Friends who drink together, stay together—mainly because neither can find their way home.
Big Boom
The next day, Rolo was fiddling with his prototype like it was the Holy Grail of magical mines, muttering to himself as I lounged nearby, watching his manic focus with mild amusement. Every so often, he glanced at me with an expectant look.
"What?" I finally asked, half-smirking.
"I need more of your blood," he said like it was the most natural request in the world.
"Ah, of course. The ultimate coworker perk: being a walking blood bank," I quipped.
"Do you want this thing to work or not?" he snapped, holding up his contraption. "I'm so close, Shay. Just a few drops, and I can finish the tuning."
I sighed dramatically, biting my finger. "You know, one of these days, I'm going to charge you. My blood isn't cheap, you know. I could auction it off to my adoring fans," I said, letting a few dark drops fall into the machine's intake valve. "Start a bidding war. Retire early."
Rolo didn't even look up from his work. "Yeah, yeah. Tell them I'm the one who turns it into explosions, and we'll split the profit."
The machine let out a faint hum, followed by a small hiss of steam. Rolo grinned like a maniac, tapping at the dials and flipping switches with the precision of someone who had too much caffeine and not enough common sense.
"Perfect," he said, more to himself than me. "Now I just need to test it."
I straightened up, brushing my hands together. "Guess it's time to call Mazen. This'll be fun."
I picked up the phone and tapped out Mazen's number, the screen flickering in my palm as I waited for the call to connect. It was late in the day, the orange glow of the setting sun filtering through the curtains. The silence stretched until a voice picked up, calm but edged with something else, something raw.
"Shay. What is it?"
The sound of a scuffle broke through the line—yells, the clang of metal on metal, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.
"Hey," I said, trying to keep my tone casual as if he weren't in the middle of something violent. "I'm going to need you to come by soon."
Mazen sighed. "I'll be there when I can."
A scream tore through the line, sharp and guttural. I knew that sound—something breaking, a life shattering.
"Wow. I hope I'm not interrupting anything too dramatic." I said.
There was a long pause, so long that the silence between us felt almost tangible, like an unseen barrier built of raw tension. Then, in a lower, more subdued voice, Mazen replied, "I'm in the middle of—"
Another shout, this one more desperate. The line crackled as Mazen's focus seemed to shift, and the soft sound of spells weaving together hummed on the other end. I imagined him standing there, eyes narrowed, his movements precise, the unyielding force of his magic making the air shiver around him.
But then came the silence again. It was the kind that cut through the chaos and made everything else seem unreal, a lull before the next wave.
"I'll be there soon," he said, his voice softer, the tone different now. It was still the confident voice of a warrior, but it carried a hint of something else—something unspoken.
I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "Just don't make me wait too long."
The tension in his voice broke, just for a moment. "I won't."
The line went dead, leaving me staring at my phone as the distant echoes of battle continued on the other end.
Half an hour later, Mazen arrived in his usual fashion—calm, collected, and carrying the perpetual aura of cold and skepticism like it was a second cloak. His robes were as immaculate as ever, not even a strand of hair out of place.
"You dragged me out here for what?" he asked, eyeing me and Rolo like we were about to sell him something shady.
"You'll see," I said, smirking.
I gave him my best charming smile. "We need a lift to one of your quieter properties. Preferably one you don't mind having a few craters in."
His frown deepened. "Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?"
"Because you probably will," I said cheerfully. "But hey, think of it as... stress testing your real estate."
Mazen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before grabbing both of us as his magic tore through the delicate fabric of space and time.
"Happy?" he asked.
"Ecstatic," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He seemed rather repulsed by this.
The warehouse was unassuming, just another one of Mazen's properties he used for who-knows-what. He was still grumbling under his breath as we set up near the edge of the property.
Rolo placed the prototype carefully on the ground, adjusting a few dials with a reverence usually reserved for sacred relics.
"You sure about this?" Mazen asked, watching him like a hawk.
Rolo didn't look up. "Relax. I've triple-checked everything. This baby's ready to go."
"That's what worries me," Mazen muttered.
We stepped back, and I gave Rolo the signal. "Let's see what it can do."
"Ruinare," he whispered.
The moment the spell settled, the mine hummed, its surface thrumming with energy as its core blazed to life. A low, resonant pulse radiated outwards, humming like a heartbeat, only it was one that sounded far too ominous to be natural. I felt the hair on my arms stand on end as the night seemed to hold its breath.
Then, with an ear-splitting crack, the mine erupted.
The explosion wasn't like anything I had witnessed before. It wasn't a simple fireball; it was a tempest in the form of raw, unrefined magic. A swirl of violet and blue, laced with flickering veins of golden light, burst from the core and twisted into a storm of jagged energy. The blast wave raced outward, smashing the trees into splinters and sending shards of ignited wood spiraling through the air like a deadly, blazing tornado. Dust and debris shot up like fireworks.
I froze, my breath caught in my throat as the magic swept over the area, sending a pulse of heat and force that was almost tangible. The ground splintered beneath our feet, and a hum of power so fierce I could feel it in my bones reverberated through the space.
Mazen's eyes widened, a flicker of alarm flashing across his face. In that split second, his expression hardened and his fingers wove a shield, a thin film of shimmering, silver-blue energy that surged outward in a ripple. Before the explosion could have reached us, the shield absorbed the brunt of the blast.
Well, the explosion was catastrophic. The mine unleashed a blast that tore through the air, flattening everything in its radius only leaving flames and a smoldering crater where the ground used to be.
When the dust settled, Mazen stood frozen, his expression somewhere between awe and horror.
Rolo, unmoving, stared at the devastation, his eyes wide and unblinking. "I told you it was ready," he said, his voice uncharacteristically thin, the satisfaction replaced by something that bordered on disbelief.
Mazen lowered the barrier, the glint of his power fading from the room, leaving only the heavy silence and the dissonance of creaking wood as the wreckage settled. His eyes locked onto Rolo, then flicked to me with an intensity that made the air crackle with unspoken questions. "What the hell were you trying to do here?"
I took a step forward, the smoke clearing just enough for me to see the ruin we'd created.
"That," I finally said, my voice low, "was obscene."
"Thank you," Rolo said with a proud grin, clearly taking it as a compliment.
Mazen turned to me, his face pale. "What... what kind of magic did you put in that thing? When that thing exploded it felt...like you."
I gave him a sly smile, wagging a finger. "Trade secret."
"Shay," Mazen said, his voice sharp. "That wasn't normal. I've seen destructive artifacts before, but this—this is something else."
"Let's just say," I said, stepping closer to the crater and folding my arms, "it has a personal touch."
Mazen's gaze flicked between me and the crater, his brow furrowing.
He grimaced, clearly not reassured. "Do you ever stop being reckless?"
"Not when it's this fun," I said with a smirk exploring the crater some more.
Rolo, meanwhile, was already scribbling down notes, completely unfazed by the conversation. Mazen looked like he wanted to argue more, but one glance at the smoking crater had him shaking his head in defeat.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he muttered.
I patted him on the shoulder. "Always."
"Well, mostly," Rolo chimed in without looking up.
"Don't ruin the moment, Rolo," I said, though I couldn't help but chuckle.
Mazen sighed deeply, muttering something about needing a drink, while Rolo continued scribbling away. The crater still smoked ominously in the background, a testament to our successful—if slightly terrifying—experiment.
"Let's go," he muttered, a touch of amusement sneaking into his voice. Before I could even nod, his fingers grabbed my hand, and with a soft hum of magic, we were gone.
The familiar warmth of my home replaced the smoke and chaos. Mazen stood there, eyes narrowing as he surveyed my living room, a careful blend of chaos and comfort. It was a stark contrast to the scene we'd just left behind.
"Stay," I said, the word almost slipping out before I realized it. "You were the one who said you needed a drink. It's the least I can do after turning a quarter of your property into a crater."
He glanced at me, eyebrow arched, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I am a busy person, you know that?"
"Yeah-yeah," I said, already calling out, "Berti! We need drinks. Now."
Berti popped into the room, already looking out of breath as if he'd sprinted from his room. His wide eyes darted nervously between Mazen, Rolo, and me. A slightly stained cocktail guide was clutched in one hand like a sacred tome, and his face was a mix of excitement and terror.
"Alright, um, so, what was it? A Cosmopolitan? A Daiquiri?" He glanced at the ingredients and then back at the two of us.
"Just make whatever," I said, leaning back on the couch, one eyebrow raised. "Rolo will have an alcohol-free version."
Rolo did not protest he just settled in the armchair still engrossed in his notepad. Mazen sighed but then sat down in the other armchair.
Berti dove into action, pouring vodka with the sort of flourish that would have made even a practiced bartender cringe. He fumbled with the lime juice, spilling half of it down his wrist. The ice cubes clattered like small bells as they fell into the glass, and the sound of the shaker being used—misused, really—had an almost musical chaos to it.
Berti muttered something, his voice cracking as he eyed the cocktail like it was going to bite him. He glanced at me, hoping for some kind of reassurance. I gave him a thumbs-up.
"Perfect. Just… don't spill it on the rug," I said with an exaggerated seriousness that made Mazen chuckle.
Berti's hands trembled as he strained to pour the drink into the glass, a stream of blue liquid dribbling down the sides and leaving trails like messy veins. When he finally set it down on the table, a look of triumph flashed across his face before it fell into sheer exhaustion. He wiped his brow, eyes squinting at the glass as if expecting it to explode any moment.
"Um...Here," Berti announced, offering the glass to Mazen, who took it with an amused expression.
Mazen took a sip and grimaced. "It's… potent. Like it's trying to convince my taste buds that they're in a duel."
"I see, uh," Berti said, looking at me like he needed a pat on the back. I gave him a thumbs-up, and he cracked a smile.
Berti shuffled over to me, his hands still trembling.
He set a glass in front of me with a flourish that nearly made it topple over. The drink was a questionable shade of pink, with bits of ice clinging to the sides like frozen confetti. I took a cautious sip, bracing for impact.
Surprisingly, it wasn't terrible. It was sweet, with a sharp kick at the end that made me cough once, but I was willing to give him credit for creativity.
"Not bad, Berti," I said, giving him an encouraging nod. "A little rough around the edges, but definitely memorable."
A grin broke across his face as he finally exhaled. "Thanks!"
He turned his attention to Rolo.
"Here," Berti said, presenting the glass to Rolo. "For you. It's got a little magic to it—just the kind to keep you awake if you're going to be researching all night."
Rolo's eyes lit up, but he tried to mask it right away. He merely took a sip and didn't comment on it.
As the scent of the drinks mingled with the smoke that still clung to my clothes, I couldn't help but feel a rare moment of peace.
"Alright," I said, leaning forward. "To unexpected victories and the friends who make them worthwhile."
Berti's eyes widened at the toast, and for a moment, he stood frozen. He fumbled for a second before quickly grabbing a glass of water off the counter and raising it awkwardly.
"To, uh... unexpected victories!" he said, his voice a little too high-pitched, his smile a bit too strained. He clinked his water glass against the others with a slight tremble, as if hoping his drink would somehow blend in with the alcohol-laden toasts around him.
I couldn't help but chuckle. His nervousness was endearing, in a way. Mazen's lips twitched into a faint smirk, his eyes flicking between Berti's overcompensated cheer and the drinks in front of us.
"Good job, Berti," Rolo said with a teasing grin. "Really fitting for the occasion."
I raised my glass to him. "Water's fine. It's the thought that counts."
Berti still seemed a bit nervous, but the tension in his shoulders eased. He seemed to relax for the first time since making those cocktails as if the pressure had been released.
I took a careful sip of the cocktail, the flavors mixing in a sharp tang. I rolled it over my tongue, letting the taste settle. I looked up at Berti.
"You should try using a touch of elderflower next time—it'll round it out."
Berti's eyes widened, and a hint of a grin peeked through. "Elderflower, got it.
I took another, slower sip, savoring the drink's bite as I leaned back into the sofa.
I looked up at Rolo and Mazen, who were both watching Berti with varying degrees of amusement. "You know," I said, turning my attention back to Berti, "maybe after the battle, we could finally open the pub."
Rolo raised an eyebrow, giving me an exaggerated, skeptical once-over. "Oh, right, because nothing says 'relaxing night out' like getting drunk at a place operated by a guy who once confused gin with pickle juice."
Mazen didn't even blink. It was like my pub was a distant dream he had no interest in entertaining. Typical.
Berti's hands trembled a little more, and he shot a nervous glance between me and Rolo, the color rising in his cheeks. "I-I mean, I can work even harder..."
"Relax," I said, waving a hand as I set the glass down. "We'll drink to the flaws and laugh at the disasters."
Rolo snorted, tilting his head back with a grin. "Well, I'll drink to that, at least. Especially if he decides to add some surprise ingredients again."
I couldn't help but laugh at the memory of Berti's last 'experiment' with a so-called 'lemon zinger' that ended up tasting more like a failed alchemical experiment.
The front door creaked open, and a wave of cold air swept in, followed by Alex's voice calling out, "I'm home!" His familiar tone had a hint of exhaustion mixed with relief.
"Hey, Alex," I called, a grin tugging at my lips. "Come in. You look like you've been running through a storm."
Alex entered, shedding his coat and running a hand through his messy hair. He glanced around at the group. "What's the occasion?"
I raised my glass, the cocktail's pink color catching the light. "A toast to the future," I said, winking at Rolo, who snickered. "And to Berti's bartending skills—"
"Which are questionable," Rolo interrupted.
Alex laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Oh, I've got to see this."
"Come sit," I called out, motioning him over. "You've had a rough day, I bet. Berti, make something special for Alex. He deserves it."
Berti's eyes went wide again, a nervous bead of sweat forming at his temple. "S-special?"
"Just make whatever doesn't taste like it should be used as a potion, Berti," I said with a grin. I could already feel the shift in the atmosphere, the tension from the day's planning melting into something more familiar.
Alex flopped down into the sofa next to me, propping his elbows on his knees. His gaze flicked to Berti as the young man hesitated, holding a shaker in one hand and an expression of utter terror on his face. "This is going to be interesting," Alex muttered, an amused smile playing on his lips.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Rolo added, smirking as he raised his own glass to me in a silent toast.
The next few moments were a mix of Berti's frantic searching for ingredients and Rolo's teasing remarks. When Berti finally settled on a concoction that looked more like a science experiment than a drink, he handed it to Alex with a nervous smile.
"Here, it's… um, an orange-spice fusion?" Berti said, eyes darting between Alex and me. "Not… not terrible, I hope."
Alex took the glass and raised an eyebrow. "This better not be the 'pickle juice surprise' version."
Berti's eyes widened again, but I cut in before he could respond. "Relax, Alex. It's all about the spirit. Cheers."
Alex clinked his glass against mine, a soft chuckle escaping him. Berti's worried expression transformed into a hesitant smile as he watched Alex take his first sip.
"Not bad, Berti. Not bad at all," Alex said, earning a sigh of relief from our bartender-in-training.
"See?" I said, leaning back with a smirk. "We're getting there. One drink at a time."