4 - A Mission!!?

Soy Mortal

12:00 AM

"You're still the same, Marek."

A voice echoed through the dimly lit room. Marek's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the shadows. No one. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his senses sharpening as he tried to pinpoint the source.

"No need to be alarmed. It's just me."

A figure emerged from the corner—an old man, tall and lean, his greyish hair catching the faint light. Marek exhaled sharply and sank back into his seat, resuming his writing.

"Not even a greeting?" the old man mused, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. He tapped his fingers on the desk, waiting.

"What do you want, old man?" Marek finally growled, glaring.

"Nothing..."

The old man stood and wandered the room, pausing in front of a portrait. A faint smile touched his lips. "I came to give you advice, Marek."

Marek's grip tightened around his pen. "Advice? Oh, I see. This is about 'him', isn't it?" He shot up, closing the distance between them in two strides. His smirk was razor-sharp as the temperature in the room plummeted, his aura flexing like a coiled serpent.

The old man chuckled. "You really are a piece of work." He stepped past Marek, unfazed. "Relax… before you get hurt."

A tense silence. Then, with a click of his tongue, Marek reeled in his power. The cold dissipated.

"So I can't mess around, huh?" He retreated to his desk.

"Drop out of all illegal dealings," the old man said.

Marek's eyes widened. "So you agree—"

"And bring 'him' back," the old man interrupted. "A storm's brewing. We need him to keep it in check."

Marek's forced smile twitched. "I can handle it. I have the power to back it up!"

The old man laughed—a dry, knowing sound. "Power? That's what you call 'that'? Try going overseas. There are monsters there who'd give even 'him' a run for his money."

Marek's jaw clenched. "Then how do I get strong?"

The old man's smile softened. "You're asking the wrong question."

And with that, he was gone.

Marek stared at the empty space. 'Wrong question? What the hell does that mean? Another damn riddle?' Snatching his phone, he dialed a number—Captain Smite.

×××

Finally. My back is killing me.

Cass stepped out of the car, stretching her stiff limbs. The driver gave a curt nod. "I'll contact you. In the meantime, look around for anything useful."

As the car vanished down the road, she turned to face her apartment—a twelve-story building, its red bricks cracked with age. The stench of rotten eggs hit her. She pinched her nose, spotting an overflowing dumpster swarmed by flies.

Minutes later, she pushed open her apartment door. The familiar scent of home wrapped around her. The space was minimalist—kitchen to the side, living room ahead, barely furnished. She trudged past it all and collapsed onto her bed, darkness swallowing her instantly.

×××

"You sure we shouldn't have brought her?"

"She needs rest. Especially after what happened at the port."

"Rest? Like some 'human'?"

"Give it a break, will you?"

×××

The waves crashed against the shore, the pink sunset painting the horizon.

"We're ready, sir."

Marek turned. A sailor stood at attention, eyeing his odd outfit—a black tracksuit layered with a formal white tee, tie, blazer, and sneakers. His hair, usually gelled back, now fell loosely over his forehead.

"Good. Let's go fetch ourselves a 'boss'," Marek drawled, sarcasm dripping.

The sailor coughed awkwardly and walked off, Marek following.

×××

Soft snores filled the room. Cass lay sprawled on her bed, the blanket discarded, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow.

Buzz. Buzz.

"Hmm…?"

Buzz. Buzz.

She groaned, blindly swiping at her nightstand until her fingers closed around her phone. Squinting, she answered.

"Hello… who is this?"

"What do you mean, 'who is this'? It's Lee. Were you sleeping?"

She bolted upright. "No. Anyway, why'd you call?"

"You totally were. Just get your ass to the pub down the street. We're meeting in five."

The line died.

Cass stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her eyelids heavy. 'Shit. And I still need to find Luci.'

Five minutes later, she was out the door, the cool night air sharpening her senses. 'I'm so dead if the captain finds out I overslept.'

×××

The pub's neon sign buzzed, a line stretching down the block. Cass ignored the protests as she strode past the crowd, stopping in front of a hulking bouncer.

"To the back, ma'am," he growled, grabbing her arm.

She didn't budge.

He strained, muscles trembling, as if trying to move a boulder. Cass offered a tight smile.

"Can I go in?"

The bouncer released her, panting. After a muttered exchange into his earpiece, he opened the door.

Inside, strobe lights flashed, bass shaking the floor. The stench of alcohol and cigarettes clung to the air. Cass scanned the room—then spotted Jeremy waving like an idiot from the VIP balcony.

"Took you long enough!" he slurred, downing his drink.

"So you 'were' sleeping," the captain said.

"No, I got held up."

He smirked, handing her a glass. "We're meeting an informant."

"Where is he?"

Jeremy hiccuped. "Late. Like someone."

Cass rolled her eyes, sinking into the plush couch. The VIP section was quieter, the music muted.

Then a voice cut through. "Yo."

A man stood before them. Jeremy lurched up, slapping his hand in a messy high-five.

"You're wasted, man!" the stranger laughed.

The captain stood, extending a hand. "You the informant?"

"That's right."

Jeremy blinked. "Wait… you're my buddy!"

Cass sighed. "He just said he's the guy."

Gesturing for him to sit down, Jeremy flopped next to Cass.

Jeremy squinted, then shrugged, chugging another drink. Cass grabbed his wrist. "Easy. You're overdoing it."

Jeremy winked, smirking.

The captain and the informant fell into a debate about cars, tension simmering beneath the small talk. Jah—the blonde—watched Cass and Jeremy's silent exchange, brow furrowed.

Then, abruptly, the informant leaned in. "Shouldn't we get to the point?"

The captain blinked. "We are talking."

The informant's gaze flicked to Jeremy. "Later, then. Don't you think, Mr. Lee?"

A beat. Captain Lee shrugged.

Jah frowned. "So? What've you got for us?"

The informant grinned—just as Cass "accidentally" flung her drink onto Jah's shirt.

"Oh, my bad."

Jah forced a smile. "It's cool. This totally wasn't expensive."

Cass massaged her neck, eyes darting. Jah caught the signal.

The informant cleared his throat. "Anyway… you're looking for info, right?"

Jeremy burst into drunken laughter. "I—I still can't believe it's you! B-but I'm glad… means I can trust you!"

The captain howled with laughter. Cass coughed, hiding her own smirk.

Jah exhaled. 'Is this idiot really buying Jeremy's act?'

The informant chuckled. "You always were like this."

Jah's jaw dropped.

"It's a bit noisy here," the informant said suddenly. "Let's move somewhere quieter."

Cass frowned. The balcony was quiet.

As they stood, Jah lingered, watching Jeremy and Cass.

"What's with the act?" Jah muttered. "You look like an idiot, idoit."

Jeremy patted his shoulder, swaying. *"His act's working. Our guest feels at ease, doesn't he?" Cass said.

Jah glared. "This shirt was expensive. Unless you've got something to say?"

She winked. "I don't mind paying."

Jake—lost in the chaos—scowled. What the hell is even happening?

×××