- Quality Brother Time

(This chapter has rather graphic and mature themes.)

Two days later...

Frizz and Weng wandered through the mall after finishing their shifts. They'd spent most of their time snacking and pulling pranks, the two brothers chuckling as they almost choked on their burgers after causing a security guard to bump into a shopping cart.

"Okay, now pull that one," Weng suggested and pointed at the entrance of a branded clothes store, mischievously snickering. "Do it subtly, not like before."

"Alright, alright." Frizz softly chuckled, telekinetically pulling the showcased line of clothes and causing it to topple.

The stack of clothes fell, taking the entire shelf down with it, causing a loud crash. *Thud!* Employees snapped their heads towards the noise and hastily moved to fix the collapsed mess.

"Oh shit! Hahahaha!" Weng exclaimed, clutching his stomach from the laughter and pain. "My stomach hurts!" He muttered, laughing.

Frizz's eyes bulged in surprise, looking away at the destruction with a barely concealed grin on his face. "Crap... Hahaha."

The duo walked away, leaving the clothing store employees to face their manager's ire, scrambling to fix the mess. "Now that's a proper wardrobe disaster." Weng whispered, causing Frizz to snicker and almost dropping the half-eaten burger.

Frizz glanced at his older brother; the usual stress had left Weng's face, replaced with childlike joy. His older brother was a busybody, always focused on his job and the welfare of his family since he was the eldest.

Frizz observed his older sibling; he was bothered with his fashion choice, always preferring to wear old and rugged-looking clothes. "You know, you should wear better clothes next time. Your wardrobe doesn't complement your face." He commented, looking at Weng's long-sleeved pale shirt and worn-down black jogging pants. "Fix your scruffy-ass hair too, man."

Weng was attractive, even more so than Frizz, and had a muscled build. However, Weng was shorter, around seven centimeters shorter but still tall. His older brother listened to his suggestions but paid it no mind. "I dress for comfort, not fashion."

"Cleanliness is next to godliness, you know?" Frizz countered. (Comfortable with old-ass clothes?)

"So what, I smell?"

Frizz paused, momentarily looking for the right words. "No, you just look not so neat." He answered, unsure of whether it was rude. "Also, I didn't say you smell."

Weng dismissively waved his hand, not wanting to further converse on this topic anymore, and instead changed it. "So, what's your goal now?"

"Now? Probably to clean this city."

"Not just figuratively, literally too."

"Huh? What do you mean literally?" Frizz questioned, confused at his older brother's answer. "Like, do you actually want me to literally clean this city?

"Cleanliness is next to godliness, right?" Weng countered, smirking. "But in all seriousness, our city sucks and our environment too."

"We have a river in our town, and have you seen it recently? It's dirty and is made into some sort of dumping ground for trash, and I hate it." Weng muttered, throwing away the burger wrapper. "Our beaches too, people—or rather, squatters—throw away their trash at the sea, and no one ever bats a single eye."

"I get that you're ridding our city of criminal elements, and I commend you for that, but maybe look at our environment too?" Weng added, hoping his younger brother would see his way.

Frizz sighed, slightly understanding Weng's concern. "I get what you're saying, but what do you want me to do? My level is currently low, and I don't have any powers that can make trash disappear, and even if I do have one, most of our problems come from the people themselves, no proper waste management, poor infrastructure, and an uneducated populace." He countered, explaining the problems.

"I mean, I can assure you that I will at least clean the river in our town, but the beaches, the trash, and the pollution in our city? I can't do anything."

Frizz huffed, sighing and becoming uninterested. "I am way more concerned with leveling up and getting stronger; I don't think I can achieve that by picking up trash." He countered, noticing the gloomy face of his older brother.

Frizz silently exhaled upon seeing Weng's expression gloom and scratched the back of his head. "If I can get some cloning skills or spells, then I will consider it. Otherwise, don't expect me to clean this city because of our government's inefficiency."

Weng softly smiled, his mood becoming slightly brighter. "Ah, it was just a suggestion anyways. The criminals are a priority," his older brother chided. "Speaking of criminals, I think I know where you can start."

"Oh?" Frizz muttered, curious about his older brother's remark.

Five and a half hours later...

Weng cupped his hands, blowing into it as he felt the late night's chilly breeze. He glances at his watch, 11:04 PM, it displayed. (I wish I wore a jacket, and why did he suggest wearing masks?)

Frizz, masked and wearing a hat, however, just stared forward, curious about the location his older brother had brought him. (I wonder what Mina and Yani are doing right now. I hope they're okay.)

"Seriously? You're not cold?"

"Nah," Frizz answered while Weng scanned him. (He's only wearing a shirt; how is he not cold? Is it one of his so-called perks?)

Weng suddenly remembered his younger brother's old friend, the injured and out-of-commission boxer. "How's Mill lately?"

"He's doing okay; I am planning to visit him soon," Frizz replied. (I should bring donuts for him.)

Frizz stared forward, scrutinizing the building in front of them. The building looked old and unfurnished, like a storm just passed by and the owners didn't bother to renovate the front. Two intimidating men with holstered batons can be seen at the entrance, seemingly guarding the entry.

Growing impatient with his older brother's obscure reasons for why the two of them were there, Frizz spoke up. "So why are we here? Is this some drug den? Meth? Opium? Heroin? Cocaine?" he spoke, listing the possible drugs to be trafficked.

Weng chuckled, his expression turning serious for a moment. "Worse, it's a bar that employs women as young as sixteen or seventeen to be sex workers for tourists or rich locals."

The revelation caused Frizz to gape in surprise—at his brother's knowledge, rather than the sex trafficking ring. "How the hell did you know that?"

Weng locked eyes with his younger sibling, Frizz. "Word of mouth, I used to work in a high-end bar and sometimes." Weng paused, looking for a way to sanitize his next words. "I would overhear tourists scratching their specific itches."

Frizz broke eye contact, staring with disgust at the building in front of them. (Is this related to Yani's loan sharks or Baron's elderly boss crime syndicate? Or maybe they're all connected?)

"Stay here, Weng," Frizz ordered, revealing two pipe wrenches from behind him but not taking them out. "There is only one solution to these kinds of establishments."

Weng, surprised, pulled on Frizz's jacket sleeves. "Hey! What the hell? Just like that? You'll charge in?" he says in worry, furrowing his brows and clattering his teeth.

"Yes, I told you. My class is rather basic. I really don't have any alternatives."

"Can't we just call the cops or give an anonymous tip to the NBI?"

"What? That defeats the purpose of you bringing me here then? You brought me here to clean this city, right? Because our law enforcement sucks?" Frizz stated, confused by his brother's second-guessing.

Weng paused, looking away. "I'm just worried; what if something happens to you?"

"Then keep the cops on speed dial. Trust me, nothing will happen to me. I've been stabbed, shot, and tortured before."

"Tortured!?" Weng loudly exclaimed, surprised by his younger brother's admission. "What do you mean, tortured!?"

Frizz blankly stared at his older brother, realizing his slip. (Crap. I still have yet to tell him about that.) he mused, then shaking his head.

"Weng, just stay. This will be quick, trust me." Frizz confidently stated, whisking away the pull on his sleeve then approached the building.

"Hey, someone's coming." A guard notified his partner, poking him. "Can we help you?" The other guard inquired at the incoming masked man with a hat who was now slightly towering over the two. The smoking guard felt suspicious and slowly unsheathed the baton.

*Thwack!* A quick straight jab at the questioning guard's face.

*Thwack!* Then he followed with another backhanded swing at the surprised guard.

Both of them fell, unconscious from the sudden quick strikes. Frizz looked back and gave an 'okay' hand gesture to his brother as he unlocked the door and entered the building.

Frizz instantly covered his nose; the place reeked with an overwhelming combination of alcohol, sweat, and cheap perfume. Sultry music played on a loop from overhead speakers, loud enough to mask his movements.

Suddenly, a man lunged from a darkened corner, trying to tackle Frizz, but he side-stepped him and causing the attacker to slam his face against the wall. "AGH!"

Frizz delivered a downward chop to the man's back, sending him collapsing, unconscious. "Huh, my body dodged on its own again. I didn't even see him coming."