Desirae tapped her feet against the concrete, the rays dancing across the river as she leaned over the fencing. She had spent the day wondering if her father realized what was missing out of that sloppily organized stack of flash drives. Wondered if he noticed the gun slightly out of place, or the wooden separator not as snug as it was the last time he accessed that secret compartment.

It was far too late to be worrying about any of that. She considered messaging Zeke, to tell him not to fret unless it had been a few days since he hears from her again. She opted out of that idea, though, it’d only worry him further. It seemed he was already worried enough as is.

A group of guys laughed in the distance, practically making Desirae jump out of her skin as they approached. Turning on her heel, she eyed them each curiously and let out a breath of relief when DeVile was not in the mix. The looks they gave her clearly communicated how insane she was acting, but she couldn’t help it. She never had been so involved with such a dangerous group of criminals. Sure, she had been dealing augments, and a contact list to help spread business, but that was as far as it went. Sighing, she kicked some dirt up with her shoes and closed her eyes, twirling the flash drive through her fingers inside her jacket pocket. She felt ill.

“Desirae,” a deep and gruff voice called. “Come with me.”

Looking up quickly, she caught eyes with a short, stocky man. He was strong, his arms practically the size of her waist. He had tattoos on all his exposed skin, cybernetic material, and metal traveling up his covered skin and plated around his throat. He had a jagged scar extending from his left brow, crossing by his nose and over his lip. When he smiled, his teeth were crooked and out of place. She recoiled at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Baby doll, you’ll find that out later tonight. Now, you gonna follow me or keep on the way you’re acting? I know a few guys who would love to put a woman like you in line.”

She nearly vomited. Her entire stomach did a summersault as she nodded hesitantly, taking a few steps towards him as he turned away. He had this odor to him, one that resembled a dying skunk, or maybe rotten milk. Whatever it was, it added to his overall appearance and aura. Trying her best not to breathe, she walked behind him down the riverwalk.

The nightlife was quiet tonight, most people inside the restaurants and bars as opposed to walking along the sidewalk. It was getting chilly, and the comfort of liquor and heated patios was serving to be more tempting than following Mister stinks-a-lot.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked under her breath.

“DeVile has a spot he likes to take his bitches.”

Scoffing, she pinched her palms and bit her tongue, doing everything possible to prevent herself from screaming at him. She could tell he was doing this to arise a reaction out of her, but she was committed to the idea of staying as calm as possible.

Eventually, she came to a crossroads. He stopped abruptly, causing her to smack right into his hairy back, black tuffs of it sticking out of his wife-beater. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her towards an alleyway, laughing as she fell to her knees. She scraped her palms to catch herself from completely faceplanting, cursing aloud from the road rash.

“Come on, baby. You can get up faster than that.”

She blew a piece of her hair away from her face, looking up towards the alleyway he had shoved her towards. Standing, she rubbed some of the dirt off her pantlegs and moved her hands back into her pockets. Desirae couldn’t look weak to this dude, he obviously festered under the environment where he was stronger than his prey.

“Don’t call me baby,” she barked. He held his hands up and gave her another shove, this time into the alleyway.

It was relatively empty, trashcans lining the brick wall and water dripping from one of the fire escapes. She looked all around, taking note of the old steel and flickering lights. One of the doors opened, a trash bag being tossed into a puddle before the door slammed right back shut. She stepped over the broken glass that spilled from the bag, her boots crunching on the excess scrap metal and trash that was scattered around the wet road. Hugging her elbows as she ventured deeper down. In any other circumstance, she would bite that man’s penis off before he had been able to shove her, but given the nature of this meeting, she couldn’t be picky on who her escort was.

The man grunted at her to stop, banging on one of the steel doors that had no handle. It swung open without question, a smaller yet equally as buff man waving them in. He held an electric cigarette in his hands, his hair shaved on the sides and pink at the ends of the strands. His eyes were as electric as ever, a neon blue that practically lit up the alleyway. Augmented vision.

She shimmied past him, ignoring whatever remark he greeted her by and practically ran up the stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, it was dim and dull, but as soon as she reached the landing the room lit up. Neon signs all across the walls, plumes of smoke climbing into the ventilation as she carefully stepped towards the center of the room. The windows were barred and boarded, and each countertop was strung with drug paraphernalia and needles. She had never been in a crack house, and she figured this was the closest thing to one she would hope to ever see.

Heavy steps came from a hallway, a brown-headed man peeking from the corner. His smirk, his augmented, haze eyes, and brown hair were all too familiar; DeVile. He nodded towards her, waving the guy who escorted her away.

“Thanks, Krucifix. I’ll call for you when shit hits the fan.”

“Stupid name,” she mumbled under her breath as she followed him back to where he came from. DeVile waved his cybernetic wrist across the lock, the latch unlocking before he gestured for her to go inside. Desirae didn’t move, for some reason, she trusted the big meat-for-brains as an escort more than she trusted this sleazeball.

“Come on, darlin’. I don’t have all night.”

“Don’t call me darling,” she barked again. What’s up with these guys and nicknames?

“Oh, that’s right. Desirae.”

Shuddering at the fact that he probably knew way too much about her, she finally made her way into the room and looked around. There wasn’t much she could use as a weapon if she needed to, completely ignoring the fact that he had a gun peeking out of the back of his pants. She could swing a broom at his hand, but he’d just shoot her. She could try and grab a vase, smashing it on his eye socket, but he’d shoot her before she even made a step in the right direction. Pretty much all signs pointed to getting shot.

Sighing shakily, she paced the room as he took a seat on a chair. Leaning forward onto his knees, he spoke up. “You look like you’ve been run through a meat grinder and pieced back together.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” She asked.

“It means you look like shit. Do you have my info?”

“Where’s your mutual? This was supposed to be for somebody you knew.”

“Plans changed, I need the info more. Where is it?”

Chuckling, she looked at him and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, and you’re naive. I’m gonna ask you one more time, Desirae, or else I’ll start to get really mad.”

Pursing her lips together, she carefully removed the flash drive from her pocket and handed it to him. He accepted it reluctantly, his lip twitching into a smirk as he twisted it around dramatically.

“What the fuck is this?”

“A flash drive, dumbass.”

“It’s a flash drive that’s older than any of your family. Where’d you get it?”

She shrugged, folding her arms across her chest. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Hmm.” He shook his head, tracing his fingers across the paper that was taped to the front of it. “What’s on it? Hits?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I gave it to you.”

He started to laugh, closing his palm around the drive and stood, wagging his finger at her. “So, let me make sure I’m getting this straight… I tell you to bring me a list of anything and everything you could think about to help me grow my list of clientele and network, and you bring me a flash drive that is obscurely named, and you don’t know what’s on it?”

Clearing her throat, she nodded. “Yeah… But--”

“Do you think I’m some kind of idiot?” He snapped, another cackle croaking out of his throat. He took the gun out and started to wave it lazily. “Do you forget how we fuckin’ met, sunshine? I’m not the type of dude to mess with.”

Desirae jumped backward every time the gun was even idly pointed in her direction. Eventually, she was flush against the wall and breathing heavily, trying to find her words so she didn’t get shot in the forehead. “I think it would be useful to you.”

“Useful? Honey, money is useful to me. I don’t care whatever the fuck this is! You think I don’t know people are getting assassinated left and right? What do you think I am to do with a hitlist?”

“You know what? Fuck you, DeVile! I couldn’t care less about what you find useful or not.”

DeVile chuckled, taking a few steps towards her. “Yeah? Then why the heck did you show up tonight?”

She shook her head, clenching her fists as he towered over her. His smile grew colder, his eyelids heavy and irises otherwise emotionless. He was terrifying.

“Wanna hear a funny story, Des?” He asked, leaning forward so his breath tickled the peachfuzz along her cheek. The metal of his gun tapped her on the temple dauntingly, his chuckle sending a shiver down her spine. “I have killed sweeter girls than you, for less, too. I want you to tell me why I shouldn’t kill you. Wastin’ my time like this.”

The breath left her lungs in a singular gasp, choking at the end of it as she closed her eyes. “DeVile… You need to calm down.”

The gun cocked, and the barrel was kissing her skin. “Tell me why I need to calm down, then.”

Desirae opened her eyes, her palms shaking as she failed to find her words. The answers were in her back pocket, on her phone, but she needed to get him away from her in order to grab it without serious consequences. Muttering a final statement, she lifted her knee up to hit him right where it hurts.

“I really fucking hate augmented pricks like you,” she mumbled and watched as he backed away in pain. He scowled at her, reaching his arm up to smack her with his gun. She ducked and shoved the plastic chair towards him. “If you fucking listen to me, you psychotic asshole, I can tell you why that flash drive could mean the world to you.”

He wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead, reaching the gun up so it was pointed directly at her and read to blow. “Yeah, darlin’. But I really don’t care.”