PINE STREET.
10:30 p.m.
The street pulsed. Taxis honked, the sound of engines hummed, and neon signs spilled color across the pavement. Crowds drifted along the sidewalks—some slipping into Jack's Liquor, but most funneled toward the glowing beacon of 69 Mimic.
Adriana Lopez, young in years but carrying herself with the weight of someone older, stood apart from the chaos. Her presence was both treasure and mystery—her outfit catching eyes, her quiet composure commanding respect.
From across the street, she fixed her gaze on the five-story club. Without hesitation, she crossed, heels striking 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 under her breath. She stepped into line, pulse quickening, thoughts racing in tandem—both beating 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 far removed 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—almost expectant.
"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 searching 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.
"Oh...what is it?", Abigail asked, tilting her head, curiosity edging into her voice.
"It's none ya'.", Kyle replied flatly, barely glancing up from his phone.
"None ya'—whats that?", Abigail asked, raising an eyebrow, her curiosity now laced with annoyance.
"None ya' business.", Kyle said with a smirk, a light giggle slipping out as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.
"Well this kinda is my business—since I'm walking with you.", Abigail said seriously, her frown deepening as she fixed him with a steady gaze.
"Yeah, don't worry—we're nearly there. Just around the corner.", Kyle said swiftly, his eyes scanning ahead as he led the way.
"I wish Tokyo were here.", Abigail murmured, her voice quiet, almost swallowed by the shadows around them. She glanced at Kyle, as if seeking reassurance.
"Well...why don't you run to her?", Kyle asked, his voice cold and clipped, eyes fixed ahead as if he hadn't even noticed her glance.
"First of all, I can't—it's too far away. And secondly, my phone died a while back.", Abigail stated firmly, her gaze unwavering.
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 once—brief and deliberate, like a silent signal. Almost immediately, the sedan responded, its headlights flickering in return.
Without a word, Kyle and Abigail began walking toward the court, each step echoing softly against the asphalt, their anticipation building 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, giving him a striking, almost ghostly appearance in the dim glow of the streetlights.
"Stop right there.", the man said, his voice sharp and cold, cutting through the stillness around the basketball court.
"Come on Tyler... what's the problem?", Kyle asked, lifting his arms slightly in a relaxed—almost nonchalant gesture, as if trying to diffuse the tension.
"The problem is that you were supposed to come alone.", Tyler replied, his tone low, carrying a warning that sent a shiver down the quiet street.
"Yeah, I know. But she was with me the whole day, so I decided she should come along.", Kyle stated calmly, refusing to back down.
"You and your fucking tricks... I'm tired of your bullshit!", Tyler snapped, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, the streetlight glinting off his leather jacket.
"If you're tired, why don't you go sleep?", Kyle asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he met Tyler's glare without flinching.
"You little piece of shit...", Tyler growled, his jaw tightening as his eyes burned with anger.
"Tyler, wait.", a mysterious voice called from the backseat of the sedan. A man stepped out, clad in a massive black polar jacket, and a cream Scottish hat perched atop his head, partially shadowing his face.
"Kyle.", the man said, his tone unreadable.
"Max.", Kyle replied.
"You a little late, do you have it?", Max asked.
"Yeah.", Kyle pulled a thick envelope from his back pocket and held it out. "Right here.", His eyes locked on Max. "Now my turn—do you have it?",
Max didn't answer Kyle right away. Instead, he looked at Tyler and gave 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, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"[Scuffs] Busy as usual. Who's your friend?", Max asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as they shifted toward Abigail.
"This is Abigail—don't mind her, I told her to tag along.", Kyle said smoothly, his eyes steady on Max.
"Nah, don't worry. Thought your balls dropped—and finally got yourself a girl.", Max said, his tone sharp, confident. Abigail instinctively hid her face, a small flush creeping up her cheeks. Tyler returned at that moment, carrying a black backpack like it weighed a ton of secrets.
"Boss.", Tyler said, handing the black backpack to Max, his movements precise, deliberate.
"Now we trade.", Max said smoothly, backpack in one hand, the other hand outstretched, his posture flawless. No words were needed—this was a test of trust and nerve.
"How 'bout you give me the bag first.", Kyle said, his voice steady.
"[Chuckles] Come on, kid... no need to be childish. Let's not waste time.", Max said confidently, eyes glinting with amusement.
"Yeah right—as if I'm trusting slander man.", Kyle replied with a smirk, flicking a finger toward Tyler.
"Fuck you!", Tyler growled. Max's hand flicked in a subtle signal. Instantly, Tyler fell silent, standing perfectly still, the tension lingering like a held breath.
"Look... if I wanted to fuck around, I would've.", Max said slowly, his eyes locked on Kyle's. "But I'm a gentleman—and I don't like wasting time.",
Max closed the distance, their faces mere inches apart. He wrapped his arms around Kyle, leaning 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, each word heavy with menace.
Kyle took a step back, holding 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, calm, almost amused by the formal dance of their exchange. "Tell AJ that I'll be seeing her.", Max requested casually.
"Yeah whatever. Anyways, we gonna bounce.", Kyle said, shrugging lightly as he and Abigail turned to leave, their movements measured and calm.
"Wait!... have you heard from Antonio, kid?", Max called out, stopping them in their tracks. His tone carried curiosity.
"No... can't say I have. What about him?", Kyle asked, his voice calm but edged with interest, testing Max for a reaction.
"None of your business kid.", Max said, his tone cutting but controlled. Abigail covered a grin with her hand, a quiet giggle escaping despite the seriousness of the moment.
"Now, go home kids.", Max said smoothly. Kyle and Abigail turned, leaving the court behind. The street was quiet, almost too quiet, their footsteps the only sound marking their escape.
157. PINE STREET.
69 MIMIC. 10:50 pm.
After twenty minutes of shoving through the line, Adriana finally slipped inside the club, swallowed by darkness that pulsed with sound. The bass hit her chest like a second heartbeat, vibrating through her bones. Bodies swayed and collided, a living tide of neon and motion. Strobe lights flickered across sweaty faces, catching 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, arms flailing, energy radiating 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, filling Adriana's nostrils.
("Where to start?"), she thought, scanning the chaos. Her eyes caught the bar—a shining island of order in the storm. Multiple bartenders marched behind the counter like soldiers on parade, hands moving in seamless rhythm as they poured, shook, and served. A towering shelf displayed every bottle imaginable, glinting 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, listening to the murmur of conversation, the hiss of the ice, the thump of the bass vibrating through the floor.
"Hey! Can I get you anything?", the bartender asked, his voice cutting through the bass with a friendly note.
Adriana looked up, momentarily distracted by the precise choreography behind the bar—She offered a small smile, her eyes scanning the bottles again, glittering under the club lights.
"I'll take... something strong.", she said, her voice calm but carrying a subtle edge, like she'd handled more than her fair share of nights like this. "Surprise me.",
The bartender raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Coming right up.", he responded.
Eventually, the bartender slid the drink across the counter, and Adriana picked it up, feeling the cool glass against her fingers. The music thumped around her, the crowd a chaotic blur, yet something in the air made her pulse quicken.
She took a slow sip, scanning the room, sensing that tonight—this night—would be life-changing.
And just like that, the moment hung there, electric and unspoken, waiting for what came next.
69 MIMIC. 10:52 PM.
Third floor.
Antonio lunged against the bar counter, a glass in one hand, his forehead resting heavily against the smooth surface. The bass thumped around him, a steady pulse.
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 eyes betrayed him—pupils dilated, flickering with the sharpness of someone far from sober. Every subtle movement, every glance, seemed measured yet unpredictable.
A middle-aged woman sprawled across the couch, her posture loose and languid, as though the night had already wrung her dry. Beside her, Gloria perched on the edge, tilting back a bottle of red wine. The deep crimson clung to her lips and streaked her fingers.
"[Giggle] Steffy... you look very tired, darling.", Her voice carried a strange blend—playfully seductive.
"Maybe I am... maybe I'm not. But this feels amazing.", Stephen murmured, his voice slow and unsteady as he studied his hand suspended in the air.
"Yes! Let the night take the wheel—set sail to all the unknowns.", Gloria replied, her arm cutting through the air in one graceful sway.
Out of nowhere, Antonio loomed over Stephen. He leaned in close, snapping his fingers sharply before his friend's dazed eyes.
"Come on, Cowboy.", he hissed, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Time to move.",
"I was feeling peaceful for a moment there—you know?", Stephen responded, a sly edge to his voice.
"Whatever... you'll feel better once we get the fuck out of here.", Antonio said, each word cutting sharp.
"Yeah... yeah.", Stephen muttered, forcing himself up from the couch.
"Awe!... where are you two going?", Gloria asked, her voice softening with a faint, almost childlike.
"Don't worry about it baby. Just enjoy yourself here.", Antonio said, hastily moving toward the exit with Stephen.
"How can I—when I'll be left alone?", Gloria asked, pain lacing her voice.
Stephen and Antonio didn't spare Gloria a glance. They strode toward the metal door with purpose. The massive bodyguard at its side gave a silent nod, swung the door open, and they slipped through without a word.
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, letting the bass throb through the walls, the music below swelling louder and harder—like a heartbeat racing toward collapse.
The elevator chimed. Its doors slid open, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. Neon lights spilled across the floor, flickering in rhythm with the pounding music that consumed the room.
Stephen staggered, nearly losing his balance, but Antonio caught him by the shoulder.
"Hey, Ranger... you good?", Antonio asked, eyes sharp with concern.
"Yeah... everything feels amazing.", Stephen murmured, though the words seemed to wobble on his tongue.
They stepped out of the elevator and into the thrumming crowd. Lights blurred, faces melted into one another, and the bass rattled his chest like a living pulse. Antonio drifted ahead toward the main entrance, but Stephen froze, every step uncertain, as if the room itself were shifting beneath him. Sounds collided—the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—and 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 bright, sprawling bar. He marched toward it, dragging a bar stool in front of him. Collapsing into the seat, he rested his head against the smooth counter, letting the world spin and pulse around him.
Suddenly a faint tap on his back barely registered at first, and Stephen let himself sink deeper into the counter. But the tap grew firmer, turning into a deliberate pat he could no longer ignore. Startled, he lifted his head and turned—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.