Kings of Hell

Months later

Alyssa’s POV

I read about my history online. I saw the pictures. Who I was to them. My moments as President of FC were overshadowed by the dominating soldiers at my side, watching every move I made.

I sit in the internet café, run by one of the returned locals.

I keep my hair braided, sunglasses carefully over my nose at all times, and my outfit is just a pink t-shirt and pink short shorts.

“On the house,” Yolanda approaches me with a black coffee, limping with one leg amputated from the war she escaped in Atlantis on the way out to FC.

The Zenith’s almost blew her in half with the detonation of bombs they used to wreck the cities’ defences, inadvertently killing innocent civilians recklessly who were in the blast zone, even some of the ones they claimed to ‘save’ got injured. I read all the independent articles every day, by rebels in the shadows, who were almost killed by the savage soldiers reigning hell on their New World city. It was shocking, and in that small regard I was happy to be in FC.

“Thank you,” I murmur to Yolanda as I take a sip of the coffee, my fingers trembling while being careful about not spilling it. The old grandma was good with secrets and I knew she would not give my identity away. She let me hide in here in her shop, as long as I wanted or needed.

I have a trench coat against the seat behind me, which I wore to cover my body when I was on the street. I only went on the street at night. To avoid detection.

So far, I had stayed underground, more off the radar than the Ultimates I was hiding from.

“Have you been in contact with your son yet?” Yolanda asks me, putting her hand on my shoulder, “Casey? I would love to see him again.”

“I haven’t worked up the courage, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot since you said I should approach him, and I trust your judgement,” I admit to her, looking over my shoulder at the sparse café. I was the only one here in this far corner, “But for now, I think I should stay out of sight from all of them until I’m sure what I want to do.”

“Casey helped me, when he was Shadow Mayor, he helped a lot of small businesses who were struggling, he set up all these computers for me himself 4 years ago,” Yolanda always beams about it. She lost her adult children in the massacre of FC, when Atlantis invaded. She reflected on Casey as a grandson, I think. It was sweet. She painted him as trustworthy, not brutal, but caring and involved in the local life.

STRIKE, on the other hand… Yolanda called them thugs. Thugs we needed, but thugs non the less. A mafia of sorts. A violent group. Who hung around whores and filth, manipulating children into spying for them, recruiting vulnerable citizens to be a part of their army. It was despicable. They weren’t a government, they were a militia, nothing else.

“Would you like me to make you some soup tonight?” she asks me, and I shake my head with a smile.

“I am not hungry –”

“You are never hungry,” Yolanda scolds me, “I will make you some, you have to eat!” She turns around with her crutches and stumbles off, “You will eat, Lisa!” it was my other name while I built up a new identity.

Just as Yolanda is heading off to the kitchen, the door chimes as it swings open, and I peek over my shoulder, never expecting trouble, after getting very comfortable with my spot for a few months of being undisturbed – but still – I should never have let my guard down.

One of them walks in.

The blonde one with the perfect face and blue eyes. Ace. He looks unarmed.

For the life of me, I don’t know how he doesn’t notice me right then, right there, but his eyes are instead focused on Yolanda instead, who is welcoming him loudly.

“Come, come, quickly, what do you want – ask it and get out, I don’t like to have your kind of trouble in my cafe,” Yolanda boldly snaps at the super soldier three times her size, as he walks to the counter.

I face my computer and immediately slide down into the seat, in a slouching position, closing all tabs and pulling up a game of solitaire.

I angle my head a certain way so the ancient computer screen picks up reflections from the counter, and I can spy on his movements and position.

“Just looking for a coffee, old lady, nothing else,” Ace is charming, but I get really irked by the old lady comment. How dare he speak to her like that. Like he had any idea what she had been through and the children she lost in the Ultimate Wars. Fucking arrogance.

“Oh, yes,” Yolanda scoffs, completely irritated by his presence, fully aware I am trying to stay out of his sight, as she makes the coffee and adds, “It is on the house,” she snaps again as he tries to hand over money.

Ace ignores her trying to push back the money at him, he disrespects her wishes by leaving the money on the counter anyway, and standing back, legs spread in a strong imposing stance and his bulging arms crossed over, as he looks down at her as she pours the coffee.

“Okay old lady, I admit, I lied to you. I’m looking for information,” he starts again, using an authoritative tone.

“No information,” Yolanda immediately responds, avoiding eye contact, “I am no spy for you.”

Ace growls a bit but realises she is too stubborn, so he holds up a condescending hand instead, “Just relax, old lady. I’m not here to hurt you.”

Yolanda slams down the take away coffee in front of him and purses her lips, refusing to say anything.

Ace catches her in a brief, intimidating staring competition, hoping her mental resolve breaks under his Ultimate gaze, and she’ll give him what he’s looking for.

Instead of complying, Yolanda loses her balance as her crutch slips, and she collapses.

I leap up from my chair, ready to race over and catch her before she hits the floor.

The exact same time that I’ve jumped to my feet and moved, Ace has reached out lightning fast to save her, pulling her back up before she fell on her side. He apologises quietly and sets her gently on her foot, while she steadies her crutch. Ace briefly looks back at me.

I freeze.

Again, he looks back at Yolanda, “Thank you,” he pushes the money closer toward her again.

He turns to leave, I turn to sit back down.

I moved too quick and it caught his attention, so he turned to look at me.

It didn’t register who I was, but it would. It would.

I sit back down anyway and immediately slouch again into the chair, hiding my face with one hand up near my eye, pretending to scratch my face, as I hear the door swing open, the bells chime – and the door slams shut.

I move my fingers down over my eye and the side of my face before he walks by the shop window, I recklessly peer out through a slit in my fingers to see Ace walking by the shop front, without looking back in twice.

He passes. I’m safe.

Oh fuck, thank you, he didn’t recognise me with the oddly shaped glasses, braids and pink outfit. I lower my hand, gulping, while I hear Yolanda wiping down the bench.

When I look over to her, I give her the thumbs up, and she smiles back at me.

I was safe still.

I keep playing my game of solitaire, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Lisa,” Yolanda speaks up all of a sudden, after she’s limped around the corner and gone very still, “…his C-Link fell on the floor...”

I turn around to see the bracelet.

It was a mobile device you wore around your wrist.

My heart beat reacts again, as I realise he’ll have to come back for it.

Yolanda brings up her crutch and goes to smash it in.

But then the door slams back open.

I immediately move my butt down another three inches over the seat, as Yolanda stops herself smashing the bracelet at the returned super soldier.

There is a heavy silence, and when I turn my head slightly to catch the reflection of the screen, I see why Ace is not speaking.

Because it’s not Ace.

Now it’s Dale. Oh, fuckity fuck fuck.

Dale has come for the C-Link, and he is looking at Yolanda after catching her in the act of trying to smash Ace’s property.

Without a word, Dale approaches and scoops up the C-Link before it’s destroyed.

Yolanda awkwardly stays silent and still in her guilty stance.

“Are you not paying taxes, what is it you’re hiding?” Dale asks her, straight to the point.

“Why would I be hiding anything from you, boss man,” Yolanda fires back, pointing her crutch toward the door, “With one bullet you can end me.”

“I do not kill old women –”

“No. You just kill their sons,” she fires back again, “Get out.”

Dale swings the C-Link around his finger, as he looks her over, calculating every single thing about her, trying to weave apart her mind.

“…is it something personal you have against us?” Dale drawls, “Tell me. What’s the matter?”

Yolanda turns from him, looking down, portraying some guilt and clearly intimidated by the mafia boss himself, scrutinising her. But even so, she refuses to answer or give anything away. She hobbles behind the counter.

Dale should take this moment to leave.

But he doesn’t fucking leave.

He keeps watching her, then his eyes start to roam over the room, down the counter, toward the floor and the walls.

I quickly angle myself out of the reflection and continue the game.

He better fucking leave right now.

I swear, if he doesn’t stop annoying Yolanda, if he doesn’t leave, I’ll have to make him – fuck the cover.

She helped me, and I owed her. I couldn’t sit back and let her get bullied like this!

I prepare for anything, especially as Dale takes no steps toward the exit.

Until he abruptly does.

He paces out backwards, for a moment I can feel his eyes glaze over my position. His eyes rest on my seat, on my chair and my back, and my screen. Then they slide off.

The door creaks, the bell chimes and this time I don’t feel confident to sit up straight away.

Fuck me, that was too close.

I wait.

I still feel under threat.

“Lisa,” Yolanda’s voice changes, a tad worried, “They’ve pulled up out front. Just letting you know. Okay. Still, stay still.”

I shift my head a bit, and I see a black sleek shape outside on the curb side.

The car.

I watch from the corner of my eye as a door opens, Dale climbs in, the door slams shut, and I exhale deeply.

I wait.

Come on, move.

The war machine rolls.

In reverse, closer to my position.

Fuck.

The car creeps back along the curb and the windows are too blacked out so I have no idea if they are all staring at me, or just reversing to get room to move out onto the street. I can’t tell unless I directly look and no way in hell am I going to give it away that easy.

I just gulp down my fear and wait, staying still, as Yolanda advised.

Come on. They can’t all be staring in here right?

Come on. Move.

Instead of the car rumbling off, all the doors violently slam open simultaneously. They’re getting out of the car all together!

I freak out. My instincts make me swivel in the chair away from them and immediately stand, looking to Yolanda for help.

“I’m going out the back exit,” I almost fucking whimper, terrified that they will find me all together.

“It is okay, Lisa,” Yolanda tries to reassure me, “…they are walking left… it is okay…”

I turn around too quickly to check what she said.

I see them all.

Dale, Serge and Ace are walking down the sidewalk together out of sight – probably going into the alley next to this internet café.

The problem is one remains to take a smoke outside the car.

Jose.

He’s leaning on a bent lamp post, lighting a cigarette, putting his lighter away into his pocket, he looks down the street. He’s standing guard.

He’s looking nowhere at me.

But I’m the one still staring at him.

I’m frozen in that moment, after freaking out so bad.

Jose slowly turns his head to the cafe front and breathes out a cloud of smoke.

His eyes scan the empty café, then jump up to the idiotic woman standing like a Christmas tree, legs spread and arms spread slightly in a panic, and what does he do?

He looks up to my glasses. To my face.

The cigarette is on his lips, he was about to breathe in, but now it hovers there instead – before he drops his hand, smoke still lit, as he casually tilts his head, assessing me.

The recognition doesn’t happen straight away.

It happens when he wants to look away, but can’t.

His eyes flicker, then focus on my body.

He knows.

But he’s not really sure how to process my outfit, my glasses, my braids, my awkward stance.

I spin to Yolanda again, finally regaining control of my movements.

“Back exit is to the alley, where the others are,” Yolanda tells me, “Best to face the one, with the other three out back.”

Yolanda goes to lock the back door.

She is solemn, but she trusts me.

She’s right.

As far as I know, they’re guarding the back waiting for me to run out and catch me. What if they did know the whole time?

Fuck.

Unless I’m just overreacting. They’re probably doing checks-ins for the businesses hidden out in the depths of the alley.

I turn to Jose, before he calls them over, I walk to the door and he sees me approaching so he stays calms before he does anything stupid. Hmm.

Anyway.

I can do this.

I can do this.

I can’t remember anything about them. About us. Or about him.

But I can still do this. I can confront him alone.

I kick open the door with my broken in white sneakers, where I had to put metal tips in to stop my nails shredding the material at the front.

I sling my thumbs into the tops of my pink shorts and I keep my glasses on my face as I face Jose, walking a little wide to the left and right, with a swagger, before stopping, my hips are thrust out in an awkward attempt to feel confident and casual.

Instead I probably look extra stiff, while trying to appear otherwise.

“Alyssa… where have you been?” Jose isn’t moving, his smoke is still at his side, but he says my name and the question quietly, eyes rolling over me. A harmless response. Um.

“You saw me,” I blurt, “Well, just so you know, I’m,” I gulp, now wiping my hand over my mouth as I try to find the right words, so he’ll understand, “I’m done,” then I swipe my hand through the air, “You feel me?” I wait for him to respond. He’s still as a statue, listening but with little to give away. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, “It’s all over,” I try that line, licking my lips, “You know?”

“No,” Jose blinks, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” I nod.

I try to keep my composure.

Instead my ears prickle and pick up heavy footsteps in the alley.

Three beasts.

They’re all coming back.

My instincts fire instructions at me like a machine gun, it doesn’t allow me a choice but to respond. The instruction is repetitive. RUN BITCH. RUN!

It’s like a memory of a soul I lost in the brain damage I acquired, almost a damn lobotomy. But the instruction is simple enough.

I’ve spun and started to sprint down the side walk, my glasses falling off my head and getting smashed under my sneakers as I skid around one corner and keep sprinting.

My arms are swinging wide, my legs are fucking flying.

I am a fast mother fucker.

Shit.

I heard nothing chasing me.

I definitely timed my random escape well.

I quickly turn into a rusted stair case off the side of an apartment complex, and I climb the first few levels, pushing aside neighbours lingering out on the steps, watering deformed pot plants.

I reach the top of a roof where some kids are spray painting the walls.

Down in the street, I hear a roar of a distinct war engine.

I lean over and watch as STR1KE creep around into the street I ran down, and they go right past the building I’m standing on top of.

I watch as they drive off, and I feel a sense of adrenaline surge through me.

A total success.

I got away!

I curl my fingers into my palms.

I was good.

I was fast.

I was smart.

I feel a little more confident now, that even if we run into each other again in future, I know I can get away again. Easy.

I turn to the kids spray painting, I am grinning – while they’ve put down their spray paint to stare at me, wide eyed.

“President!” one of the little girls points at me, squeaking out my former title I remember nothing about.

I nod anyway.

I feel proud.

The teen boys and girls, however, are awkwardly staring, while one of the boys brings his C-Link to his mouth and starts talking into it while looking at me.

“Hey, hey, what are you doing?” I ask, begging him to answer me. I run closer, and the boy drops his C-Link, “Who were you talking to?”

“Put her on.”

A voice comes through.

Distinctly Dale.

Spy kids.

Fucking damn it.

“He wants to talk,” The boy says, taking off his C-Link and tossing it to me.

I catch it, and see the call is still connected.

I’m breathing rapidly over it, too afraid to say anything.

“Alyssa,” Dale speaks more calmly now that he can recognise my breathing pattern, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I answer shortly.

“Where are you?” he asks, very kindly, very nicely, very – manipulative.

“No,” I answer short, and he doesn’t interrupt, he gives me time to form a sentence, “…I won’t tell you my location… Dale… and boys…” I suddenly find my confidence now, talking through a device, able to communicate with a safe distance between us all, “I’ve moved on from my past life. I hope you understand. I don’t remember you, and I don’t want to. I have read about my past. So in some regard, I understand my past. I do not hate you, or the others. I am just starting fresh. A new life for me. You know? You know what I mean?” He’s so quiet. He’s intently listening, I breathe in deeply and continue, “Dale, I know you and I had some kind of past, I’ve heard about it a lot from others. I know… how it was. I’m sorry. I’m not that girl – or woman. I… hope… you will respect my decision. I am happy alone. So, leave me alone. I won’t bother you. Don’t bother me. Let me be alone so I can figure out who I am. Without… voices telling me who I should be. I – I know that’s what we were. That kind of dynamic. I know…” I really have to gulp now, saying shyly, “…I know I was a toy… um… to you… and to the boys. Well I’m not anymore. You, you know? I – yeah. That’s all I want to say.”

“Yeah,” Dale responds, “I know,” Wow. Respect? I listen intently, as he now considers his words before he murmurs, “Even so, I’d love to make it up to you. So here’s a free invitation to the Black Lair clubhouse, any night, you’ll get free access.”

“Um, no, no, it’s okay,” I blurt, blushing a little, and noticing the other kids following me pacing around now and listening into the conversation, interested in where it leads, “No, no, I mean no thank you,” is all I can say.

“Just remember what I said, okay doll?” Dale asks.

I purse my lips and hang up the call myself, handing the C-Link back to the kid.

He takes it and asks, “Wanna do some art with us?”

“No,” I laugh, “But thanks. I just have to go... be somewhere.”

I turn from the kids and trot back to the stairs, to make my way back down.

At the bottom of the rusted stair case, I feel great.

I stand on the side walk, deciding where else I should go as the night settles in.

My nose crinkles, with a strange metallic smell, and cigarette smoke – even though no one is near me.

I smell it so strong, a combination of liquor, money and cigar smoke. I’m totally perplexed, just as the curb flashes before my eyes.

A metallic sheen that was gleaming with an invisibility shield, completely drops away to reveal what was hidden.

UM.

I’m standing inches from the curb and the black war machine, with the passenger window down.

Uh, uh, fuck?!

Oh, no!

I stare with wide eyes at Dale, who looks awfully unthreatening.

Instead, he is holding a business card in between his fingers, offering it to me.

I look at that card and then at his purple tyrian eyes, so extremely beautiful – insanely cool.

Okay. Um. Yes. He’s offering me a card.

That’s all. A number.

I take a very hesitant small step forward, reaching for the card.

As I reach for it, Dale teases me by bringing his hand back into the car, just out of reach, but tempting me to come grab it.

He smirks when he notices the frustration on my face and my hand still mid-air.

Giving in, he swings his fingers and the card outside the window again, urging me to just take it.

I reach for it quicker, but he swipes it back in again toward his chest! A challenge? Damn it, just give it to me!

I reach right in and snatch it, and Dale lets me take it, but not before grabbing my wrist and pulling my arm in like a rope.

I trip over my feet as I’m thrust forward. I end up falling half-way into the window, my face now right in front of his as I hover over his lap.

Dale doesn’t touch me. He lets my wrist go after playing his little game.

I look at him, with an inquisitive why on my face.

I’m not angry, just intrigued why he pulled me in.

“Hey, I like your cute short-shorts,” Dale compliments me, “Be safe out there, sweety,” he waits for me to get out of his face.

I pocket the card and hold onto the window frame, not wanting to get out of the car just yet.

“I’m okay, by the way, for real,” I tell him, straight into his eyes, “I’m fine,” I finally pull myself out of the car and stand up, waving at them as the car rolls forward.

Jose was driving.

I didn’t get time to look into the back.

I hold my hands behind my back as they drive off away from the curb, and for some reason I blush a bit as they go.

I had made a small concession.

…no wonder I fucked Dale, I mean fuck… he was smoking hot… like fucking wow… man…

I press my legs together.

I’m just a bit wet. But still.

I was in public. And that felt weird.

I spin, feeling pink, as I walk off in the other direction. I pull out the card and read it.

He’s left me a number and a little message.

You’re a bad girl.

Was it a coded message of some kind?

It doesn’t ring any bells.

I don’t really understand it.

But it leaves me with a hook, and the decision is whether I bite the bait or not.

I have logic. Why not use it?

Clearly in the past I fell for any bait thrown my way.

So, I have my very simple answer.

Avoid.

Don’t take up any offers from criminals.

Surprise, bitch.

I was brand new.

I was smarter now.

I just had to stay away.