Trix and Salamander stood across the room from Shakar and Willsworth. The Collared man fidgeted, constantly glancing between the two parties. The Groundhogs on the other hand, stepped into the room, the door closing behind them.

  “It’s locked down, right?” Salamander asked, tossing a glance to Trix.

  “Nice and tight,” The woman answered. She aimed her weapon at Shakar, “Step away from the cage and wait in the corner. Now.”

  “H-h-hey!” Willsworth said to Shakar, “Don’t listen to them, you hear me?! They’ll lock you up to! Just like me!”

  “Of course ya yappin’” Salamander chuckled, “Ay bud, how ya healin’ up?”

  The man banged his hands against the wall, is body riveting with shocks, “HEATHENS!” he yelled. He directed his attention to Shakar again, “Immigrant! If you don’t help me we’re both DEAD, you hear me? DEAD!”

  “Michael,” Trix said, “now that I think about it, him being here is suspicious enough.”

  The chain smoker glanced to woman, then, nodded. “I get it.” He looked back at the young man, “Ay, afro hat, just step away from da cage. We gon work it all out.”

  “They’re LYING!” the Red Collar screamed, “Leave this poor man alone you homeless wretches! As a government worker he’s under MY protection!”

  “Move,” Trix said to Shakar. “I won’t ask you again.”

  “Immigrant! Hit the handle of my door and recite the unlock code! It’s 2-4-6-D3—”

  “Alright, ya’ll’s both gettin’ roasted!”

  “Oh, ho, ho I’d like to see YOU try! Let me out—!”

  “Can you all do me a favor and please shut up?!” Shakar’s head snapped up, his sharp voice split the noise in the room. He quickly eyed the glass dome, then the Collared covered bulletin board, ‘I can see why they didn’t want anyone coming up here His eye traced to the two Groundhogs, biting his tongue to avoid accidental profanity. ‘However, that still doesn’t explain how they knew I was even here…’

  “No one is going anywhere.” He said, “As many questions as I have, I’ll gladly wait if you can do the same.”

  The Groundhog’s tense bodies were still readied in Shakar’s direction. So his surprise, the woman put her blades down and the man pinched the end of his cigar. He sighed.

  “Okey-doke.”

  ‘SKINT!’

  The woman’s blade clashed with Shakar’s stick in a flash, sending the young man hopping back in leaps. From the corner of his eye he saw Salamander running from his left, flames spewing from his mouth. He tensed, extending his stick to the ground at max length and just barely vaulting over the blast of fire. But at his front, Trix sent a kick into his stomach, knocking him down onto the cube and causing him to bounce off right in front of Salamander, who had just finished puffing from another cigar. He grinned and blasted the younger man at point-blank.

  ‘WHOOOOSH!’

  Spinning his stick as fast a he could, Shakar was again blown backwards, this time slamming into the cell. He could feel his hands burn and the terrible smell of his worn flannel intensify. He breathed hard—just then—Red Collar shot his finger upwards

  “Above you—!”

  Shakar raised his arms to block but Trix managed to slip a blade past his stick, jetting it to his neck. Shakar tensed, throwing his shoulders back while kneeing away the weapon, causing it to stab his thigh. He ran forward again, wincing as blood burst from his wound. He then felt the scorching feel of heat on his back, forcing him instinctively to the side, tripping over his bad leg while another stream of flames charred the back of his clothes.

  ‘I can’t get a hit in!’ he thought defending another of Trix’s blows. His hands now bled and his legs buckled. ‘I can no longer tell if they’re trying to kill me or if this is their way of ‘stopping’ me!’

  She jumped off their guard and stuttered, giving him a chance to quickly scan the room. He could see the chain smoker running into position again as the woman zig-zagged around him. Noticing that, Shakar let his left arm drop, then, spun to defend with his right.

  ‘THWOCK!’

  Trix’s eyes watched in surprise as Shakar’s stick smacked her hands, forcing her to drop her daggers. In that split sectioned, he’d already stepped in, recalling his stick to two feet, inches from slamming it over her head.

  ‘Just as I suspected!’ he thought, ‘She’s so fixed on attacking she couldn’t tell I disguised my block as a strike. And with her in this position…’

  The woman ducked, just as a wall of fire was coming Shakar’s way, but he was ready this time. He leaped over the woman, grabbing her by the waist and somersaulting midair, hurling her at the flames.

  “Shoot!” Salamander said.

  ‘WHOOSH!

  “Yes!” the Red Collar cheered, “Great work, Immigrant! You have a high place in society with service like this!”

  Ignoring him, Shakar leaped over the smoke, towards Salamander, his weapon reeled over his shoulder, ‘One to go—!’

  ‘SHUCK!’

  A sharp cry left Shakar’s mouth. He looked down to see two daggers lodged within his stomach. He began to taste blood in his mouth.

  ‘He. Hit. Her.’ He thought. ‘How…’

  ‘Salamander,” Trix said, patting a few small flames off her clothes, “What did I tell you about watching where you shoot?”

  “Y-yeah, sorry ‘bout dat!” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He growled at Shakar, “Look what ya made me do! Now I’m really gon get it!”

  “You fiends!!” Willsworth yelled, “Immigrant, are you alright?!”

  Shakar gripped his stomach, ‘Just missed my pancreas, though the bleeding will be severe unless I do something…’ He stood up, clutching his stomach and flexed his muscles. ‘This’s got to stop happening. I can only fight for so long until—’

  “Gi immunity!” Willsworth continued, “That’s how those homeless beat you! They pulled the same stunt with me!”

  Shakar watched the two stare at him like hungry animals. He reached for his powder but found only his rope.

  ‘I really, REALLY need my clothes back.’

  Grimacing, he threw the rope around his stomach and raised his stick, “Enlighten me.”

  Trix’s blades clashed with Shakar’s weapon, watching as fire engulfed her—then him. Evading the best he could, he still found himself surrounded by bright orange heat. His breath came shorter, his eyes burned and his lungs felt as they were about to shrivel. Yet he gripped his stick he ran back at the woman, swiping furiously at her as the two exchanged blows. Shakar swiped, doing his best to dodge the occasional fireball as the Red Collar enlightened him.

  ”Gi Immunity is an act in which two people who spent years of their lives together can become immune to each other’s Talents by sharing their Inner-gi through—uh—let’s just say, intimate activity!”

  Shakar was cut in the cheek, shutting his eye closed as blood splattered on it. Relying on his senses, he scrambled left just as a fireball burned his arm. “The point, please!” he said.

  “They can’t hurt each other!” he yelled, watching Trix jump back into the air as Salamander ran to Shakar’s front. Willsworth slammed his hand on the cage, ignoring the pain, “It’s one of the hyper-defensive properties of Gi, and it goes both ways!”

  Shakar’s grimaced, watching Trix’s poncho pen in the air just as Salamander punched the wound on his stomach. He coughed blood as the man smirked at him. “And who told ya I can’t box?”

  ‘SK-SK-SK-SK-SK-SK-SK-SKINT!’

  The air screamed as hundreds of blades rained down on the two. Shakar extended his stick right and tried to evade, but Salamander grabbed him by the shoulders, his mouth wide open with flames while the blades overhead littered his field of view.

  “Dis might hurt!” Salamander said. “We ain’t gon kill ya, though! So be still—”

  “2-4-6-D3—2001!” Shakar yelled.

  ‘THW-SHOOOOOOM!’

  Shakar felt something take his waist and jerked his body backwards into the air so hard his neck nearly snapped. At the same time, an enormous dark tube shot forward and rose before the two homeless. It’s front opened to a jagged toothed filled mouth, and a harsh red spray was blasted on them.

  ‘WHEEEEEEESH!’

  The two screamed and Shakar felt his eyes burn. ‘Acid!’ he thought, ‘But how? And where did that thing come from?’

  Still in the air, he looked down to see Willsworth standing outside is cell, grinning from ear to ear. His shirt was torn at the stomach, which was stretched open to reveal sickly pink intestines spilling at his feet. The smaller one covered in blood pulsed with purple veins and was no thicker than a garden snake, its squishy form wrapping itself around Shakar. The larger one, which looked like it could swallow a bus, was raised in the air before Trix and Salamander, who lay on the ground, their bodies still steaming. Willsworth could only look at his stomach, then caress it. His finger clenched.

  “Y-yes…” he then pumped his fist in the air, “YEEEESSS!” he cheered, “Oh now I know how it feels to be free!” his crazed gaze caught Shakar’s eyes, “Oh thank you, THANK YOU my immigrant friend! We’ll settle your reward momentarily!” he laughed, clutching his torn stomach. “But first—!” He looked back at the two homeless, piled at the wall. “I’ve been waiting nearly a year to do this!”

  Trix grunted, “We never should’ve…trusted him!”

  Salamander scrambled to his feet and tried to hit Willsworth with fire, but the larger fleshy tube slid in the way. The man rubbed the body part, “Ooh, careful now! You might just give me a tummy ache!” he laughed.

  Salamander cursed. “Damnit, how’d he know da unlock code anyways?!”

  “Because his loyalty’s with them!” Trix said spat.

  The Red Collar stroked his intestine, “Yes, I actually have the same question.” He looked at Shakar, “I don’t think I gave you the last digits to the code.”

  Shakar tried not to roll his eyes, “You didn’t need to. The holding cell was an old model still used by police precincts and few county jails. They all have the same manufacturing code printed above the doorway in matching color.”

  “And you memorized it that fast eh?” Willsworth smiled to himself. “You have a bright future ahead of you, my immigrant friend. But first, allow me to deal with this street vermin.”

  Trix and Salamander tried to run, but the intestine was too agile—it spiraled around the two and tightened its body. Its veins flexed as their bones started to pop and crack.

  “Nnngh—no!” cried Trix.

  “Damnit, DAMNIT!” Salamander shouted.

  “Do you think you can get me down from here?” Shakar asked. “It’s rather high and I’m quite afraid of heights.”

  “In a moment, my friend,” Willsworth replied, “just a moment.”

  Shakar watched the organ tighten around the two even more, they hollered before going limp, and where dropped to the ground. ‘It’s the least they deserve,’ he thought. He turned his head, ‘But this guy…’

  “Hey, ‘friend’,” he said to the Red Collar, “What’s your Talent by the way?”

  The man gave a weird glance over his shoulder, then, looked back at the homeless. “Do you know what it’s like to starve?”

  Shakar was confused.

  “Go head, answer!”

  “…Yes.”

  “Excellent! Now, can you describe that exact same feeling,” he turned his full attention to Shakar, “while being surrounded by all the food you can eat?”

  Shakar looked at him. ‘Where is he going with this?’

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “My family owns the largest food distributer on the globe, yet no matter what I ate, I was never satisfied. Do you know how it feels to consume, yet stay hungry? By my preteens I developed intestinal failure and was given six weeks to live.” the large one slithered around the homeless like a snake, “God bless my desperate parents! They fed me everything, yet I continued to starve! But was a fool, so I ate, and I ate, and ate, and ate—until one day—I ate them!” he giggled, “Whoops!”

  “…”

  “It was an accident—honest! But for the first time, I knew what it was like to be satiated.” He sniffed, “The world became brand new to me again. I finally understood the need, the meaning for wildlife, trees, the ocean—even people—their Inner-Gi…” he placed his hand to his chest. “Those things all live for me.”

  The large intestine now aimed its head to Groundhogs. Its mouth gaped.

  “It wasn’t long after I’d be apprehended and placed in the collection to await my execution. They STARVED me! Can you believe it? But by then it didn’t matter because I planned to devour anything that came through that door…until she walked in.” A small smile formed across his lips, “I’ll never forget that eye of hers…the craving I felt from her was so great it made me forget about my own!” He fought back tears, “However, rather than kill me, she took my hand and told me with a smile; consider this your parole, now where would you like to eat?”

  Shakar gripped his stick tight.

  The intestine blitzed forward as he threw his head back while laughter erupted from his mouth. “Now, I say it’s time to eat!”

  ‘CHOMP!’

  The intestine’s mouth tore into the cave side wall, making the entire zone rumble. Willsworth grinned, waiting for his wounded body to heal. But nothing happened. He looked up to see his smaller intestine was vacant. His gaze narrowed and his eye traced over his shoulder. “Don’t tell me those filth were right about you…”

  The two were piled atop the cell while Shakar crouched in front of it, his stick extended to eight feet. The Red Collar frowned.

  “Immigrant...”

  “Apologies, but I know better than to trust a starving animal.”

  The large one swelled at its mouth, red liquid leaking from its corners, then, aimed its head to the roof to spray acid in the air. It sprinkled down in a sour haze, burning through anything it touched. Shakar dove under a nearby vendor, his eyes darting up to see the wooden roof was already disintegrating. He reached for his waist, gritting his teeth and hurling the rope around the large organ. The roof collapsed and he jumped out, ignoring the pain of the falling acid and looping the rope to his shrunken stick which he threw to the ground and grabbed the end.

  “Max!”

  The stick shot eight feet into the ground. A growl erupted from the massive intestine as it was wrangled to the ground, launching the Red Collar along with it.

  “Argh!” he cried

  ‘Now’s my chance!’ he thought, already darting full sprint to him. However, the small intestine shot through the air, bouncing around the zone and pelting his body. Shakar’s body rag dolled though the air

  ‘This thing—!’ he thought. He reached for his rope, gripping it for dear life as his body was pummeled. ‘It’s as if I’m in a hailstorm—made of bowling balls!’

  Willsworth’s enraged face lifted from the ground. “LET ME EAT YOU!”

  With a screech, the large intestine’s mouth expelled more acid—this time the ground. It splashed through the zone, quickly flooding it. His head shot to the cell.

  ‘The others!’

  But no one was there. Just then, the small one darted to him again—but this time he yanked his rope back, letting the end of his stick bonk it out of the air.

  “OUCH!” Willsworth hollered, “That hurt you immigrant!!!”

  With a roar, the large organ rose up, dragging Shakar high. Before he could react, it swung its body to the young man knocking him into the high wall near the curved ceiling. He gripped his stick and landed on the balls of his feet—quickly shifting to his heels. However, his thigh throbbed and he coughed blood again. His body began to slide down, forcing him do ram his stick in the wall while using his free arm and good leg to wrap his rope around himself again.

  ‘Even safe landing won’t work much longer,’ he thought, watching the Zone fill with red acid and the immense intestine slither in and out like a serpent. He saw bits of the wall getting nicked and chipped by what he assumed was the smaller one. ‘His small intestine seems more sensitive to pain. However, catching it again will be tedious…’

  Just then, blast of fire stuck the large organ, igniting the nearby acid. Willsworth bellowed, stumbling through the knee-high liquid as daggers struck the back of his knees. Trix and Salamander darted off the ceiling, gunning for the man. But the small organ whipped them back. The two caught the walls as acid splashed at their feet.

  ‘I’d say we’re mutual—for now,’ Shakar thought. Ignoring his leg, he burst off the wall to the Red Collar. The large intestine shot toward him, but he extended his stick to eight feet, catching the bottom of the mouth and vaulting over it, sliding down the rubbery and slippery surface to the man’s stomach. He shrieked.

  “Gah! Get away!!”

  The small one screamed through the air, zipping toward him. But Shakar had already reeled his arms over his head, holding both ends of his two foot stick.

  “WAIT, FRIEND! WE CAN—!”

  But Shakar released his back hand, slamming the weapon on the man’s stomach.

  ‘WHAM!’

  “YEEEEOUUUUCH!” Willsworth cried, retracting his smaller organ. The large one roared, flailing through the air as it dropped.

  ‘SPLURSH!’

  Shakar stood on the fallen man’s belly, ‘As expected. His mesentery is where his Gi swelled the most.’ He noticed the small intestines flailed on the ground while Willsworth groaned, reaching for his stomach. Shakar looked back at the homeless.

  “Now’s your chance—”

  ‘WHOOOOOSH!’

  A massive wall of flames engulfed both him and the Red Collar.

  “Keep at it Salamander!” Trix called, “Keep them at bay until the rest show up!”

  “Argh!” Willsworth cried, “Argh! AHHH! AH—hahahaha! BWAHAHAHHA!”

  Laughter filled the air as the large intestine’s mouth sucked away the flames. A shiny black loafer stomped into the ground where the Collared man stood proudly, grinning from ear to ear. He clapped his hands, “What a spicy appetizer!” his face became minacious, “Now, for the main course!”

  Blasts of fire, clinking metal, intestines splashing and thrashing pounded Shakar’s ears from where he was slumped on the rubble, his hand barley holding his stick. However, despite his burnt, stinging skin and crisped clothes, he could only focus on her—the archive master’s old smiling face. A face no different from the other homeless. The mere sight of it was all it took for his hand to hand its way to the top of his kufi.

  But the moment he so much as so caressed the fabric…

  ‘BZZZZZZZRRRRRR—THUMP!’

  An even worse pain struck through his body like lightning, making him see brief flash and jolting his hand back. He coughed blood. As much as he wanted to, his body refused to.

  ‘Perhaps for the better,’ he thought as his vision started to clear.

  Laying back in Zone 4, Shakar sat up looked on. He noticed a smoking red metal tube floating in the distance. He furrowed his brow and glanced over his shoulder, noticing the three rockets behind him. His fingers traced the cold metal—and yanked it away.

  ‘That’s…not good,’ he thought. He looked ahead, watching Willsworth gleefully whip his small intestine around at Trix, who deflected it as fast as she could while Salamander coughed two balls of flames at each side of the man. But the large intestine slithered, wrapping itself around him and quickly uncoiling. Its massive length smacked the two back.

  “Now hold still!” Willsworth said, trying to get the small one around them again. They darted out and went back to his front. The Red Collar’s head shook with rage. “Forget this! If you would like to continue our dance then see me outside!” he swung his massive organ at where the door was, sending even more cracks along the wall.

  ‘He has the advantage, yet he wants to escape?’ Shakar thought, ‘No, not escape—refuel!’

  He looked on at the smoking missile, then the Red Collar. Taking a deep breath, he took the rope from his waist again, cringing as his peeled off his wound. ‘At least the heat from that blast appears to have cauterized it,’ he thought. Looping it around the missile, he dragged it toward him, careful not to bump it against anything.

  ‘I’m clearly on my own on this,’ he thought. He pulled it to the rocks aimed it at the large intestine. He held his side of the rope firm and planted his feet in the rubble. ‘Well—here goes nothing.’

  He hit the back of the missile with his stick, causing a puff of fire to wheeze, then, ignite, propelling it forward and quickly picking up speed. Shakar felt his arms jolt forward and leaned back as much as he could, raising the weapon from the acid. As he did, the homeless landed atop the cell.

  “Trix!” Salamander said, reaching for his black cigar, but the woman shook her head.

  “Don’t even think about it!” she replied. She began unloading as many daggers as she could into the large intestine, “Your lungs still need time to rest!”

  “Da ain’t gonna matta if we all dead!” he shot back, about to put the cigar to his lips anyways. However, his moth gaped and pointed to the woman, “Behind ya!”

  Her head shot back to see the red missile flying near them, forcing the two to slam their stomachs the cell, hearing it scream overhead. Her gazed went to Shakar, watching him guide the weapon with his extended rope.

  “That fool!” she shrieked, “Is he trying to kill us?!”

  “Dat ding hits, it’s takin’ all o’ Haven out!” Salamander said.

  “Yes! Great work my former immigrant frien—” Willsworth began before seeing the missile loop around and return back to him. His face stretched, “GYAAAAAAAAA!”

  Shakar tensed, ‘I’ve been spotted—it’s now or never!’

  Willsworth stumbled to the right as the smoking weapon swooped over the acid. With a roar, he fired more acid at missile, but Shakar strained his arms, guiding it like a kite through the shots of bodily fluid tearing into the cave. Shakar heard metal clink over his shoulder, catching Trix out the corner of his eye sprinting for him.

  “You need a time out!” she exclaimed, swinging her daggers.

  Shakar leaped ahead, feeling the missile drag him off the ground and then carry him away. The woman’s eyes filled with rage.

  “Salamander!” she screamed.

  “I got’s him!” he laughed, leaping in the air and throwing his chest back.

  “WAIT!” she cried.

  But before he could, the large organ swatted him out the air as its mouth snapped at Shakar’s ankles. Willsworth’s enraged blue eyes shone through his messy and bloodied sandy hair.

  “No, I’LL GET YOU!” he roared, watching the large organ’s mouth chomp through the high wall and ceiling as it pursued Shakar. However, the missile picked up too much speed and blitzed through the air, zigzagging and swirling before swooping for Willsworth again even faster. The man dove into the acid again. With a cry, he slammed his fist.

  “THAT’S IT!”

  His large intestine dove into the acid. It’s tooth-filled mouth opened, and everything rushed to it. “I wanted you all fresh, but now I don’t care!!” he shouted.

  The acid was quickly drained from the Zone leaving the ground stained and discolored. Shakar looked down, noticing the ceiling seemed much higher. He blinked, ‘Was the ground this low before?!’

  Looking ahead, he then saw the large intestine’s mouth was swollen and quivering, acid leaked from its mouth. Without a second thought, he gritted his teeth and leaped off the wall, yelling and hurling his shoulders and arms forward. The missile dragged him to the head of the organ just as its mouth opened.

  “YOU WON’T PUT ME BACK!” he bellowed. “I REFUSE!!!”

  Shakar watched the missile begin to glow as acid burst from the intestine. He felt his hand open, releasing his rope. The projectile collided with the scorching liquid. It’s glowing form shone brighter and brighter as it powered through the stream like a fish upstream. Shakar felt droplets pelt his body. He seemed to hover in the air above the sight, as if watching a shooting star. His hand reach for his kufi and saw flashes again. Though this time he shifted his focus—the bread woman, the children, Mr. Holdover, and even Xole. He pulled his hat over his eyes and grimaced.

  ‘Let me set the example then.’

  “DIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEE!” Willsworth screamed.

  The missile flew into the mouth. Then, the intestine glowed brightly—

  ‘SPLUR-SPLUR-SPLUR-SPLUR-SPLUR-SPLUR-SPLURRRRRRRRRSH!’

  The organ popped downward like a bloody firecracker all the way to the Red Collar’s stomach, whose eyes bulged cartoonishly wide.

  “M-my…tu…mmy—”

  ‘SPLUR—BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!’

  The bloody blast was instant; then silent. A streak of red was left where he stood. Trix and Salamander looked at each other, then, the wreck. Carefully, they went over to the remains of the intestine, surveying the scene step by step. Bits of bloody flesh lay all over the ground, as well as the lined missiles and rocks. All that remained was his red tie. Salamander picked it up and shrugged at her.

  “Uh…how ‘bout we jus’ split dis one?”

  “Agreed,” she said. She looked around, “I don’t see the other one anywhere.”

  “Den can we count him too?” Salamander asked, “I didn’t see no Colla, maybe we can use dat hat o’ his.”

  The woman giggled, “If our suspicion checks out with the rest, then maybe. For now we’ll have to tell Abbas the other fellow—”

  “Right here the whole time, right?” Shakar said from a distance. The two’s gaze shot to the man, who almost couldn’t see him because of how well his bloodied clothes blended in with the wall he was propped on. He waved with a weak smile, “You two made stopping him quite the task. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were working with him.”

  He’s still alive,” Trix said.

  “And banged up to,” Salamander added. He grinned and glanced at the woman, “Looks like we can toss him in and tell Abbas da news.”

  “Agreed.” She replied.

  Shakar shook his head. “Honestly, I never understood the value in special education until working with you two.”

  Trix scoffed, “What’re you even talking about?”

  “I made sure in case I was found out, I had a friend.” He took another breath and glanced at the door. “He may be idiotic, slow—stupid, I’ll admit, but when he needs to come through, I can’t think of anyone else to bet on.”

  Then the door slid up, then, fell apart. Everyone’s attention shot at the front to see Xole standing there, stunned gaze. “Uhh,”

  Then Abbas stepped behind him, the large man simply looked left, then right, then at Shakar. “Trix, Salamander,” he said, “What happened here?”

  “Mr. Holdover’s acquaintance broke our Red free.” She looked at the bloodied mess, “We fought him off, now he’s gone.”

  “Yup!” Salamander said, “Saw da whole thing.”

  Xole looked over, “Shakar, why?”

  Shakar blinked.

  Abbas dropped his head and shook it. He approached Shakar, looking down at the young man, and then at the empty glass cell. “It seems you have a lot to answer for.”

  Shakar pressed his lips together, “I suppose this terminates our agreement?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “…”

  “Why would you do it?!” Xole demanded, “These guys did nothing but help us and here you go making things worse! With the government of all people!”

  Again, Shakar was silent.

  “Whelp,” Salamander lit a cigar, “Dere goes dat bet.”

  “…I wasn’t talking about Xole,” Shakar said. Suddenly, the entire zone riveted with an immense pressure, shaking the damaged walls and sending parts of the ceiling down. Seeing the air vibrate before them, everyone’s gaze shot to the doorway where a figure stood for a moment, then, Mr. Holdover stepped slowly into the room with a beady-eyed twitch.

  “You fat…ass…LIAR!” he boomed.

  “I was talking about him.”

  “So,” Mr. Holdover said, pacing back and forth in front of the Groundhogs while pointing, “which one of you fucks did this?”

  The group glared, leaning towards him in their fighting stances.

  “Oh, don’t you all answer at once now!” Mr. Holdover said.

  ‘This is…different,’ Shakar thought, ‘He seems genuinely concerned about me.’

  “He should’ve been prying!” Trix hissed. “We have strict rules—”

  “Lady, WHO the fuck are you talking about?!” Mr. Holdover’s gaze quickly scanned the room, finding Shakar slumped behind the Groundhogs and Xole. “Oh, when did you get here, Kuf?”

  ‘…’

  “Trix is correct, Mr. Holdover,” Abbas said, stepping forward with his cane, “What your friend did was a violation of the rules here, and by extension, our agreement.” He looked Mr. Holdover in the eye so the man could see his reflection in his sunglasses, “There will be repercussions.”

  “Our ‘agreement’, huh?” Mr. Holdover said. He reached behind him and yanked out a gray notebook, “What’s this ‘Jacob 1952’ then, hmm?”

  The large man started at Mr. Holdover while Salamander glared.

  “Why is this book damn-near empty?” Mr. Holdover continued, “And the little information here is stuff we already know?”

  “This is a learning experience for not only you, but myself as well,” Abbas said. “I wish you did not break into Prime Hill just to confirm such a fact.”

  “Mr. Holdover, what’s wrong with you?!” Xole asked, “First Shakar, now you too? Are you both that dead-set on stopping my—”

  “Boy,” Mr. Holdover pointed to Xole without looking, “shut up.” He then reached behind him and took out another notebook, this time in black reading, [Jacob 1954]. Abbas’s calm demeanor began to show a few cracks, staring with his quivering hand. Mr. Holdover aimed the book at him, “If this is new to you all, then why the hell is this book filled from beginning to end with info? On another Spiritual user at that! Is that why you kept it hidden?”

  The group exchanged glances. Even Xole looked at them, puzzled. “What’s he talking about, Abbas?”

  “Young one, deception is—”

  “So that’s where we’re going then, huh?!” Mr. Holdover said, “Ok, why don’t we bring D. Clark in here? That name ring a bell to you? Anyone?”

  Now Xole could see the Groundhogs were visibly uncomfortable, their bodies tense, and breaths shallow.

  “Or did you already kill him?” Mr. Holdover went on. “Ha! I’ll bet Kufi would’ve been next cause he probably saw some shit!”

  ‘This man’s ability to come to relevant conclusions,’ Shakar thought, ‘off the most paranoid of leads is both equally impressive and outrageous.’

  “Admit it!” Mr. Holdover pointed to Abbas, “You were gonna keep exploiting us until you got what you wanted from the boy!”

  Abbas looked at Mr. Holdover, then, at Xole, who seemed torn. He sighed, his shoulders rising only to slump. He put Mr. Holdover’s hand down, “Let us talk in back in Zone 1. I believe some of us are in need of medical attention.”