It was quiet, too quiet. Usually, the streets would've been abuzz with activity even at this hour of the morning, but they were dead silent. The roads were largely empty, and the sidewalks were devoid of the usual riffraff. Junkies, prostitutes, gang members, criminals of all shapes and sizes, this was their time to shine, but they were nowhere to be found.
Palisade frowned under his mask as he stood on the edge of a tall building. He'd spent hours patrolling this neighborhood, and nothing noteworthy had happened. He'd seen a few teens getting high at a local park and a homeless couple having sex in an alley, but those problems didn't concern him. He didn't write citations or issue tickets; that was a job for the boys in blue.
Most Heroes dreamed of calm, relaxing nights like this, but Palisade detested them. He wasn't in the Hero business for peace and tranquility; he loved violence. Assaulting criminals gave him an intense adrenaline rush, and it was therapeutic. Talking to some shrink in a cushy chair wasn't his style. Making crooks bleed was his personal nirvana.
Palisade reached into his utility belt and pulled out his cell phone. It was half past five. He debated calling it a night. Most crime in Chicago took place after dark, and the sun was about to rise in an hour or so, but he didn't want to go home just yet. He opened the HeroPoint app and searched for activities in this part of town. He was on the north side, one of the safer parts of the city, and unfortunately, there wasn't a lot going on.
The east side, the west side, and the south side had plenty of crime, though. There were loads of shootings, and a couple of Villains were on the loose, but other Heroes were already on the scene. Aiding them was a possibility, but Palisade hated team-ups, and his lack of super speed or flight was a drawback. By the time he arrived where the action was at, it would be far too late.
Palisade sighed and locked his phone. This was a waste of time. He decided to head home. He inhaled, exhaled, and leaped off the building. The wind breezed through his brown hair as he plummeted. He loved that feeling and the sensation of free-falling. Most people would've been scared to death, literally, but Palisade didn't flinch as he plunged towards the ground. He was mere inches from colliding with the Earth when he suddenly somersaulted and landed on his feet.
The pavement cracked beneath his black, heavy boots as he crouched and rose. He'd landed on a sidewalk that would now need repair. The city could bill him for the repairs as they'd so often done in the past, but it wouldn't matter; he never paid. He dusted himself off, started walking, and decided to cross the street.
There was a donut shop a few blocks over, and they had the best French Crullers in town. The owners were a friendly elderly Asian couple who regularly gave free food to Heroes, and Palisade couldn't turn down a good deal. The giveaways were promotional material for their business, and they provided an extra layer of security. No criminals would dare to mess with a shop that Heroes frequented.
Palisade stepped onto the crosswalk. There wasn't a soul nearby, and the only cars on the road were the parked ones. He was halfway across the street when the obnoxious revving of an engine drew his attention. The noise was distant at first, but suddenly grew louder and louder, and in the blink of an eye, a car was in front of Palisade. It was a bright red Dodge Challenger SRT with blinding headlights.
The car nearly mauled Palisade, but he vaulted into the air in the nick of time. Time seemed to slow as he floated in the air, eyeing the two masked occupants in the vehicle. Neither one of them spared Palisade a glance, and seconds later, they took off, speeding down the road, without a care in the world. They didn't check on the pedestrian they'd nearly crushed or slow down even a little bit. Palisade landed on the ground hard but unscathed. He smiled under his mask and turned in the direction of his would-be attackers; this night wasn't such a drag after all.
In the car, Tayvon yelled at Farelle, scolding him for his reckless driving.
"You almost hit that person back there!"
"And? I don't give a fuck. We got places to be." Farelle said dismissively. He was going well over 100 miles per hour. "All that backseat driving, you sound like my mama. I know my shit. Let me do my thang."
Tayvon had a rebuttal, but he decided to keep quiet instead. He buckled his seat belt tighter and mumbled a prayer, doubting whether God would actually listen. The surroundings around the car began to blur as Farelle zoomed through the streets. The roads were largely empty, but that could change in an instant, like it had a few moments ago. Tayvon didn't want to participate in a hit-and-run accident, but Farelle didn't seem to care. He drove negligently, ignoring every possible traffic law.
They were in a rush, but reaching their destination in one piece was the most important thing. If the police spotted their car, it would create a whole new set of problems. The Dodge Challenger was stolen and had likely been reported as such weeks ago when Tayvon had carjacked its owner. There were at least five guns, all unregistered, in the car, plus a bunch of weed. It was the perfect concoction for a lengthy prison sentence.
Farelle would never admit it, but he was a little scared. His demeanor was confident and self-assured, but this was a situation far beyond his expertise. He didn't mind going to prison; he'd been to the big house before and had earned his stripes, but even behind those walls, he wouldn't be safe if he failed to follow orders. His entire family's life was in jeopardy, and the people responsible for the threats had the means to fulfill their promises.
The GPS on Tayvon's phone interrupted the silence. "Turn left," it said as the car entered a warehouse district. The buildings were all fairly new, and some of them weren't even available for rent yet. The GPS directed the car down a long, dimly lit road that seemed to stretch for eons. By the time the car finally reached its destination, Tayvon and Farelle were on edge.
Neither cousin wanted to exit the car, but they had no choice. They hesitantly stepped outside, scanning the perimeter as they walked to the car's trunk. Tayvon had two large visible guns stuffed in his pants, and he was prepared to use them at any given moment. He stood by, vigilantly watching the trunk while Tayvon opened it. All the weed they'd stolen was there in the same trash bags they'd taken it in.
Tayvon hoped that this would be enough to satiate whoever had called and threatened him. Whether Asia lived or died wasn't his concern at all. She'd participated in this crime, fully aware of the potential consequences. Admittedly, this wasn't a consequence that either of them could have imagined, but in the streets, you had to expect the unexpected.
"This is the address they gave you, right? Where the fuck they at?" Farelle asked agitatedly.
"I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine," Tavyon replied as he adjusted his ski mask. It felt pointless wearing one when his identity was already known, but he wore it, nonetheless. His face was hot and sweaty as he eyed the building in front of him. It was a large nondescript warehouse with a peculiar shape. It was rectangular but somehow curved around the edges.
Tayvon and Farelle glanced at each other and decided to approach the building. Their car was alone in a vast, empty parking lot. The silence was haunting as they walked towards what seemed to be the warehouse entrance. The lighting in the parking lot was inconsistent, which made things even more eerie. Some of the light poles worked, but several didn't, and the functioning ones flickered constantly.
"We supposed to ring the doorbell or something? Where these motherfuckers at?" Farelle asked as he and Tayvon stood at the foot of a short flight of steps. The steps led to a tiny, inaccessible door.
Tayvon dropped the two trash bags of weed on the ground. Lugging them around for that long walk had his shoulders aching. He rotated them and pulled out his phone. He was hesitant to call Asia's number, but fortunately didn't have to. The door opened, and two black balaclava-clad men motioned for Tayvon and Farelle to follow them.
Both cousins did as commanded and walked up the steps, through the door, and into the unknown. The inside of the warehouse was even larger than it appeared from the outside. The walls were so far apart that it seemed like it would take days to get from one end to the other. The smell of fresh paint was thick in the air, and everywhere you turned, there was a forklift nearby. Tayvon counted at least ten as the masked men guided them through the warehouse.
The warehouse was empty, though, which raised several questions about all the forklifts. What were they for? Where were the drivers? How much did they cost? Each forklift looked brand new, and even if you purchased them in bulk, it was still incredibly costly. Farelle, however, didn't concern himself with any of that; his thoughts were elsewhere.
He scanned the warehouse looking for possible exits. If things went wrong, which was almost guaranteed at this point, Farelle and Tayvon would need an escape route. They'd walked a good distance thus far, and Farelle had only spotted one door, which was the one he'd walked through, but there had to be others. Chicago building codes wouldn't allow for only one exit.
The masked men leading Farelle and Tayvon were having a spirited conversation. They spoke loudly and aggressively in Spanish. Farelle wasn't fluent in that language but understood enough to grasp the general gist of what they were saying. They were worried about something, or rather someone, and they were upset about being left behind. Whatever that meant didn't bode well for Farelle or his cousin.
Every so often, the men glanced over their shoulders, giving Farelle and Tayvon a stank eye. The idea of shooting them crossed Farelle's mind at least a handful of times, but that would just be plain stupid. As much as he hated it, Farelle would just have to endure their disrespect for now. After a few turns down a long corridor, the men led Farelle and Tayvon to an opaque office. The windows surrounding it were pitch black from the outside.
The two men stopped in front of the door and ordered the cousins to put their hands over their heads. Farelle and Tayvon didn't make a fuss and obeyed. They were quickly searched and patted down. Two of Farelle's guns were confiscated, but the pistol underneath one of his soles wasn't seized. Tayvon had both of his guns snatched from his back pockets.
The two men warned Tayvon and Farelle not to do anything stupid and opened the door for them. Neither cousin was prepared for what they saw once they entered the room. Asia was a bloody and unresponsive mess at the center of the floor. Two different masked thugs were probing her body, checking for signs of life. They didn't pay any attention to Tayvon and Farelle as they walked inside.
"Y'all not so tough now, huh?"
Farelle's eyes darted to the voice's owner. It was Anthony, Tee, or whatever the fuck his name was. He was seated in a chair near Asia with a smug look on his face. He still had the bruises Tayvon had given him, but he looked much better than he had just a few hours ago.
"I tried to warn you. You stupid motherfuckers should've listened!" Anthony yelled. He was practically foaming at the mouth. Farelle gave him the finger.
"I was looking forward to hunting you down and killing you, but you brought back our shit. You're smarter than you look." Margarito said as he walked up and snatched the garbage bags out of Tayvon's hands. He peeped inside and beckoned for Anthony to come over. "This is what they took from you, right?"
Anthony looked in the bags and rummaged through them for a minute or so before replying. "Yeah, this is everything."
"Don't let it happen again," Margarito jabbed Anthony's chest with his finger. "I won't be as gracious as Idalia the next time you fuck up. You got lucky today, remember that."
Anthony gulped and nodded. "I-I-I won't. This won't ever happen again," he promised.
"Good." Margarito dismissed Anthony, and he hurriedly returned to his seat.
"So, what about us? What now?" Tayvon asked. They'd fulfilled the end of their bargain. Would they be free to go?
"We had planned to fuck you over, but a deal is a deal," Margarito smiled devilishly. It was unsettling. "You're free to go and take the bitch with you." His men dragged Asia's body across the floor and dropped her in front of Tayvon. It was unclear if she was alive or dead.
"For real? That's it? We're good?" Tayvon asked. Farelle whispered for him to shut up, but Tayvon needed clarity. Things seemed too good to be true, and the person in front of him wasn't the voice he'd heard over the phone.
"Yes, now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind!" Margarito barked.
Farelle didn't need to hear anything else. He scooped Asia into his arms and slung her over his shoulders. She was a lot heavier than she looked; she might've actually been dead, but that didn't matter right now. Farelle walked towards the door, grumbling as her blood dripped on his clothes. The same men who'd ushered him into the room, ushered him out of it. On his way out, Farelle felt Asia's phone vibrate in her pocket, followed by a very loud alarm.
Tayvon and Farelle stepped into a hallway, and the alarm blared louder and louder. It reached decibels that were impossible to ignore. Farelle eventually had to place Asia on the ground and search her pockets. He found her phone but couldn't turn off the alarm, and Tayvon was just as clueless as he was. Fed up, Tayvon just stomped on the phone, finally silencing it.
Without the obnoxious noise, the cousins were able to hear frantic shouting from the office behind them.
"We need to go now! Vámonos! Vámonos!"
Everyone inside the office rushed outside and started running. They sped by the cousins and bolted in different directions. Anthony was the last to leave the room, and he was the slowest. His injuries were still affecting him. Farelle and Tayvon watched him sluggishly jog past them and turned to each other, concerned.
"I don't know what the fuck is going on, but we need to dip." Farelle urged. He didn't bother picking Asia back up; he left her on the floor.
"There's gotta be another exit somewhere round here!" Tayvon said as he and his cousin dashed up the hallway. There were a few doors on each side, but none of them seemed to lead outside. They reached the end of the hallway and were faced with the decision to turn right or left. They were debating what to do when their surroundings were suddenly filled with smoke. In seconds, everything became hazy, and neither cousin could see the other. They stumbled through the thick white smoke and heard a stern, gravelly voice announce itself from a distance.
"If anyone has a weapon, drop it, before I drop you."