Sykes paces towards the closet - which, truth be told, was something I had not noticed before. He opens it, and I lean forward, trying to get a look at what is inside. But it looks totally empty to me. So why did he open it?
And it's like he knows exactly what I'm thinking - no, no, he does know exactly what I'm thinking. He's the telepath, here. And a skilled one at that. But he turns to me, he looks at me.
"There's nothing in here, you're right. But that doesn't mean there won't be." He explains, before walking inside. "You see, magic has practical uses too."
And still I'm confused. What does he mean, practical use? I haven't a clue honestly. Well, I suppose I'll find out soon - he closes the door, and after a while, he walks straight back out, a package in hand.
"Clothes, for a disguise of sorts. Do you really want to turn up looking like you do now? Your outfits-- No, Joanna, just your outfit is too formal."
Formal? I'm not wearing anything that formal, I'm sure. I never really looked at what outfit I'd picked out this morning, but looking at myself now, I can see I'm wearing a white button-up shirt, a pleated skirt, gray in colour, that stops just short of the knees, and black tights-- Perhaps this is a little formal.
"As for you, Anchor, that outfit is too practical. Were they to see you in that, would they think you were ready to fight?" Sykes questions, and I can't help but nod. It's true, whatever Anchor is wearing definitely looks like a battle outfit. Well, it seems we're both failing here.
"Fighting the dealers isn't our goal here, so you should change. Here, take these." Sykes gives some of the clothes he's carrying to Anchor, and the rest to me. "Go, get changed. You can leave your clothes here, pick them up later. One of you can use the next room, and I'll leave."
And with that, he's gone. Anchor leaves - so I guess he's using the next room. Well, as soon as that door is closed, I start to strip, before changing into the clothes supplied; a plain black zip-up hoodie, perhaps a size too big (not that it matters), and a pair of navy jeans, which themselves are more or less a nice fit. Overall, these clothes are quite comfortable, but they aren't something I would exactly choose myself. Well, all things considered, they look rather casual and I would guess a lot of people on the street would wear something like this. I guess Sykes has a point, telling me that I was dressed up too formally.
I hear a voice call from downstairs - again, Sykes is the one to speak. He's asking if we're ready, to which I hear Anchor call back that he needs a minute. Oh well, I might as well go and talk to him. Down the stairs I go, and back into the living room.
"So you're the new Society kid, huh?" He questions, his face not showing any specific expression. I nod, and stretch a hand out to him. I expect him to shake it, but instead he high-fives me. Well, I'm not all that surprised, I guess.
"You have your work cut out for you, kid. Anchor and Karen joined a few years ago, and I'm sure they've seen more than enough of the supernatural for a few lifetimes." He jokes, his lips now curling upwards at the ends.
"Can you tell me how Anchor and Karen joined?" I ask, curious about their origins.
"Sure. They joined a year after Lucas; Anchor was twenty-two, out of work, struggling to find a job. Alfred noticed his potential, and drafted him in alongside Karen, who was just like you; fresh out of college at the time. They were both drafted in with the idea of gathering information - Karen is a genius with technology, and Anchor was a genius at intimidation. Karen never developed any skills but still found herself embroiled with the supernatural, with this world. She's definitely something special."
Well. That wasn't nearly as exciting as I would have hoped. Damn.
In the time it has taken for Sykes to tell me about how he was drafted into the group, Anchor has returned; and he's impatient, wanting to set off as soon as we can. Sykes obliges, standing up from his seat - and I follow, rising from mine too. As a group, we move towards the door, and Sykes tells his wife he is leaving. Then he opens the door, and he lets us out, following close behind. Anchor is the first to speak up after him.
"Are we taking your car, or are we walking?" He asks, and Sykes shrugs.
"We should walk. It isn't too far, and going in a car like mine probably wouldn't look too good." He replies, and he sets off in whatever direction he's setting off towards. East, north, whatever, I can't tell. Honestly, my only worry right now is how out of place I look next to two fully-grown men. Also how... unexciting this mission has been, so far. Maybe I'm just asking a lot, though.
I follow Sykes, noticing that Anchor has also set off. This isn't a good start, either; I'm already a little behind and making a fool of myself. I should try to perhaps pay more attention to my surroundings, I guess. Well, I might as well take this time to actually see where I am, too, anyway! A street, of course, and it doesn’t look too unnatural. Unnatural? Maybe supernatural is the right word. Well, this whole world itself is confusing. Normal. The street looks normal. That's all I can say about it, for now. There are houses, they're clean, nothing is trying to attack me. It's perfectly normal!
Maybe I'm worried too much. But what am I worried for? I always wished for a change from the normal, from my life. I've finally got it - so why am I always on edge, all of the time? Is there really something to be worried about? Is it because I'm working with some kind of police force? Didn't I always want to go into law?
No, no, I'm sure it's because what we're doing now could potentially border on illegal. And that's something I'm going to need to learn to handle if I am to continue working with these people. Their methods aren't always legal; in fact, some of them may fall way outside the line of the law. In the end, it's a test of morals. And my morals... they tell me what I'm doing is wrong, but I'm betraying them and going on anyway.
That's enough monologuing, though. I didn't even pay attention to my surroundings again - and now we're at our destination, according to Sykes. It's a typical dealing spot, I guess. A dark alley in the middle of the city. It doesn't look too shabby, but it certainly isn't a nice place to be. My chest feels a little heavy, and I'm sure I'm slightly scared.
But sure enough, two men in similar outfits to ours are approaching from the other end of the alley, bag in hand. Do we need to pay with money? I don't see any money on Sykes, or on Anchor. And I certainly didn't bring any.
"Hey, you've brought it all, right? The agreed amount?"
That's Sykes' voice. I'll let him do the talking.
"Of course we did, what kind of sham did you take us for?"
The taller of the two men. Well, judging from his voice, calling him a man may not be so apt. He sounds to be around my age -- that is, a teenager.
"Good, then what's the price?"
Sykes, again.
"You pay in blood. Two drops."
The smaller male. He sounds a little younger. A kid? No, that's impossible.
"Six in total, it seems. Hey, Lucy, get over here."
Who's Lucy? I don't know a Lucy-- oh. I'm Lucy, right. I should listen more. We're not using our real names, are we? I walk over to where Sykes and Anchor are - and I wonder if I should have followed. Sykes holds out his arm, and the taller of the two males pulls a knife out, dragging across Sykes' wrist. The smaller boy has a small vial - no, it's better to say he has a collection of small vials, some full, some not.
He holds it to the wound, fresh, open. Sykes presses it against it, and he allows two drops of blood to trickle in. Is this how they pay? In blood, like that?
I'm not going to like this.
The smaller boy closes the top of the vial, and pulls out another one, before the process is repeated with Anchor.
Which now only leaves me. I have to give blood to them. To someone I don't know. To buy drugs.
I don't want to. But my arm moves of its own accord - held out, wrist upwards. And I can feel the knife dragging across it, cutting, severing flesh from flesh. It stings, it burns. And my blood trickles out. Slowly, but it feels like the worst thing in the world.
It hurts, and I don't want to do it. My teeth are gritted and it's taking all my willpower not to instinctively pull away. I can't do this.
But Sykes puts his hand on my shoulder - perhaps trying to reassure me. I'm sure I'm shaking.
It's soon over.
"So, give us the stuff. Three bags. That's what we agreed on."
#project hail mary
#lana del rey
#photography
#azzi fudd
#heated rivalry
