Chapter 32: 2.13

“Here are your drinks,” the bartender said. He set a martini glass in front of me filled with creamy, light brown liquid, its rim coated with chocolate syrup. Bubbles from the mixing dotted its surface along with dark chocolate bits. “Chocolate truffle martini for the lady in blue and—" He presented Deen her order, an exquisite red drink almost like liquified ruby with a wedge of lemon on the glass rim. “A simple, classic sangria for the lady in white.”

“Thanks,” Deen said, giving the bartender a wink. What was that supposed to be? Did Deen think she was a femme fatale undercover character in a spy thriller? They always did flirt with the people around them as part of their disguise. But that was a stupid thing to do here; it would only reinforce the bartender’s memory of us. Not that Deen, in her stunning get-up, was an easily forgettable sight. She raised her drink to me and I clinked my glass with hers. “Cheers,” she said, “and dare I ask, a chocolate drink?”

“With vodka,” I reminded her. “You know I’m not really into drinking, so this is my compromise. A big girl chocolate milk drink.” Taking a sip of our drinks, we surveyed the place.

Eve wasn’t only a partying and dancing haven but also a high-class restaurant and lounge. The dancing area of the club in the middle was elevated a few steps higher than the surrounding restaurant area. At one end of the club was a stage with a runway that extended to the dance floor. A rapper from the “underground scene” according to Deen, whatever that meant, was performing with backup dancers in skimpy clothes. I didn’t recognize him even though she said he was famous. Above the stage was a platform designed to look like an opera box but was actually the stage for the DJ.

Decadence and glamour could barely capture the essence of the place. Huge LED screens hung all over. Dropping from the ceiling were thin crystal chandeliers with branching filaments, emulating a forest of lights growing from above. Darting through and between the chandeliers on a preprogrammed path were drones projecting holographic images of a rainbow-colored koi fish around them.

“This is the fanciest place I’ve ever been in,” I said without any exaggeration. “I bet you’ve been in fancier places.”

“For a club? I’ll have to agree with you. This will also be my top fanciest club. Although I may look like it, I don’t go out partying that much.”

“Huh, that’s a sentence I never expected to hear coming out of you.” I took another sip of my drink. It was smooth and sweet; I could barely taste the alcohol. “Lookie there, Nikki,” I said, calling Deen with a fake name. “Bianca’s crew are starting their shoot.”

“She shouldn’t be far behind. Maybe she’s already outside prepping.”

“Hmm, they’re interviewing people. Want to give a review of this place? Awesome club, ambiance, and service. Ten out of ten.” I lowered my voice into a whisper. “Not to mention the monster fighting ring hidden somewhere around here.”

“Twelve out of ten for that. I haven’t heard of any other club offering such entertainment.”

Our phones beeped. “Sneak en route,” was the short message from Emcee.

Deen and I nodded at each other.

After we got inside, the plan was for Emcee to wear a shirt with a logo of Bianca’s show and join up with Barb and Oberon so it wouldn’t look like they lost a couple of crewmates. While they tinkered with the equipment, he was going to burn a camera—it was one of the cameras Deen bought online when she was trying to record her invisible pet—and make it seem like it was a malfunction because of the power outage of the club. Then they’d just pack up and say adios, they’d have to fix it, whatever, and that the main crew with the proper equipment would take over.

Fortunately, they were able to safely leave before the real crew arrived.

And earlier, after we ordered our drinks, we also received a message from Blank that after they let Bianca’s crew go, they spotted her van not shortly after.

I checked the time on my phone. Blank and Johann should be somewhere outside the club by now. The two of them and Myra would position themselves on the streets leading to the club, on the lookout for vehicles going to the club that could deliver the mutants for the fight tonight; a large truck, most likely.

That was phase one of the plan.

We were now in phase two: getting Oberon’s fairy into the secret fighting area. Sneaking in Sneak.

Right now, Oberon, guarded by Emcee, should be in the ‘summoning car’—an old car with its backseats removed and fitted with cushions for Oberon to comfortably kneel for long periods—which Emcee was assigned to drive on his way here.

Oberon already knew how to get his fairy inside the club from his previous attempts to find Eve’s secret area. The problem was the fairy couldn’t exactly look around for the secret place if no one went inside there, and it probably wasn’t even open if there wasn’t a scheduled event like tonight. The task of getting inside the hidden area was up to us, or more specifically Deen.

“Good evening ladies, first time seeing you here.” A pair of douchebags approached us.

To be fair, I didn’t know who they were and I was probably just being a judgmental bitch, but getting hit on was not ideal while we were on a mission. Were they children of the clients of the 2Ms? I'd hazard a guess they were a few years younger than us, but, then again, both of us did look pretty young for our age.

“That’s because it’s our first time here,” Deen said demurely, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Hello,” I managed to say all cutesy-like with a small wave while stopping myself from vomiting at myself.

“I guessed it right,” said the first d-bag who could pass for the leading actor in a romantic comedy movie with his good looks. “I’m Abniel, by the way.” He put his hand on the shoulder of his bro d-bag who admittedly was on the same level of handsomeness as him. “And this is Christoff.” He went to Deen’s side and put his elbow on the bar. “We come here often, and there’s no way gorgeous ladies like you could escape our notice.”

Deen’s willpower to stop her eyes from rolling back into her skull radiated like a forcefield around her but the d-bag duo seemed oblivious to it. I could feel Deen consider just permanently giving up on saving the world. “I’m Nikki,” she purred, speaking in a higher pitch than usual. She gave me a sidelong glance, looked at her shoulder, then subtly gave a nod towards the d-bag pair.

I understood her hint that her Guardian Angel got our backs. But I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. “And I’m Claire,” I said. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“Do you guys like, I don’t know, keep tabs on all the ladies here?” Deen said.

“Only the pretty ones,” Abniel said. Then he and Christoff high-fived each other while laughing. Yeah, these idiots were obviously way younger than us. I might get cramps trying to prevent my intestines from literally physically cringing. “So, what brings you girls here tonight?” he said. “Who’s your sponsor?”

Deen turned her body towards him, feigning interest. "Bianca's coming here tonight and we're such big fans. I pestered my friend who’s been here before to invite the two of us.”

Evading the question of who invited us, and we were turning our flirting game on? Roger, Deen, I’ll follow your lead. I spun my barstool around to face Christoff. “Since we’re new here, how about you guys tell us about yourselves?” I leaned down to take advantage of my low neckline, but, I mean, I don’t really have anything there. For a combo, I also crossed my legs to hike up the hem of my playsuit. It was a bit awkward to intentionally raise it. If only I knew beforehand there would be some seduction action going on tonight, I would've worn a bodycon like Deen. “I bet you guys are pretty well connected to be able to get in this exclusive place.”

Deen chimed in, “And it sounds like you’re here regularly too.” From her tone, I could tell she was barely holding back her laughter when she noticed what I was doing. I glared at her.

Abniel said, “Well, my dad’s the VP of Kedrano Pharma. He’s a member here, so I can just go in and out of this place like it’s my house. Hey, maybe I can show you girls my house later. Dad’s staying late here tonight anyway.”

“Bro, hold back a bit,” Christoff said. “You’re ruining the gentleman vibes we have going on here. Anyway, as for me, my mother’s Melissa Roquero. You should have heard of her. She’s a member here too.”

“The celebrity chef,” Deen said. “You’re her son? Really?”

“Oh, I’ve seen her on TV,” I said. I have not. “You do look like her.”

“I get that a lot,” he said. I sighed with relief inside my head that I got it right. “And not just TV shows. We have five-star restaurants all over the country.”

“The caliber of guys at this place…just wow,” Deen said.

The two d-bags went on to brag about being well connected, pointing to various people in the club, introducing them as that rich businessman, that important politician, that famous celebrity, all the works. I doubt everyone here was connected with the illegal Adumbrae activities of the 2Ms, but I bet a few of these people weren’t exactly human anymore.

Deen and I let them continue with their pissing contest. I had met a few guys like this in the past, always getting caught up with showing off how important they were. They were probably used to girls throwing themselves at them upon hearing how rich they were. If I were in their shoes, I'd have a couple of introductory lines loaded with the goodies like a padded resume then move on to asking the girl about herself.

More often than not, the girl would go, ‘Awww, he’s so important but he wants to know about me.’ Winning formula if you ask me.

“Umm,” Deen said, interrupting them. I raised my brow. I assumed Deen had plenty of experience with this type of guy too so we should just continue appreciating how awesome they were and then try to get information from them. She, however, said, “I think we might excuse ourselves for now. Just…um…going to the—.”

“Restroom,” I said. Deen had a concerned expression, although she was trying to keep herself calm. Her eyes were out of focus like she was concentrating on listening to something. Did we mess something up and the Guardian Angel was telling us to bail? I jumped down from the barstool and beckoned for Deen. “Restroom, right?”

But Abniel stopped us. “What’s the rush? The night is only starting.” He wasn’t as stupid as he seemed, recognizing the trademark subtle rejection patented by womankind. Unfortunately, he was a pushy idiot. “How about we move to the dance floor? Or if you’re not comfortable, we can have dinner instead. It’s on us.”

“We’d rather not,” Deen said. She tried to move to the side, but Christoff was there.

“You haven’t even finished your drinks,” he said. “We wanted to offer you a drink when we spotted you, but you already have yours, so don’t waste it. Stay around for a bit.”

I tried pushing Christoff out of the way, placing my hand on his chest, but he wouldn’t budge, even stepping forward to get closer to me. Control your strength, I cautioned myself. It was only expected a small woman like me couldn’t push him. “We really need to get going,” I insisted. A commotion coming from the entrance of the club made us turn our heads. “Bianca is here!” I said, grabbing Deen’s hand. “We’re going to see her. Later guys, or not.”

"Wait," he said. Then this bastard had the fucking audacity to put his hand around my waist! The hair on my neck and arms stood on end as a bolt of utter disgust shoot up through my spine from where he touched me. I hated… ABSOLUTELY HATED GETTING TOUCHED when I didn’t allow it. “Let us accompany you,” he said. “Bianca? We’ll introduce—OOF!”

I elbowed him in the stomach with as much restraint as I could muster. Just kidding, I made sure to hit him hard, way harder than someone my size should be able to, but not as hard as I truly wanted, which was to kill him. Too bad. He dropped to the floor on his knees, clutching his stomach, retching saliva on the floor.

“What happened?” Abniel said. “Hey bro, you okay?”

“We’re going now,” I coldly said. I didn’t want to look at Deen in case what I did was wrong. If it was, she didn’t stop me in time, so that was her fault or the fault of the Guardian Angel. Easy to shift blame to the prescient pet.

“What did you do to him?” Abniel said. He reached out to grab me, but a huge hand came out of nowhere and closed itself on his arm, and pulled him away. “Huh? The fuck?”

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A towering man loomed beside us. “Bullying girls? You’re too young to be an asshole. The younger generation is supposed to be the future of our country.”

How we didn’t notice such a large man approaching us, I had no idea. This time, I turned to look at Deen. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. I guess I messed up big time. I mouthed an apology. But Deen gripped my arm tightly and shushed me.

Abniel turned around to the newcomer and faltered as he looked up at him. “Who do you think you are?” he managed to stammer.

“Let’s see. What was that again…? Matt. Let’s go with Matt.” At first, I thought he was a bouncer due to his size, but the bland coat and tie he wore, more akin to a boring office attire than something one would wear in Eve, told me otherwise. A bodyguard of some VIP client here?

“What the fuck do you want? Go away.” Abniel tried to pull his hand from the giant's grip.

“That’s not the way to speak to your elders.” Matt stooped down to pick up Christoff and made him stand up with one arm. With his other hand, he held Abniel’s shoulder, pinching it hard as the latter winced in pain. “Now off you go. Carry your friend and don’t bother these nice ladies.” With the tight grip on his shoulder, Abniel complied and walked away with the still gagging Christoff. Matt followed them to make sure they didn’t turn around.

“Thank—,” I began to say, but Deen poked my arm and shushed me once again. “What was that all about?” I asked when they were some distance away.

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“I don’t know,” Deen said. “Sorry you had to go through that, I really am. I...I misinterpreted my Guardian Angel.”

“What did it say?”

“I’ll explain about it later. I should greet Bianca first before she gets too busy.” She checked her phone. “And Emcee says Sneak is inside the kitchen.”

“Alright then. I’ll get a table and order something."

Deen hurried to Bianca as I chose a table in the restaurant area of the club. I took my pick of the lush velvet cushioned chairs and black glass tables and called over a waiter. I asked him what was popular on the menu and ordered something else. We couldn’t have something that some other person could've ordered too. Right now, Sneak should be in the kitchen, having passed through the exhaust fans which were easily accessible for a small creature. I texted Emcee what we ordered so Sneak could watch out for it and ride it to our table.

“Hey,” Deen said, coming back from meeting Bianca. “Have you ordered?”

“I got us salmon tartare and grilled sea bass.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat tonight.”

“Are you okay? How did it go with Bianca?”

“My Guardian Angel gave only a couple of pointers. I think I did mostly fine. Bianca was delighted to see me and asked me to go with her after her performance. That’s my ticket inside.”

“She’s going to perform?” I asked. Deen nodded. Sensing something wrong, I said, “What happened back there? That was a complete one-eighty. I thought we were going to flirt with them.”

“Uh-huh, and get information from them. It was my assumption too. My Guardian Angel did say ‘get close to them’. Only that. Reading the situation, I made a reasonable assumption, right? Tell me I didn’t make a stupid assumption.”

“I would've thought the same.”

“But, after a few minutes, my Guardian Angel told me to ‘get away’.”

“Only those two words? ‘Get away’?”

“At first, yes. Then it kept on repeating ‘get away’. You can tell I got shaken back then. There was an urgency on the way my Guardian Angel said it.”

“We did get away though. Whatever that was. Thanks to the big guy."

"When the huge man arrived, I was told we shouldn't say anything."

"The situation got resolved in the end, no worries. We just made a mistake somewhere.”

“Not ‘we’, only me. I made a mistake interpreting the promptings of my power."

I couldn’t have Deen losing her confidence now. I needed her power for my plans. “But that’s one of the limitations of your power. It can’t exactly explain to you the reasoning of its advice so you must make the best of it. And you did. We’re still safe.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“And what if you weren’t wrong? It’s just the Guardian Angel not being able to see that far into the future yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like for the immediate future of like ten minutes or so, it saw that the best option was to get close with those guys. After a few minutes passed, it saw we’re gonna meet a dead end. Game over. So it said we should get away. Because…what else could it say at that point since it set us down the wrong path in the first place?”

“That’s a possibility.” Deen stared at the table, hesitant to accept my explanation.

A round of applause erupted. Over at the stage, Bianca was introduced. The host handed her a microphone. I wasn’t familiar with her career other than a few of her more famous shows and movies, and I didn’t know if she could sing. Apparently, she was a good singer.

“Deen, are you familiar with the hero’s journey?”

“I've heard of it. Isn’t it a story structure?”

“Yep. Basically, you start with a reluctant hero receiving a call to adventure. Our prospective hero would be hesitant to leave his normal life. Understandable. But for various reasons, he has to go be the hero, duh.”

“Okay…”

“So, the hero goes on and faces tests, obstacles, challenges. He’ll meet failure. This story structure needs the hero to fail, to reach rock bottom.”

“Are you saying I failed?”

“No!” I snapped. “Let me finish my lecture. And so, the hero, being the hero, will rise to the challenge and overcome all the odds, and you know become the...uh...hero. So, by the time the final battle begins with the big baddy, the hero has already been fully realized.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

I snorted in annoyance. "I haven’t reached the moral of the story part. Applying it to your situation, you've defied the beginning of the hero's journey. You could've refused this and nothing would change. You're not the chosen one or anything. It was your own choice to be a hero.

"Now, you're in the trials and tests part of your journey. Following the structure, you're going to fail, be depressed, find inspiration, pick yourself up, then arise a new person. But you shouldn't follow that. You didn't follow the start of the hero's journey because you were a hero from the start. And there's no need to go through this part of doubting yourself because you and I know that you have what it takes to be a hero."

Deen met my gaze, tears forming at the side of her eyes. She inhaled and wiped them. "You're right."

Of course, I'm right! Don't ruin my plans for tonight. “Come on, cheer up,” I said. “The food's here, try to get a bite or two.” The waiter set our order on the table. I squinted, trying to spot something out of place, but Oberon said there was no way of spotting Sneak if he didn't move. And if we did have special cameras to spot it, we still wouldn’t be able to see it because our brains would refuse to recognize it unless we already knew what we were looking for.

After the waiter left, Deen put her hand on the plate of salmon tartare. Something shimmered into view, a small greyish pixie-like creature with gossamer wings. It scooted over to Deen’s hand, hugged her wrist, and stopped moving, disappearing once again. “It doesn’t weigh anything,” Deen said, shaking her hand. "I can't even feel it on my arm."

"Awesome!"

She sighed, looking at her plate. "I guess this is it."

“You still look down.”

Deen slapped her cheeks then shook her hands and head. “Just getting it all out of me. Shoo, go away bad thoughts.”

I stood up. “Let’s go dance.”

“What?”

“Come on.” I grabbed her hand.

“What about the food?”

“Just leave it, I’ll return to it afterward. I gotta eat something while waiting for you to finish your date with Bianca later. They said she’s going to perform a couple more songs. Dancing will get rid of your nerves.”

Not waiting for an answer, I dragged her to the dance floor and she reluctantly followed me. We danced under the flashing, multi-colored lights, the heavy booming of the music pounding our eardrums, making our hearts quake. Many people were dancing with us and I took great care not to rub against any of them; I abhorred that feeling.

Deen warmed up pretty quickly. We were two university students taking a break from the stress of law school, partying on a Saturday night. She was having a great time it seemed, laughing out loud as she rocked her body to the beat of the music. Was she dancing her heart out to bury the stress of the mission? Or was she savoring a moment of normalcy in this crazy world that she entered? Whatever her reason to laugh, I joined her. The whole scene was just too damn funny for me. Everything was very funny.

Deen didn’t even know the real story here. No one did.

Including me!

And wasn’t that funny as fuck?

When the music died down and Bianca thanked the crowd for their support, Deen went in for a hug.

I allowed her to do so, awkwardly hugging her back. She's so fucking tall.

“Thank you so much, Erind," she said. "I needed that. You’re a great friend. She let go of me and deeply inhaled. “I’ll get going now.”

“Good luck,” I replied. Good luck to both of us.

We were going to need lots of luck tonight.

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