"Ants, stop." the Queen commanded. "I know this one."
"Hermila, how are we?" Elmaf said she was trying to avoid eye contact with her.
"You've hosted a brilliant party, Elmaf," Hermila responded, "and the orderves are brilliant."
Elmaf squirmed, and he shook off the Queen's intimidation.
"These boys want to talk to you, they have a proposition for you."
"We want to take hold of an Alxit just to change a few things on this planet, which would help you." Phineas smiled.
The Queen looked at Elmaf with disbelief, although he shrugged in support of the boys.
"Why would I give you an Alxit? This country is running perfectly well." The Queen responded
"Look, we're travellers; we go to different planets and countries, While we are travelling, we could collect important and better resources to help run your planet," Hatred explained.
The Queen, Hermila, thought over their proposal. The pros barely outweighed the cons. Curious about how things would play out, she granted their request. Although they would have to get rid of the current rulers,.
"Travel 5000 miles east and you will reach the place, it won't be easy overthrowing them." The Queen explained.
She said she bid them farewell and pulled Elmaf to the side to talk before they left.
"Now where you're going is called Zelsior, they say this Alxit has a conscious and some of its citizens are incredibly strong," Elmaf said,
"Alright boys, I've got a party to attend but you sort that shit out."
There were no available Ghost Trains for Zelsior, so they walked. Doubt was still lingering from his conversation with Karma, the journey seemed like it was years when it was a couple of minutes.
"You're normally inquisitive, anything I should know about?" Hatred asked.
Phineas shook his head and assured Hatred of his commitment to the mission.
"I'm just tired," Phineas responded.
In front of them stood rows of houses upon houses, with two hospitals bordering opposing sides of the citadel. It was a grass-themed city, the bright sun provided a lighter shade of green for the roads, and the semi-crowded town centre just past the town centre was a mansion better than anything Phineas had seen. The fine quality of the grass got better and better towards its gates.
"Don't move." Hatred stuttered.
Only a few minutes later, bags were thrust upon them, almost to the point of suffocation. The boys were chucked onto the living room floor of the palace.
"Why are we here?" Phineas said.
The hooded figures laughed; their tracksuits spoke mountains of their character.
"You want to get rid of us and control our city; why the fuck would we let you live?" He said, "I'm Job."
They pulled out guns and had them aimed at Phineas and Hatred.
"Every man should have a smoke before their final breath, don't you?" Job sighed.
He threw a cigarette at the two.
"Now." Hatred whispered.
In a flash of coordinated movement, Hatred launched himself at Phineas. A desperate shove sent Phineas flying across the room just as a deafening gunshot exploded. The bullet whizzed past where Phineas' head had been a moment before, leaving a scorching trail in its wake. Hatred, already halfway across the room, met the attacker head-on.
Phineas narrowed his eyes, flicking a glance at Hatred, whose stance mirrored his own—alert, muscles coiled. Job's gaze flicked between them, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.
Phineas didn't hesitate. A whirlwind of crimson fury, Hatred met Job's attacks head-on. Fists met with sickening thuds, the air crackling with raw energy. Job's associates, surprised by the sudden movement, lunged at Hatred. He rolled across the floor, narrowly avoiding a swinging fist, and came up behind one of the attackers. A well-placed elbow connected with the man's jaw, sending him sprawling. The other attacker, a hulking brute, swung a haymaker at Hatred. He dove, the wind whipping past his ear, and retaliated with a swift kick to the attacker's knee. The brute buckled, momentarily stunned, giving Hatred precious seconds to join the fray beside Phineas. But he didn't.
"You want to change the world, you've got to do some of it on your own." Hatred said.
Fueled by Hatred's words, the attacks became more choreographed; and the kicks became more vicious. Every punch seemed to be met with a block, although a few kicks were exchanged, with Job slightly edging the fight.
But with each exchange, Phineas started to learn Job's rhythm. He saw the subtle shift in weight before a right cross, the almost imperceptible flinch before a leg sweep. This wasn't just a brawl anymore; it was a deadly dance. Phineas started weaving around Job's attacks, using the momentum to launch his own counters. Kicks, once telegraphed and easily blocked, became a series of lightning-fast strikes aimed at Job's exposed flanks. It was a brutal ballet, each movement a calculated response, a deadly game of anticipation and reaction. Still, Job, with years of experience etched in his muscle memory, remained slightly ahead. He parried most of Phineas' attacks, and the few kicks that landed seemed to have less impact. Despite the growing pain on his side, Phineas pressed on, fueled by a desperate hope and Hatred's unwavering defence.
"Zing-Zang: Apocalypse Hold," Job said.
Objects from the palace started racing towards the centre of Phineas' forehead. This gravity control had also dragged Job's partners, who were already bruised from their scuffle with Hatred, with their blades thirsting for murder.