"Valerya, how are you feeling?" I mutter, not turning my head towards her. She murmurs that she's somewhat hungry, and I concur after hearing her stomach protest a bit. Valerya grins delicately as I compliment her on her planning with setting off that first, subtle bomb.
My sister and I hide our infamous faces in the darkness of our hoodies as we attempt to cross the street to the club ahead of us.
I would prefer not to be here. Bodies squeezing together, some unintentionally, others granulating like humankind has been all but died off, and no one but they can repopulate. It's hot in here, and I'm sweating profusely, not that it was just me, essentially everybody here is working up a sweat by simply standing. I loathe this, it feels gross and the music that is beating my ears up, is blasting loud to the point where individuals are hollering to have a normal discussion with each other. Individuals of both sexual orientations are rubbing into me awkwardly, to such an extent that I nearly think this is an indirect orgy. Most everybody in here is intoxicated, and I'm attempting to get myself plastered too, in light of the fact that everything is, by all accounts, so sweet when you are, also that a few men disgustingly endeavored to "dance" with me, yet I figured out how to get away from them.
At long last, not able to get wasted after my eighth or ninth alcoholic beverage, I finally choose to leave, being a heavyweight drinker. This was truly the best way to get to the hideout without an excessive amount of notice, however I completely overlooked my scorn in humankind and being touched by somebody other than myself. I toss a can of beer in a close-by trashcan and leave the building, my sister clinging to me firmly. I sigh heavily, attempting to recall the last time I really got drunk. It hurts to think, so I forget about it and start walking far from the trashy club. My legs feel overwhelming, maybe I'm actually plastered?
My unstable hands and hazy vision are one serious combo as I bumble with the keys in my pocket. It's not much sooner when I've come back to the universe of reality and I squint a couple times. I can't generally move for a moment, attempting to conquer an influx of queasiness and overpowering torment in the back of my head.
I solidify when something brushes my shoulder, so it doesn't take me long to understand there's somebody who saw us especially. I jolt back, aside. The blow was intended for my jaw, but however whizzed by in a blur of knuckles. From the corner of my eye, I saw my rival's other arm begin an upward direction. I ducked this time, and felt my hair ruffle with the force of it.
Drop to the floor. Move clear, stand. Try not to give him a chance to interface. Coax it out.
The outsider charged with a roar like rumbling thunder. I evaded, spun to face him. My adversary thrusted. I maintained a strategic distance from one flying clenched hand, just to crash into another.
The brush bucked my rib cage, a sharp sting blurring quick. Before me, the man smiled and punched again at my midriff.
Block. Push away. Back off.
Avoidance was basic, yet it couldn't keep going forever. The man needed activity. He appeared to have sought retribution. Minutes go with no contact, and I felt weight radiating from all sides, sort of like a kind of serenade: punch-kick-strike-hurt. But I was crazy so of course I thought of it like that. The man must’ve saw this is as an everyday fight that he might often have after getting exceptionally drunk. I could smell the alcohol radiating off of him.
I went on the offense, getting progressively irritated. I lashed out, going for my rival's gut. The outsider demonstrated a similarly powerful defensive tactic, and my clenched hand met a meaty forearm. I attempted again with both hands—one-two, exclusively, a system—and I finally got him, which felt like punching flesh-covered steel. Not so fun.
The man moved, damned quick. So quick that I just about missed seeing it. My body appeared to respond all alone, without cognizant thought. I slid on his right side, opposite to the direction he had been hovering as the man surged me by and by. My vision obscured as the fight continued.
The man tossed a beer bottle with his left hand, trying to hook my left leg with his own, attempting to toss me to the ground. I turned forward and on my right side, hitting my left hand against the center of my adversary's back as he slid past. The blow got my adversary between his shoulder blades. I felt the body armor underneath the man's uniform flex inwards. I thump a couple of more blows straightforwardly onto his spine, then range a foot up and strike the back of his head. When he's totally down, I quickly punch the back of his neck, hear a lethal split, and get up. It’s bloody cold, looking at the man buried in snow. I sneeze and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Some blood spreads over my fair skin, however I'm not pestered by it. I rub my bruising knuckles and choose to withdraw over into the club and sit tight for my escort in any case.
Not even fifteen minutes pass and a tall, lean male about my age approaches and grins welcomingly. He was exceptionally inviting for my situation. We sort of grew up together. He moves past the group and looks to my sister with a well-mannered expression, to tenderly stroke her smooth cheek. She returns the action by carefully pressing into his hand. They were practically brother and sister.
“What happened to you Ethan?” He yells over the music, “Get caught up again before I got here?”
I laugh loudly, “Fuck off, Ivan. You’re always late, and I got bored. I actually considered leaving.”
Ivan snickers also, and motions his head towards the opposite end of the club. We tail him, normally, and we're prompted to a separated entryway. He fumbles for the keys in his pocket and I incline toward him anxiously, laying my elbow on his shoulder and tapping my foot against the floor. Ivan, eventually, gets the correct key and opens the door, to tail us and bolt it back up. I grin devilishly, and Ivan pushes himself in the middle of my sister and I, hanging his arms over our shoulders. I manage to slip my arm behind him and pat his back, chuckling. Ivan, for all intents and purposes, skips when he gets the opportunity to see us once more, particularly when nobody's around. We leave the passage into the Barcombe, which is a secret place that we all hang out in, an abandoned apartment complex behind the club. It’s a usual place that people like us hang out in. Killers, thieves, sometimes rapists, but nobody likes rapists, come on. We usually kick them out or something. Only a few people have the key and others need to hook up with someone that does in order to get in. Well, I mean some thieves know how to get in by picking the lock, so there’s that. Ivan is one of those few people. After a while, we decide that we should all just head back out and get something to eat or whatever. Ivan, Valerya, and I cover our weaponry and walk around. My face is everywhere. It's a bit embarrassing.
“You’re pretty face is everywhere, man.” Ivan snickers, as everyone one looks to me and my sister. Me, being a well-known serial killer, and my sister being one of few female killers.
Needing a pack of cigarettes and beer, I stroll over to an convenience store that was practically just by the club, with Ivan and Val tagging behind me. The sliding entryways open before me once I'm within the range of motion detection. Just before I enter the line of sight from the surveillance camera, I touch the metal of the sliding doors, sending a volt of electricity to momentarily disturb the surveillance camera. There are four small aisles on either side of me, with the counter straight ahead. I meander to the back with the mass of icy beverages, while the other two wander somewhere else in the store. I snatch a six pack of beer, before coming back to the counter. I request a specific pack of cigarettes and as the clerk swings to the mass of various types of cartridges. I sense someone out the corner of my eye. I investigate them and raise an eyebrow.
I incline toward the ledge, elbow laying on it, and keep myself adjusted. The outsider is wearing a hoodie, so I can't exactly observe their face, however, whatever is left of them is well noticeable, as they are clearly female.
"Uh." I begin, and she gives careful consideration, "Hey, you in the black hoodie."
It was very entertaining to see her check what she was wearing, and swings rapidly to the sound of my voice. I turn away from her, then, similarly as she looks in the mirror observation, I see the lady's reconnaissance headset and receiver underneath her shirt.
My grin drops and my jaw sets as I recognize who she actually is.
ns 15.158.61.37da2
