PINE STREET. 10:30 p.m.
The street pulsed with taxis that honked abundantly, the sound of engines hummed, and billboard signs spilled color across the pavement. Crowds drifted along the sidewalks—some turned to Jack's Liquor, but most funneled toward the beacon of 69 Mimic.
Adriana Lopez, thirty-nine years old but she carried herself with the weight of someone young, who stood apart from the chaos. Her presence was both treasure and mystery—her outfit caught eyes and her quiet composure commanded respect. From across the street, she fixed her gaze on the five-story club. Without a second thought, she crossed, her heels stroked with rhythm. The velvet rope and the restless line of patrons came into focus, a funnel into the heart of the night.
"This is either the best idea I've had—or the last chance I'll ever get." Adriana murmured. She stepped into line and her pulse quickened, thoughts raced in tandem—both beaten to the same wavelength.
DELPHVILLE. 10:33 p.m.
Meanwhile, across the east side of San El Zorro, Delphville's quiet streets told a different story, though not farfetched from the city's heartbeat. The streets looked ordinary, but the air carried a hush—quiet enough to notice, heavy enough to feel. It was the kind of quiet that made you expect something to break it.
Kyle and Abigail walked side by side along the pavement. The glow of the streetlamps stretched their shadows long and thin, suddenly somewhere a dog barked. The stillness made the air feel thick. "What are we doing here Kyle?" Abigail asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and unease. Kyle didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked down the empty street ahead, as if he searched for something; only he knew was there.
"Came to collect a package for my mother." Kyle responded calmly, as he began typing on his cellphone. Abigail tilted her head "Oh…what is it?" she asked.
Kyle never turned from his cellphone "It's none ya'." he replied. "None ya'… what's that?" Abigail asked, raising an eyebrow, her curiosity now laced with annoyance.
Kyle tucked his phone away, with a smirk on his face "None ya' business." he giggled. Abigail frowned "Well, this kind of is my business—since I'm walking with you." she said. "Yeah, don't worry—we're nearly there. Just around the corner." Kyle replied.
"I wish Tokyo were here." Abigail murmured. "Well…why don't you run to her?" Kyle asked, his voice cold.
"First of all, piss of jackass, And secondly… I can't—it's too far away. Plus, my phone died a while back." Abigail stated.
Eventually, they reached the end of the corner and turned onto Stacey Blvd. The street opened up to a secluded basketball court, nearly hidden beneath a canopy of trees. Shadows clung to the edges. Parked inside the court was a small black sedan. Kyle flicked his flashlight briefly and deliberate. Almost immediately, the sedan responded, its headlights flickered in return.
Without a word, Kyle and Abigail walked into the court, each step echoed softly against the asphalt, their anticipation built with every movement closer to the mysterious car. As they drew closer to the black sedan, a tall; skinny man suddenly hopped out of the car. He wore a leather jacket, and dark sunglasses concealed his eyes. His light skin matched the color of his hair, almost a ghostly appearance in the dim glow of the streetlights.
"Stop right there." the man said, his voice was sharp and cold. Kyle crossed his arms "Come on Tyler… what's the problem?" he asked. "The problem is that you were supposed to come alone." Tyler replied. "Yeah, I know. But she was with me the whole day, so I decided she should come along." Kyle stated calmly.
"You and your fucking tricks, every time… I'm tired of your bullshit!" Tyler snapped as he took a step closer. A smirk tugged Kyle's lips "If you're tired, why don't you go sleep?" he mocked.
"You little piece of shit…" Tyler growled. "Tyler, wait." a mysterious voice called from the backseat window of the sedan. A man stepped out, clad in a massive black polar jacket, and a cream Scottish hat perched atop his head, partially shadowed his face.
"Kyle." the man said, his tone unreadable. "Max." Kyle replied. "You a little late, you have it?", Max asked. "Yeah." Kyle pulled a thick envelope from his back pocket and waved it. "Right here." His eyes locked on Max. "Now my turn… do you have it?" he asked, Max didn't answer Kyle right away. Instead, he clicked his finger with a firm nod. Tyler immediately walked to the car's boot.
"How've you been kid?" Max asked gently. "Can't complain. You?" Kyle asked. Max scoffed "Busy as usual. Who's your friend?" he asked, his eyes narrowed on Abigail.
"This is Abigail—don't mind her, I told her to tag along." Kyle replied smoothly. "Nah, don't worry. Thought your balls finally dropped—and got yourself a girl." Max said. Abigail instinctively hid her face, a small flush crept up her cheeks. Tyler returned, he carried a black backpack like it weighed a ton of secrets.
"Boss." Tyler said, as he handed the backpack to Max.
"Now we trade." Max said, backpack in one hand, the other hand outstretched. No words were needed; this was a test of trust and nerve. "How 'bout you give me the bag first." Kyle said. Max chuckled "Come on, kid… no need to be childish. Let's not waste time." Max said confidently. "Yeah right—as if I can trust slander man over there." Kyle replied with a finger toward Tyler.
"Fuck you!" Tyler growled. Max's hand flicked subtly. Instantly, Tyler fell silent, he stood perfectly still, the tension lingered like a held breath.
"Look… if I wanted to fuck around, I would've." Max said slowly. "But I'm a gentleman—and I don't like wasting time." Max closed the distance, their faces mere inches apart. Then he wrapped his arms around Kyle and leaned close, so his head hovered near his ear. "Don't you think I would've fucked y'all up by now? Now hand me the envelope." Max whispered menacingly. Kyle took a step back, he held Max's gaze for a fleeting second, then handed over the envelope. Max passed the backpack to him in return. "See how easy that was." Max stated. "Tell AJ that I'll be seeing her." Max requested casually.
Kyle shrugged lightly "Yeah whatever. Anyways, we gonna' bounce." he said, then Abigail and Kyle left. "Wait! have you heard from Toni, kid?" Max called out. "No… can't say I have. What about him?" Kyle asked. "None of your business kid." Max said. Abigail covered a grin with her hand; and she uttered a quiet giggle. "Now, go home kids. There're dangerous people out here." Max said smoothly. Kyle and Abigail turned and left the court behind. The street was quiet, almost too quiet, their footsteps the only sound that marked their escape.
157. PINE STREET. 10:50 pm.
69 MIMIC.
After twenty minutes she waited line, Adriana finally entered the club, swallowed by darkness that pulsed with sound. The bass hit her chest like a second heartbeat, it vibrated through her bones. Bodies swayed and collided, a lively tide of neon and motion. Strobe lights flickered across sweaty faces, some caught the glitter in someone's hair, the glint of a ring, the frantic flail of hands in the air.
The DJ leapt behind the decks; his arms flailed around like energy that radiated outward like a storm. Servers darted through the crowd; trays of drinks balanced with impossible precision. Glasses clinked, laughter collided with the beat, and the faint tang of spilled liquor mixed with perfume and cigarette smoke, invaded Adriana's nostrils.
'Where to start?' she thought. Her eyes caught the bar; an island shone of order in the storm. Multiple bartenders marched behind the counter like soldiers on parade, hands moved in seamless rhythm as they poured and served. A shelf displayed every bottle imaginable, it towered under the overhead lights, while a small door beside it hinted at the mysteries of the storeroom.
Adriana slid onto a bar stool, the cool leather under her fingers grounding her amid the whirlwind. She rested her elbows on the counter and waited; she listened to the murmur of conversations, the hiss of the ice and the thump of the bass.
"Hey! Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked, his voice cut through the bass with a friendly note.
Adriana looked up, momentarily distracted by the precise choreography behind the bar, her eyes scanned the bottles again, glittered under the club lights. "I'll take… something strong." she said, "Surprise me."
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Coming right up." he responded. Eventually, the bartender slid the drink across the counter, Adriana felt the cool glass against her fingers. The music thumped around her. She took a slow sip and just like that, the moment hung there, electric and unspoken.
69 MIMIC. 10:52 PM.
Third floor.
Antonio lunged against the bar counter; his forehead rested heavily against the smooth surface. The bass thumped around him, across the room, Stephen lounged on a long couch pressed against the wall, framed by luxurious paintings that stretched toward the ceiling. He reclined lazily, but his pupils were dilated, it flickered with the sharpness of someone far from sober. Every subtle movement seemed measured yet unpredictable.
A middle-aged woman sprawled across the couch, her posture loose and languid. Beside her, Gloria perched on the edge, she tilted back a bottle of red wine. The deep crimson clung to her lips and streaked her fingers.
Gloria giggled with excitement "Steffy… you look very tired, darling." Her voice carried a strange blend—playfully seductive. Stephen focused on his hands "Maybe I am… maybe I'm not. But this feels amazing." he murmured.
"Yes! Let the night take the wheel—set sail to all the unknowns." Gloria replied as she gracefully swung her arm… Out of nowhere, Antonio loomed over Stephen. He leaned in close, snapped his fingers sharply.
"Come on, Cowboy." he hissed. "Time to move."
"I was feeling peaceful for a moment there—you know?" Stephen responded.
"Whatever… you'll feel better once we get the fuck out of here." Antonio said. Stephen forced himself up from the couch "Yeah… yeah." Stephen muttered.
"Awe! where are you two going?" Gloria asked, her voice softened.
"Don't worry about it baby. Just enjoy yourself here." Antonio replied hastily.
"How can I—when I'll be left alone?" Gloria asked, pain laced her voice. Stephen and Antonio didn't spare Gloria a glance. They strode toward the metal door. The massive bodyguard at its side gave a silent nod then swung the door open, and they left. They walked down the long corridor toward the main elevator. Once inside, Antonio jabbed the button for the ground floor. Neither of them spoke. They stood in silence, the bass throbbed through the walls, the music below swelling louder and harder—like a heartbeat that raced toward collapse.
The elevator chimed and its doors slid open, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Neon lights spilled across the floor, it flickered in rhythm with the pounded music that consumed the room. Stephen staggered— he nearly lost balance, but Antonio caught him by the shoulder. "Hey, Ranger… you good?" Antonio asked. "Yeah… everything feels amazing." Stephen murmured, though the words seemed to wobble on his tongue.
They stepped out of the elevator and into the chaotic crowd. Lights blurred, faces melted into one another, and the bass rattled his chest like a dying pulse. Antonio drifted ahead toward the main entrance, but Stephen stopped, every step uncertain, as if the room itself had shifted beneath him. Sounds collided—the laughter, the music, the clung of glasses— he couldn't find a way out. Panic pricked at the edges of his mind, yet he moved forward anyway, caught between fascination and fear. Though he couldn't find the exit, Stephen's eyes landed on the sprawled bar. He marched on toward it, Stephen dragged a bar stool in front of him. Then threw himself onto the seat, he rested his head against the smooth counter, the world spun and pulsed around him. Suddenly a faint tap on his back barely registered at first, but Stephen let himself sink deeper into the counter. But the tap grew firmer, finally turned into a deliberate pat he could no longer ignore. Startled, he lifted his head and gazed behind—and his eyes went wide, as if he'd seen a ghost.
Stephen blinked hard, but the figure didn't vanish. Adriana stood before him, calm amid the storm, her eyes locked on his like she'd been waiting all night. His breath caught—because if she was here, nothing about tonight was an accident.