"No."
"Wa-what? Wait, hold on."
Zoe pushed the envelope back toward Amelia, "I'm not doing anything for Crater," offended that they would even ask.
"You were begging to do high-quality contracts for so long."
"Well, I'm fine now."
"Doing this mission will even give you another star. They made it a special benefit. At your age, being a triple-star would be very impressive. You know, normally, you'd have to do two B-rank missions. That's really tough to do; proven barely even ten percent of people have three stars on their badge. That's including all four colonies too!" One of her dogs barked as if to give emphasis to her claim.
"You de-patriate Ivy, and you want me to help you? I'm not taking bribes. You could make me a five-star. I'm not doing this." Her eyes fell to the ground, "Sorry," she mumbled and started shuffling away.
"Well, here's the thing about that," Amelia said. One of her Mastiffs bounded down the hallway, blocking Zoe's path. "We really aren't asking."
Zoe turned, seeing the corners of Amelia's mouth curl as if she was trying to hide a smirk.
Zoe paced in circles around her room. The letter lay open on her bed. 'They really want me to go across the country…by myself.' She thought back to several hours earlier.
Zoe stood awkwardly, avoiding Neph and Amelia's eyes as they stared at her. Neph was leaning forward at his desk, fingers entwined. Amelia stood to the side, both her dogs sleeping at her feet.
The cabin still had its usual smell. Neph had lit two large candles on the shelf behind his desk, giving off a scent of being near the water at a beach.
"As Amelia said earlier," Neph said, "I'm aware that we're the last people you want to help…but we're not asking you. We're telling you."
"I-I don't know…" Zoe mumbled; she glanced around the room nervously.
"Look," his voice softened considerably, "The person who contacted us is very trustworthy. We wouldn't have entertained this if we didn't think you could do it. Say what you want about yourself, but everyone here knows you're quite precocious." 'Even if your grades may suggest otherwise,' he considered adding but, thought better of it.
"Hey, also," Amelia said, "We're not saying you have to go immediately."
"How long do I have?"
"You got three days."
"In three days, you will board an aircraft and be flown to New York. New York City, to be exact. Before you go, we'll give you the address of where you'll meet him."
"That's not all, right?"
"No," Neph said, "But I'll let him explain to you what he wants you to do. Though I will say that there will be four other people you will be working with when you arrive."
"I can't pick someone to go with me?"
"Nope. The client seemed to have something particular in mind when he gave us this contract. Out of everyone available, our program chose you as the most suitable based on your stats. Usually we wouldn't do this, but he said this was urgent, and he's been a VIP client of ours for a while..." Neph trailed off. "If I recall correctly, the others are actually from some of the other colonies."
Zoe looked up, meeting his gaze, "Okay," she said, her words almost drowned by the slumbering dogs. "I'll do it." She didn't want to meet her eyes, but she could tell Amelia was smiling.
The sun was barely in the sky as Zoe stepped off the aircraft. The tall black buildings on the horizon and the pink sky behind them acting as a backdrop to the city.
Her hair whipped around wildly in the cold morning breeze. She retrieved a piece of paper from her pocket and read it over again. Squinting down the lengthy tarmac, she spotted the helicopter described in the note.
With a shaky step toward the awaiting vehicle, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself.
The pilot, engrossed in his phone, looked up once he noticed a girl approaching. She wore her usual oversized t-shirt, this time a several-year-old blue one that hung off her, almost reaching her knees. She wore dirty red light-up sneakers, which were untied.
She stopped in front of him. She stood for several seconds, not saying a word or making a sound.
"You're Zoe?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, let's go."
Within minutes, the helicopter's blades cut through the air as it flew toward its destination.
"So," the pilot yelled over the noise, "I've never been to Gia tower. What's it like in there?"
"I've never been there," Zoe yelled back. "I'm meeting someone there."
"Oh. I thought you were gonna be some billionaire's daughter. From what I heard, those are really the only people who can afford to live there."
"Cool."
Ten minutes later, the helicopter landed on the helipad attached to the tower.
She entered the elevator, but instead of numbered floors, each button had a name. Rich, Andrew, Nicholas, Jodie… "There," she pressed the name 'Damon.'
The elevator doors opened, and Zoe walked out into the living room of the multi-floor penthouse.
Immediately, she noticed six people already in the room. Two occupied the oversized white couch, while the remaining four were dispersed among chairs or leaning against tables.
The girl who lay on the sofa had been on her back, tapping away on her phone. At the sound of the elevator doors opening, she twisted, turning to see who had entered. Zoe winced when she saw her. The girl appeared a few years older than her; if Zoe were to guess, she'd say eighteen at the oldest. Black, but light-skinned, and her long, braided black hair featured streaks of red. Tattoos adorned her entire body, with the most striking being the ink beneath her right eye—a jagged 'KTA' as if scrawled by an unsteady hand. Above her left eyebrow, the word 'tentacion.'
The man beside her looked toward the girl, "Zheanni, go tell Damon."
"I'm kinda busy."
"Zheanni…" he said warningly.
"Okay," she sighed, getting up from the couch. She wore large black combat boots and baggy cargo pants with more zippers than Zoe could count. One pant leg was colored black, while the other was white.
Zoe watched as Zheanni walked to the steps, 'Why is she talking like that? It sounds like she's forcing her voice to be a lot deeper than it normally would be.'
Lazily, she strolled up the glass stairs at the side of the penthouse, knocking on the large wooden door on the second story. "Damon," she called, "The kids is here." After a few seconds, the door flung open, and a man in his late twenties wearing a luxurious white bathrobe with gold trim cruised to the landing, regarding everyone as he leaned over the second-floor railing.
A kid next to Zoe muttered, "I don't think he realized we can see that he isn't wearing underwear under that." He was slightly taller than her. He had messy blond hair and glasses.
Everyone watched silently as Damon and Zheanni walked down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, the man on the couch got to his feet, walking to Damon with an extended hand. He was tall and muscular, with white skin, and wore a pitch-black tuxedo.
Damon took his hand, shaking it. "Hey Paul, How're you doing, brother?" He talked with a thick New York accent.
"Eh, I'm doing alright. Those fifty M's are making today just peachy."
"You know those stocks I was telling you about the other day? Well, this morning, I put another fifty up."
Paul cackled and shook his head, "Bro, you are a fuckin' degenerate."
Damon smiled, "Well, don't blow too much of it on strippers…Hold on," he laughed, "Remember the South Islands a few years ago?" They both started cracking up, laughing. Once the laughter died down, Damon asked, "Did you ever find out what happened to that safe?"
"Yeah, it was some underling from one of the capos."
"What happened to the guy?"
"Oh," Paul chuckled, "he's gone now."
Zheanni walked past them and sat back on the sofa.
Damon clasped his hands, turning to everyone else, "Well, before we start. Let's all introduce ourselves!" He pointed to Zoe.
"Uh," Zoe's eyes flicked around the room, noticing everyone's stare before fixating on the floor. "I'm Zoe," she muttered, her hand half raised.
The kid with blonde hair and glasses stepped forward, "Hey everyone, I'm Asher."
A boy who looked a few years older than Zoe sat in a chair at a dining table. Before now, he'd been zoned out, staring blankly at the gigantic television screen nailed to the wall. It had been on, but the sound was muted, though once he saw Zheanni, his eyes lit up with recognition. He pried his eyes from her and he glanced up, "Oh, hey. Y'all can call me Mitani." He had black hair, with Kohl around his eyes. He wore what looked like a short gray chef's hat.
A boy who sat cross-legged on the dining table next to Mitani raised his hand. He wore a tight T-shirt with gym shorts. "I'm Kalimba! Damon graciously chose me for my teamwork abilities! I look forward to working with you all!"
The last one was a tall and thin boy. He wore what looked like a boiler suit, a dark navy blue with red streaks and hems. "Yahd. That's my name," he mumbled.
"Now that was great!" Damon smiled. "I'm not gonna waste any more time. In about an hour, we'll all fly over and land on my yacht. After that, we'll be off to Australia!"