asked further. Big Foot turned his head to the left, then peered at his cousin and motioned for him to go into the house. His cousin obeyed and went inside.
"What's the problem?" Big Foot asked.
"We need to ask your guardian some questions regarding the house." Randall spoke up.
"I've been in this house all my life. What's suspicious about that?" Big Foot accused. He stood, still holding the beer bottle.
"Please sit back down." Eirene gradually pressed on air, but Big Foot refused.
"How old are ya?" Randall held his vest straps as he positioned himself in a shadow of the house to avoid the sun's rays.
"That's not your concern, sir." Big Foot stated.
Distinctly, he smelled bullets, gun oil, the scent of law enforcement gear that permeated. Shit. I don't have my piece. But it's not like I can beat them in a gun fight anyway. I'd rather not test my draw speed. Shifting between the two officers, Big Foot let the silence remain.
Underestimating a police officer's investigative capabilities was ignorant. Eventually, Big Foot felt that whatever they'd ask his auntie, it'd lead to questions that would implicate him. And his auntie saw no problem talking with law enforcement.
Chucking the bottle down, Big Foot leapt and knocked Eirene to the ground.
"Stop!" Randall started pursuing him. Eirene spoke into her hand radio to call for backup and describe the suspect.
With each step, Big Foot gained distance, the officer's pants slowly fading as he twisted and pivoted through alleys and different streets. He heard sirens and frantically looked around. Shit! Shit! It's not like I can call them.
He stiffens. Is no one shooting at me? Sounds a ways off. Who is it? A Neon Noble? Some suicidal fucker? Big Foot hears handgun caliber bullets, drawing officers to respond to someone else. Thank goodness. Who's the dumbass who decided to get into a shootout with the cops? I shouldn't complain...
~
Recovered, Eirene speaks into her hand radio. "Randall, where are you?!" She started dashing toward the gunfire, drawing her duty pistol.
"Not too far! ... On Hilton Avenue!" His voice came over.
Arriving at the scene, Eirene briskly crouched and concealed herself behind some bushes. She peeked out and saw a figure. Light skinned and an average build, but he was too far for her to finalize details.
A bullet hit the concrete near her, and she retreated behind concealment once more. Eirene huffed and dashed toward cover. Once she spotted Randall, she yelled out.
"You hurt?"
"No!"
"I'm gonna go around!" Eirene hopped up and leaped a fence, going out of sight. Randall briefly poked his head out and shot a few times before retreating back.
A few more shots sounded off as she made her way closer. In under a minute, she arrived at the supposed location of the shooter, but she paused. Where... where is he? Down the street, police cars arrived and Randall looked ahead safely, seeing his partner safe and confused.
~
Carrying several boxes, Isha brought them from the back and set them on the purchase counter. Meticulously, she scanned the barcodes and carried them to their designated shelves, noting the shoe sizes and their appearance.
A few were stripped with black. Some were completely white except the bottom. A couple rare ones were colored with yellow and pink, a distasteful combination to most customers and Isha herself.
Henry drank a bottled dark soda. Around the campus, Isha heard a few students mention that that particular soda was better than its rival beverage considering it couldn't be used to clean corrosion off a car battery.
After making a final scan, Isha reached for her phone.
"Isha." Henry called out gruffly.
"Yes sir?"
"Go ahead and head out. I've got the rest."
"Are you sure?" Isha stood and smoothed out her clothes. "I'd rather you not..."
"I have nothing else to do tonight so it's fine. Also, don't you have some more studying to do? You're a damn good worker but I'm not trying to keep you here."
Smiling, Isha sighed.
"Alright, I'll see ya Thursday." Isha exited the store, waving at Henry. Under streetlamps, Zuri followed the sidewalk that led to her apartment. A few birds landed on a powerline, chirping excitedly. Parking lots were near empty, and storefronts began flipping their signs to 'close' as they organized and got ready for the next day.
Grunting? Is someone struggling or something? Isha's mind flooded with possibilities of either gang activity, or a common criminal. Either one, Isha didn't want to involve herself. Often, turning a blind eye kept her alive in the area she grew up in. If witnessing wasn't an option, silence also proved effective.
Bang!
Immediately, Isha burst into a sprint, heaving and keeping her head low. In front of her, a man whose face she couldn't see groaned as he struggled to his feet. Along with his dark skin, he had a prominent beard. On his arm were two scrapes that peeled the first layer of skin.
Searching frantically, Isha hid on the edge of an alley between a gallery and an insurance store.
"Damn... kid." The prominent bearded man took out his handgun and ran toward the fray. A few feet ahead, Isha witnessed two figures engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Their stomps into the concrete making it crack a little. A fist bent a streetlight's pole echoing with a clang. Who the fuck are these people?
Hearing her heart and feeling her body tremble, Isha slammed a fist into her legs twice before peeking out, her chest rising and falling quicker than normal.
At the small opportunity, Isha ran, swinging her arms as tears flew to the ground. Gunshots rang out. She felt a brush on her shoulder but repressed the urge to check. For a moment, she turned her head at the fight and she nearly stopped.
Dreads flying up, a boy kicked a middle-aged man across the ground. Their eyes made contact for a millisecond, before she withdrew her glance and focused on reaching her apartment. Was that... did I see red?
Once Isha reached the safety of her apartment, she slammed the door shut and took out her phone, dialing the three-digit emergency number.