League of Intrigue

The girl opened the door, and I almost stumbled backward in surprise. It didn't creak. Not even a whisper. In the slums of Section 3, every hinge screamed bloody murder when you so much as looked at it funny. This? This was downright eerie.

"Why doesn't the door creak?" I blurted out, my voice thick with suspicion.

The girl turned back to me, her lips quirking up in amusement. "Why should it creak?"

I frowned. "Doors creak. It's what they do. It's their... door-given right or something."

She raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "You're getting real hung up on this whole creaking thing, aren't you?"

"It's not my fault," I grumbled, crossing my arms. "Doors creak. It's a universal constant. Like gravity. Or disappointment."

"Well, this one doesn't," she said, her grin never faltering. But with my enhanced vision, I caught the nervous twitch at the corner of her lips. Her heartbeat spiked slightly—a faint sign of frustration. "Can you get over it now?"

I muttered under my breath as I stepped through the doorway, "Doors should creak. What's the point of a door if it doesn't creak?"

She ignored my door-related existential crisis and walked over to a panel on the wall, flipping a switch. The room lit up instantly, hitting me with a flood of bright light that made me squint. It was like someone had taken the sun, shrunk it down, and stuffed it into light bulbs. My eyes adjusted quickly—thank you, snake powers—and what I saw next made my instincts flare like a bonfire.

The room was massive. No, scratch that. It was gargantuan, especially compared to the rat holes we called home in Section 3. It was fully furnished with actual furniture, not the cobbled-together scraps I was used to.

There were honest-to-god couches that didn't look like they'd give you tetanus if you sat on them wrong. A polished table in the center, probably worth more than everything I'd ever owned combined. And hanging from the ceiling? A freaking chandelier, something which I only knew about from James himself.

The whole place reeked of wealth and luxury. My instincts, not the snake ones, the ones from living in Section 3, screamed at me to scavenge everything, to bring it back to the house.

But then I remembered. I couldn't go back to the house. Not after what happened. Not after what I'd done.

The memory of James and the others crept up, uninvited and unwelcome. They knew what happened when someone like me ate beast meat. Heck we had seen it with our very own eyes, the addicts that rummaged every corner of the Section 3. And now? Now I was the very thing he'd feared.

Two people walked down the stairs, yanking me out of my pity party. They looked a few years older than me.

One was a guy with hair the color of strawberry pink, bangs over his forehead. His hazel eyes were curious as he looked me over, he looked at me with slight suspicion, but mostly frustration I could hear his heartbeats beat wildly for some reason. 

The other was a girl with hair so blonde it was almost white, and eyes as red as fresh blood. Her gaze was sleepy, her eyes drooping every second, her heartbeat was slow, along with her temperature.

I sniffed the air instinctively, my nostrils flaring. They both smelled... like some other people in this city, like beasts.

"Is this the new one?" the guy asked, cocking his head toward me like I was some kind of science experiment.

"Yeah, Kyle," the girl who brought me here answered. "This is our new recruit. You won't believe it, he's from Section 3."

Kyle's eyes widened, clearly impressed. Or maybe horrified. It was hard to tell with these Section 2 types. "From the slums? How the hell did you get over the wall?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I let my fangs grow from my palms, long and sharp, piercing through my skin. Blood dripped onto the polished wooden floor, each drop sounding like a gunshot in the sudden silence.

"THE FLOOR!" the blonde girl suddenly shrieked, her slowed heartbeat picking up pace faster than I could say beast meat, darting down the stairs like her ass was on fire. Water appeared in her hand, swirling unnaturally before she directed it to the floor, cleaning up the blood in a matter of seconds.

I watched in amazement as the water floated in a perfect bubble, hovering over the ground. The girl muttered under her breath, her eyes fixed on the now-spotless floor. "Keep it clean, keep it clean, keep it clean..."

Alexandra tried to place a hand on my shoulder, but I caught the movement before she could touch me. My 360-degree vision was a constant now, always aware, always vigilant. It was like having eyes in the back of my head, or another head in the back of my head for that matter. My palm fangs retreated, then I shot out my hand, grabbing her wrist lightly, firmly, . "We're not that close yet."

Her smile faltered for a split second, but she recovered quickly.

"Okay, okay. No need to get all aggressive." She pulled her hand back, stepping aside. "Anyway, you've met Kyle, and this here is our resident neat freak, Isabel. Or Bel, as we call her." She nodded toward the blonde girl, still hovering protectively over the now-clean floor. "And I'm Alexandra. Alexandra the Great."

Kyle groaned, massaging his temples like he was trying to ward off a migraine. "Please don't call yourself that, Alex. We're not even a top-100 guild yet."

"I'll call myself what I am," Alexandra said, puffing her chest out proudly. "And what I am is great!"

Isabel, still on edge, mumbled her mantra under her breath, "Keep it clean, keep it clean..."

Kyle, clearly used to this routine, sighed and turned to Alexandra. "We can't keep wasting energy like this. We only have two ferals locked up downstairs. They'll only power this place for another week, if you cut down on your 15-minute showers."

I blinked, trying to process what I'd just heard. Ferals? Powering the place? It sounded like something out of a horror story, the kind of thing we'd whisper about around the fire in Section 3. But then again, I was standing here with fangs growing out of my palms, so who was I to judge?

Alexandra waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But right now, we've got more important matters to handle. Look at our new friend here." She gestured to me, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious about the dried blood and grime covering my skin. "Besides our friend here..."

Her voice trailed off as she looked at meas if urging to finish the sentence, "Truman, Aell Truman."

" Our friend, Aell Truman is covered in blood. We can't have him walking around like that, can we? What kind of image would that give the League?"

Kyle eyed me critically, his frown deepening. "Fine. He can hit the showers. But after that, it's lights out. We're running on fumes."

At that, Isabel's head snapped up, her red eyes wide with panic. "No! Not the showers! He's going to dirty them!" She practically leapt forward, her hands glowing as she summoned another ball of water.

Alexandra stepped in front of her, holding her back. "Bel, it's fine. He'll clean up after himself, right, Aell?"

I blinked, still trying to process the whirlwind of chaos I'd walked into. "Uh... sure?"

Isabel glared at me, her lips pressed into a thin line. "He better," she muttered darkly, her fingers twitching as if itching to clean something.

As I stood there, surrounded by these bizarre characters (not like I could judge), I couldn't help but think about how different this was from Section 3. 

"So," I said, breaking the awkward silence. "This League of Intrigue. What exactly do you guys do? Besides arguing about showers and floor cleanliness, I mean."

Alexandra's eyes lit up, and I immediately regretted asking. "Oh, we do all sorts of things! We hunt beasts, we capture said beasts, hand them over to the city or eat them!" She was practically bouncing with excitement. "And sometimes, we even go to war with Acheron."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Don't scare him, we do hunt beasts but we haven't had a war with Acheron since eight years ago because of how well surrounded Elysium has become."

Alexandra waved her hands dismissively. "Now, let's get our new friend cleaned up. We've got a big day tomorrow, and trust me, you're going to need all the rest you can get."

"Don't get them too dirty," Isabel chimed in, still eyeing me suspiciously.

"I won't, I won't sheesh, you're even worse than Max." I muttered walking past her, and behind Kyle as he led the way to the showers, whatever those were.