"Deadly hooker..."
ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕿𝖜𝖔
Az quietly walked down a dimly lit alleyway in Chicago, Illinois, wearing a white t-shirt and an unzipped black hoodie. He stared down at his black ripped jeans and sneakers while making sure to be aware of his surroundings.
The bright streetlights and tall buildings of Illinois cast a pale glow upon the alleyway, making it possible for the kaleidoscopic graffiti on the dark brick walls to be visible.
Az frowned at the sound of a police siren wailing in the distance. It was among the group of Az's least favorite sounds, not because he was sneaking around a dark alleyway like a rat in a house full of glue traps, but because a police siren meant someone needed critical help.
Sounds like someone's in trouble, Az thought. God, please protect them from any evil that may want to harass them.
He looked up from his jeans and sneakers at the distance ahead, expecting to see more miles of a dark alleyway covered in vibrant graffiti. Imagine the shock he had when he saw a nicely dressed man wearing a bloodied designer tuxedo!
The man slowly staggered toward Az as he held his chest. It was obvious that the man was using the last bit of strength he had to walk, and his speed could be compared to the likes of a snail. Finally, he awkwardly collapsed to the ground as Az dashed toward the man to check on his wellbeing.
He crouched down to the man's level and took his hood off.
"H-help me," the man muttered.
Az sighed. Normally, he would call an ambulance; however, just by looking at the man, Az knew that he would be the last thing that the man would set his scared eyes on. The three bullet wounds lodged in his chest made this conclusion evident. The look of terror on his face would be the last expression that the man would ever have.
"You okay?" Az asked calmly. He took another look at the man's devastated state and frowned even more. "Guess not. Cripes."
The man reached out a bloody hand to hand Az a small bottle containing a white, mysterious substance.
"Take this," he grunted, "and re-remember... this address—26 Silver L-Lake, Los Angeles."
"Why?" Az replied, taking the small bottle. The man's eyes started to close. "Hey! Wake up!"
Az groaned as he looked up from the dead body to see two men running towards the scene. When they saw Az, they abruptly stopped right in their tracks. The men had the word "GUILTY!" plastered all over their faces.
"What the hell is going on here?" Az said to the men as he stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He draped his hood back over his head and changed his concerned expression to a mean, demanding one.
"Boss!" one man blurted out.
"Why, boss?" the other asked.
"Answer me!" Az yelled.
His roar intimidated the men, making them jump back in fear. The look on their faces made it clear that they were afraid. They looked at each other and shook their heads unanimously, agreeing not to answer Az's question.
Ch-ch
The sound of a gun cocking came from Az's hoodie pocket, a threat warning the men to speak up or get shot down.
They both jumped back in fear for the second time.
"Wait!" one of the men exclaimed. "Don't shoot! It's Hades, he told us to!"
Az scowled. "Hades? Ugh. Sod off. I'll talk to him."
The men ran back to the way they came from as Az ran the opposite way.
/̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ꒷꒦ ☆ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕹𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝕸𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 ☆ ꒷꒦ /̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿
Az sighed as he walked toward a gorgeous open gate—an exquisite entrance to an even more gorgeous mansion—crafted with intricate wrought ironwork that intertwines in elegant patterns of swirling vines and delicate floral motifs.
Beyond the gate was a beautiful mansion, a masterpiece of architectural elegance, standing majestically amidst meticulously landscaped grounds. Its grand facade featured a combination of smooth stonework and intricate brick detailing as well as tall, arched windows with decorative shutters that allow natural light to flood the expansive interior. Surrounding the mansion was a sprawling garden with manicured lawns, vibrant flower beds, and serene water features. A perfectly paved driveway leads up to a grand entrance, and a charming gazebo or outdoor lounge area provides a picturesque spot for relaxation. The entire property exuded a lovely sense of opulence, reflecting the grandeur of the mansion itself.
A normal, sane person would've been amazed at their stunning surroundings; however, being a normal and sane person, Az didn't stop to look at the glamorous gazebo or even gaze at the grand garden. He was already used to this mansion, and he knew good and well that other than perfectly plush pillows and finely flavorful food, it was full of sins and lies.
Az walked up to the entrance and was about to step up the mansion's stairs when a security guard, Ryan, stopped him to chat. Ryan wore a tuxedo that looked like it was about to rip. He was a big fellow, and one gram of sugar away from bursting like a pimple ready to be popped. His cigar addiction wasn't helping his case either and was only making it worse.
"Azzy, boy. What are you doing up so early?" Ryan asked.
He blew a puff of cigar smoke into Az's face, making him cough.
"I came to talk to the old man," Az replied as he scratched his head. "Old people get up so early in the morning for some reason. Is he available?"
"Shut your grob if you want to say something idiotic. You better watch your mouth, boy. Call him Papa Grim, got it?"
"I came to see Hades, not you," Az replied as he shoved Ryan out of his way with his shoulder.
Ryan gave him an angry look but then he smiled. "When are you gonna make more of those videos, Azzy? I was a fan of yours, y'know. Even now you look so-"
"Shut up, fag."
Ryan's face turned red. "What?"
"I called you a fag," Az said as he turned around to face Ryan, "you white swine."
"You little brat! If only Papa didn't like you so much! I would've crushed your fucking face in!"
Az rolled his eyes as he walked inside the mansion, slamming the door behind him. He continued to walk through the beautiful interior of the mansion until he reached a large wooden double door. Az rapped on the door, making a little beat.
Drum drum drum-drum drum — drum-drum
"It's Az," he said before anyone could ask "who's there?"
"Oh! Azzy! Come in," a voice replied.