Sockeye was having another slow night. The counter was vacant, and a single table was occupied by three men engaged in Indonesian conversation and a game of Remi. At the pool table, Alton, Orin, and Mirek played billiards with a lean negro Rhea did not recognize. She sat down at the bar, attention on the game.
After a while—no drink presented to her as Delton was still mad at her—she approached the table, watching Mirek as he bent down with his cue stick, aiming at a striped, green ball. It bounced off the side of the table and into the corner pocket.
"Damn it, Mirek," groaned the stranger. He looked at Rhea when he noticed her observing. "Are you the mechanic I heard about?"
"Most likely. Name's Rhea." She was a little concerned word of her was spreading through the city. She feared having too many eyes on her.
"Lucius."
"You from around here?" she asked.
"Candimas-1 district. I'm Downtown for a few fights."
"Fights?"
"I'm a boxer."
"Lucius here used to be the triad's best fighter," Orin said, slapping his back. "Well, before he got all old."
"I'm not that old," Lucius said with a nick in his voice.
Lucius dominated the ring in his youth, and testing his limits was something he was known for. In his early mindset, arrogance led him to believe he had no limits. As age began to work on his physique in a more deteriorating rather than enhancing way, those limitless actions led to injuries resulting in no full recovery. Though he never approached grievous fame considering the countless gifted boxers sweeping through the rings, he was viewed with admiration by anyone remembering his reckless spirit, still entering the ring on occasion. He fought for no one now. He had no representation or bets placed in his name. He refused to let die the rigorous sensations pulsing through him when he put on his gloves and faced off an opponent, some reflecting a past image of himself.
Mirek hit the eight ball into a pocket, and the game ended.
"Pay up," he grinned. The men groaned at the humility of losing so badly.
"Shit, I never would have bet so much if I had known you were so damn good," Lucius said as he threw bills into the center of the table. "You'd think one eye would fuck up your depth perception a little more."
Alton and Orin did the same as Lucius, and Mirek snatched the purposeless pile and shoved it into his pocket.
"Hey Rhea, you wanna make some money you should try beating this bastard at billiards. He's stolen nearly one million rupiahs from all of us," said Orin.
"I can't afford to lose any more money."
Mirek set his cue stick on the table and walked to the counter for a drink. Delton had caved in to his whining and tantrums to keep from getting more migraines. He wouldn't serve Rhea drinks, but Rusakov gave discreet orders to let her stay at Sockeye.
"Play a game with us," said Alton as he tossed Rhea the cue stick.
"I'm not placing any bets," she said as she caught the stick.
Rhea had never played billiards and could not get her head around how to use the cue to hit the balls at the proper angle. She was gripping the cue too tight and missing her shots. Everyone else thought it was amusing. After enough failed tries, Rhea was done using the cue stick. She threw it on the ground and used her hand to roll the ball across the table. Orin was going to protest, but when he saw she was just as bad with her hand, he let her play it her way.
Mirek sat at the bar with a glass in his hand, laughing at Rhea every time she made a poor shot. "This is almost too hard to watch," he snickered.
"Shut it," Rhea snapped. She rolled the ball again, hitting one of the balls into the pockets. "Ha!" No one told her she had hit the wrong ball into the pocket.
As Mirek got more intoxicated, he got more obnoxious, annoying everyone and chasing out a party of card players. Delton stopped refilling his glass, but that just made him even more annoying. Mirek was a man who could hold his bodyweight in liquor and would never pass out, so when on his drinking binges, Delton eventually had to refuse him to keep from losing money.
Mirek shouted at an inattentive Delton, his voice was slipping into Khmer as he began to lose control of his words: "Delton! You think you can ignore me like that? Chhkourt! I'll smash your face, I swear! Ah pleu…you better watch yourself—ot banh chea! You hear me? Min cheh!"
Rhea shouted at him before his voice became too maddening in her ears: "Just shut your goddamn hole Mirek!"
Mirek looked at her—or so she thought at first. His eye seemed to stare through her, where something else lurked. But what stood behind Rhea, though monstrous in form, was a figure only he could see. He grabbed his empty glass and threw it at her head. It missed her by centimeters—a shot he would have landed had he not been drunk. Rhea grabbed the cue ball and threw it back at him. It hit him on the side of the head, and his neck snapped to the side at the impact.
Rhea and everyone else stood in shock. She did not think she would hit him. He stared at her for a moment with an enraged look before standing. When he got to his feet, Rhea bolted for the door. He tried to come after her but drunkenly ran into the wall. Before he could get out of the bar, she ran around to the staircase up the stairs, and into her room. She knew she couldn't run from him, even if he was blind drunk. He would make his way up the stairs eventually, so she crawled up onto the roof, praying he would not think to check up there.
Rhea sat alone, watching the thriving scenery, guiding her fingers across her mala. She could hear Mirek screaming downstairs, murderous threats bouncing off the walls.
Rhea held her breath and tried not to let fear make her cry. She pulled out a cigarette pack and matches and filled her lungs with smoke. In the distance, she heard the pinching noise of gunshots resonating towards the marina. She was told pinpointing gets easier, but good ears are essential. The explosive shocks are almost always a clear indicator of a dangerous conflict. People like Orin and Alton knew the layout of Samadoya. For instance, the ringing of a shot goes off close enough to estimate the street containing its origin. However, not an expert on the Samadoya layout, Pedro had an ear for the type of arms and ammunition responsible for the noise.
There was crashing below that Rhea would later discover was Mirek angrily adding mess to her room, creating fist-sized holes in her walls, and breaking her radiator. He sat in her room while his rage boiled down. She could hear his enraged breathing below her.
Eventually, she heard him leave her room, slamming doors and marching downstairs until he exited the side of the building and walked down the street towards the bridge. Rhea watched him go, lying on her stomach to make herself less visible on the roof.
As he got to the bridge Mirek stopped and looked up. Rhea followed his motions and shock began to shake her body. Atop the bridge was the clear outline of a figure—a man raised with eight arms extending from his body. Blades glimmered in the moonlight. She could hear Mirek speaking but was too far to catch the words, only the sound. He spoke in conversation, the other voice in his head—but a voice that was not his own. Like the voice Rhea heard when she entered her shop to find one of them lurking amongst her tools. She jerked her hand to her jeans pockets and realized the stone was in her bedroom under her pillow. She watched Mirek closely, eager to make out what he was saying. But then he lowered his head and walked under the bridge. He moved into the shadows of the structure and the many-armed phantom vanished from atop the bridge. She looked back to the ground and did not see Mirek anymore, as though he had dissolved into the darkness.