Marcello sat at the small glass table. Through the decorations of light and trees, the slightly chilly morning wind blew his and Zoe's hair into a frenzy as they scanned the outside of the cafe—its aesthetic matching Ayla's gothic attire. Ayla sat bored, scrolling through her phone in her right hand. With her other, the straw swirled around the green caffeinated slushy drink. Sliding it across the table, she handed it to Zoe.

  Politely, she took it, taking a small sip from the straw. "Mm," Zoe hummed. "Sumptuous," she passed it back to Ayla. Her eyes drifted to Marcello's clasped hands, the shiny rings occasionally catching the light. One had a large emerald diamond in it, another was oval, and the orange rock inside had a crudely cut image of a fire. The last one she could see was a blue opal and what looked to be a game controller etched into it.

  Earlier that morning, Alder had made her and Marcello drag Ayla from the hotel room. Weeping in Zoe's stiff, awkward arms for minutes on end, apparently, a fit of moodiness that had been so common in the girl as long as he could remember. Alder had just retracted an earlier promise. A miserable look on Marcello's face as he watched the banker's daughter sobbing and pounding the floor with her feet, salty tears running down her face.

  Ayla put her phone to her ear, and sighed, "Yes, mom?" There was a long silence. Suddenly, Ayla swore loudly, slamming the glass table with her fist, and threw her phone to the cobblestone sidewalk. Ignoring her bodyguard's look of surprise, she glared at one of her friends, a girl from a lower tax bracket, who followed her around like a shadow.

  Wincing, Zoe glanced around at the crowd, their eyes, like spotlights were on them all, 'Don't cause attention to us like that.' Ayla looked to the phone and back at her friend, who sheepishly got up from her chair, putting the phone back in Ayla's palm.

  "Can you honestly believe them?" Ayla grumbled.

  "No," her friend agreed.

  "Did your mother want us to bring you back?" Marcello asked.

  "What a fucking bitch," she ignored him. "She has to be SO controlling all the time."

  "That's exactly what I was thinking," her friend nodded.

  "Okay, hold on," Marcello said.

  Zoe looked over, seeing Marcello's glare, but Ayla either didn't notice or didn't care.

  "And my father…what a joke. It's like he doesn't even love me. I actually wish I had different parents, or they died!"

  Her friend smiled, "I totally feel you on that."

  "You really shouldn't say things like that," Marcello muttered under his breath, turning to scan the environment.

  Ayla turned to him, sneering, "What!"

  Marcello exhaled slowly, "I didn't mean anything by it, okay?" He looked back at her, "I'm just saying that you should appreciate them while they're here."

  "Tch, whatever," she rolled her eyes and started scrolling through her phone once more, and talking to her friend.

  Zoe, who had been staring fixedly at her cup, "I was always taught to address my parents with deference," she murmured.

  "Yeah," Marcello mumbled an agreement.

  Later. Ayla leaned over the counter, plucking a glossy pamphlet from the display. She smirked and held it up for her friend to see. The two burst into laughter, their giggles echoing in the small, fluorescent-lit backroom of the convenience store. The laughter continued as they sauntered out. Before she followed them, Zoe glanced at the man behind the counter and then at the pamphlet. 'Brazilian Butt lift? What in the world?' Her face scrunched in confusion, leaving before she put too much thought into it. Outside, she nearly walked straight into Marcello, who stood like a statue on the sidewalk, his sharp gaze locked onto a figure across the bustling street.

  "Is he suspicious?" Zoe asked, following Marcello’s line of sight. Her eyes landed on a hulking man who towered over the crowd. His dark, tattooed skin gleamed under the sunlight, and the large diamonds in his ears caught the light like tiny flares. A bandaid on his cheek and over-designed, bright luxury clothes made him stand out even more.

  Marcello’s hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Get Ayla away from here," he instructed, his tone clipped. Without another word, he put the device to his ear and melted into the crowd ahead of them.

  "Wait!" Zoe called. Spiraling, she searched frantically. Seeing the black and purple dress Ayla wore that day, she and her friend walked ahead, never noticing either of their guards hadn't been there for over ten seconds. But that would be more than enough time.

  As Zoe walked to the two, she took the phone the Parks had given her earlier that day out of her pocket. 'Maybe Bulwark will…no, Gemo seems to have the most experience among all of us. Though, I know Mitani for longer,' She quickly dialed his number, "Uh. Mitani? Hello?"

  "Yes?" He said on the other end.

  "Okay, I've never really used these before, but there's a small emergency here. We're…" she looked around for a street sign. "We're on forty-second street, at the black market. Marcello just left for some reason. Can you take the two back to the hotel, and I can find Marcello?"

  There was a long pause on the other end, "Okay," he said finally. "I can be there in five."

  "Perfect." Zoe exhaled in relief and hung up. She turned her attention back to the crowd, stepping onto a nearby box to get a better view. Her eyes darted over the sea of heads, searching for either Marcello or the man he had been tailing.

  "Off!" someone yelled, pushing her down from the crate.

  Zoe stumbled, her hand instinctively going for her cards, ready to defend herself. But when she realized it was only a street vendor, she bowed her head quickly, muttering an apology in the vendor's native language. She backed away, her cheeks warm with embarrassment, and positioned herself a few feet from Ayla, keeping watch until Mitani arrived a few minutes later.

  "So, what do you need to do?" He asked.

  "I've had a weird feeling all day."

  "You think he's up to something?"

  "I don't know. The way he was acting when he saw that guy was definitely strange. But I've got to go." Before Mitani could respond, Zoe was already slipping through the crowd, her small frame darting between vendors and pedestrians. A bicycle-taxi nearly clipped her as she turned a corner, disappearing into the crowd.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  'There's probably more of them here,' Marcello thought as he stalked the man, staying several yards behind him. He could've pulled back even farther, but he was in perfect range in case things were to go south. At the very least, he knew he could get one of them.

  He followed the man for several more minutes, falling back once the crowd had scattered. Few neighborhood passers-by walked the cold Apris roads. Marcello watched as he turned a corner a few blocks ahead. He felt a smile cross his face.

  "Marcello," he heard the voice of a girl from behind him.

  He froze, his muscles tensing. Turning slowly, he found himself face-to-face with the white-haired girl from earlier. "Uh," he stammered, caught off -guard. "Zoe, right?"

  "Mhm," she nodded, standing with her arms crossed, her piercing blue eyes fixed on him. "What are you doing?" she asked, her tone sharp but curious.

  "Going over here," he pointed forward.

  "Okay..." Zoe replied, watching as Marcello suddenly sprinted down the road. She raced after him, her steps quick but cautious. He stopped just before an alleyway and pressed himself against the green-brick wall, peering around the corner. Zoe skidded to a halt behind him and scanned the concrete corridor from over his shoulder. "The third door on the right," she whispered. "There are large water footprints from the puddle to the door."

  He made a B-Line toward the building entrance. He stood outside the door, pressing his ear to the wood. Faint muffled voices filtered through, too distorted to make out.

  "Are you sure what you're doing is a good idea?" Zoe hissed. She stood opposite of him, mimicking him, with her ear to the door.

  "Yeah, I'm very sure," he muttered.

  "Okay, I don't think so."

  "Okay." he said loudly, clearly annoyed.

  "You're also kind of going AWAL." Zoe muttered.

  "Oh wow, really?" Marcello replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Didn’t realize. Thanks for telling me."

  "If this is about the guy with red hair, I don't think this would be the most-"

  "ZOE! Can you shut up?" Marcello's tone stopped her in her tracks. "I didn't ask you to be here. If you don't like it, leave."

  Zoe’s dilated blue eyes gave the boy a long stare. A tense silence lingered between them. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady. "I’m not here to ingratiate myself."

  "I'm not a child, ya know? I'm just...I'm just..." He did seem a bit like a child. Pacing and sulking the width of the alleyway.

  "I'm not here to ingratiate myself." Zoe finally said.

  He turned, ready to say something cruel, but seeing her expression and not wanting to hurt her feelings, he sighed, saying, "Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?" He walked toward the door and reached for the doorknob with his left hand. On his right hand were two large rings, which now glowed with radiant light. Even though Zoe couldn't sense energy, she could tell those were almost overflowing with aura.

  "What are you doing?"

  They turned at the voice, seeing a man standing at the alleyway's entrance; A pale-green aura crackled around him, snaking up his muscular frame like electric vines. Long dyed dreads hung down his shoulders, curling around his gold glasses.

  Zoe's eyes widened with fear, the green light reflecting in her irises. Not sure what to do, she glanced at Marcello, who watched the man blocking their exit. They walked to the middle of the alley, never taking their eyes off the man.

  "Ah, you just some jits." The man smiled, revealing his golden teeth, the name 'Antwan' engraved into them.

  Neither Zoe nor Marcello responded. Zoe’s hand crept into her pocket, fingers brushing against her deck of cards. She silently pushed a few out of the box for easy access.

  "Don't make me ask again," Antwan reached into his pocket.

  "'He's going for a gun!' Marcello stiffened, and a bright blue energy flung itself around him. Next to him, Zoe activated hers as well. The orange light glowed brightly, bouncing off Marcello's as they stood close.

  Antwan paid this no mind as he dug around in his pocket and produced a small ziplock bag holding what looked to Zoe like broccoli or dried clumped-up grass. She watched in confusion as he took his other hand to one of his other many pockets on his long, shiny cargo pants; producing small pieces of paper. With practiced precision, Antwan ground the contents of the bag between his fingers, packed it into the paper, and rolled it into a neat cylinder.

  Zoe felt the fear subside and be replaced with confusion; moreover, she felt intrigued. Sealing it with a quick lick, he brought a lighter to the end and took a deep inhale from the creation. Though quickly, her face scrunched, the drab, colorfully blue alleyway filled with what smelled like a skunk. 'What is that?' She glanced over, looking at Marcello. She coughed slightly. "Your eyes are like, really red!" She let out a raspy laugh, looking at Marcello's eyes.

  "Yours are too," he tried not to laugh, letting out a small giggle. He doubled over, Zoe ran to him.

  "Are you okay?" She asked him, looking up at Antwan, who continued to watch them, his golden teeth still showing. "What did you do?" She felt panicked, 'What is he doing? He must be doing some type of ability. I didn't see him even move. Perhaps that's not him…he went invisible and left some type of hologram of himself to distract us. Was Marcello or I poisoned somehow? There are no stab marks on him…' She looked at Antwan. It was hard to focus on him, and her eyelids suddenly felt heavy.

  Antwan let out a small cough just as Marcello coughed uncontrollably, deep guttural coughs that felt to him like he'd actually puke out one of his lungs. His throat burned like he was breathing super-heated air. 'What is happening to me?' He felt a small laugh catch in his throat, "I don't know what is... Zoe, are you okay?"

  Zoe stared at him with wide bloodshot eyes, "No. I'm not," she put a hand to her chest, feeling her heart beating out of control.

  "Match Me," Antwan smiled.

  "What'd he say?"

  Antwan stepped forward as he'd taken his final inhale. Though Marcello couldn't sense energy yet, he could tell that the man had just gotten a lot stronger. 'His energy just got a lot denser. Not just the quantity of it. It feels as if it's almost oppressive.'