The engine of the black van purred quietly as Zughaib navigated through the empty streets, the soft hum of the motor the only sound cutting through the late-night silence. The rain had picked up again, falling in heavy sheets and washing over the city like a constant reminder of its dreariness. He drove with practiced ease, his hands relaxed on the wheel but his mind constantly ticking, running through the events of the night.
The weight of what had just happened still hung over him like a storm cloud. The Cleaner's errand, the brutal confrontation with the Anarchy crooks—it all felt like another step down a path he had no intention of staying on for long. But the money had been good, and right now, that was all that mattered.
He pulled the van under a massive storm drain, parking it in a dark, secluded spot where it wouldn't be noticed. The drain connected the chaotic streets of Asiaville to the sprawling industry sector and downtown areas, a perfect hideaway for now. Satisfied that the van would remain untouched, he locked the doors and began the long walk back to Zaid's complex.
The rain soaked through his black bomber jacket as he walked, droplets clinging to his hair and dripping down his face. Asiaville was still buzzing, despite the rain—street vendors still peddling their goods, patrons ducking in and out of neon-lit bars, and groups of people huddled under awnings, smoking and laughing as if the world wasn't as grim as it felt.
As Zughaib reached the entrance to Zaid's building, the doorman sat slumped in his chair, eyes glazed over and a blunt dangling from his lips. He barely noticed Zughaib as he passed, murmuring something incoherent in a haze of smoke. Zughaib's eyes flicked to the man briefly, but he kept walking, choosing the stairs over the elevator, which always seemed slower when he needed it to be fast.
The stairwell smelled faintly of mildew, the old complex crumbling around its edges. Zughaib's footsteps echoed in the narrow space as he climbed, his mind wandering. His body was still wired, adrenaline coursing through his veins from the fight earlier. The images played back in his mind—the knife slicing through flesh, the sound of bones breaking under his fists. He had become so accustomed to violence, so numb to it, that sometimes it felt like part of him was lost forever.
When he reached his floor, his senses sharpened. The hallway was empty, the dim light flickering above him. As he approached Zaid's apartment, he noticed something that put him on edge. The door was unlocked.
Zughaib's muscles tensed, and he slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the switchblade he always kept close. He nudged the door open with his foot, stepping inside silently, his eyes scanning the room.
"Hey!" Zaid's voice greeted him from the back, catching him off guard. Zaid stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his bulby waist, his wet hair sticking to his forehead. He smiled, completely unaware of Zughaib's cautious entrance. "You're back earlier than I thought."
Zughaib's tension eased as he closed the door behind him. He had been ready for a fight, but seeing Zaid, still wrapped up in the mundanity of his life, brought a strange sense of calm. Zaid continued to chatter as he dried his hair with a towel, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Zughaib had just returned from a day soaked in blood.
"Bro what's that stain on your pants?" Zaid peaked at Zughaib's beige camo pants; it had slight pale reddish colored streaks on it. Zughaib shrugged off while Zaid was too impatient to ask for...
"Man, you wouldn't believe what happened at work today," Zaid said, dropping onto the couch with a laugh. "One of the guys, Luis, went completely limp after lunch. Turns out, someone laced his sandwich with... something. Probably an edible or some shit. He was out cold for hours."
Zughaib, now seated at the dining table, barely reacted. He was busy counting the cash he'd earned from the night's work, laying the crisp bills in neat stacks beneath the table. Zaid's voice faded into the background as Zughaib focused, each note a reminder of the dark choices that came with survival.
Zaid, still talking, glanced over at him. "You even listening, bro? I swear, you're always in your own head. But, hey," he said, perking up, "since it's the weekend, I was thinking we could go check out that new mall that just opened up. It's been the talk of the town, opened just last week. I know malls aren't exactly your scene, but... come on. I figure we could hang out like we used to."
Zughaib shrugged and Zaid grinned. "Great! We'll get out of here in a few. I'll get dressed."
Zaid did mention to get himself ready, but he usually gets a little gluttony; forcing to slump to the kitchen counters. Soon he notice something missing in his counter, "Dammit?! Where's my mini knife." Zaid asked 'to himself' until he turned to Zughaib, "Yo bro you saw my knife... like it's black vinyl handle and short tip which is really sharp... I got that from the Vanities...". Zughaib turned and shrugged, knowing fully where the knife had been used before...
"Ahh screw... come on dude, dress up... can't deal with night time mall crowds... you can wear one of my old tracksuits, I guess it'll fit." Zaid grunted as he went to take his outdoor clothes, Zughaib sighed and hid his cash money into his bomber jacket while changing his pants.
---
An hour later, the two brothers mount on and were driving through the busy Friday night streets in Zaid's old two-door SUV. The rain had lessened but left the roads slick and gleaming under the city's lights. Zaid hummed along to the radio as they passed through the nighttime crowd, weaving through the traffic with a relaxed ease that Zughaib envied.
Zughaib, leaning against the passenger door, stared out the window, his mind distant again. The errand from earlier lingered at the back of his thoughts like an itch he couldn't scratch. He knew the Cleaner wasn't done with him, and that meant more bloodshed was on the horizon.
Eventually, they pulled into the parking lot of the mall, masses of parked cars on a typical Friday night. Zaid found an empty spot near the entrance and was about to park when a rumbling sound caught their attention. A large truck screeched to a halt nearby, and its driver—a hulking man with a thick neck and a crew cut—hopped out, glaring at them.
"Hey! That was my spot!" the man bellowed, his voice booming across the lot.
Zaid, ever the peacekeeper, rolled down his window and raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Sorry, man, didn't see you coming. We'll find another spot."
The man, clearly not satisfied with the apology, stomped over to the SUV, his fists clenched. "No, that was my spot, and you're gonna move."
Zaid smiled awkwardly, trying to defuse the situation. "Look, it's not a big deal, we'll just—"
Before Zaid could finish, Zughaib moved. Without a word, he slipped out of the SUV and walked around to where the hulking man stood. The man turned to face him, but before he could react, Zughaib struck. A quick, brutal punch to the side of the man's head, disorienting him. The hunk stumbled, and before he could gather himself, Zughaib grabbed him by the back of his jacket, throwing him hard against his own truck.
The man grunted in pain, his body slamming into the metal with a dull thud. He wheezed, his face twisted in anger, but something in Zughaib's eyes made him think twice about pushing further.
Zaid watched from the SUV, wide-eyed and nervous. "Zughaib, man, it's fine, we don't need—"
The hulk of a man staggered back to his feet, glaring at Zughaib with barely contained rage, but he didn't make a move to retaliate. He huffed angrily, rubbing the side of his head before spitting at the ground. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood," he growled, his voice lower now.
Zughaib's eyes never left the man, but he took a step back, giving him room to retreat. The hulk, clearly realizing that this wasn't a fight he was going to win, turned and stormed back to his truck without another word.
As the man drove off, Zaid exhaled a long breath, shaking his head as he rolled the window back up. "Bro, Zughaib, you didn't have to—"
Zughaib simply grunted, looking back at Zaid.
Zaid looked at him for a moment, a mixture of concern and admiration in his eyes. "You know, one day you're gonna have to tell me where you learned to fight like tha... oh wait, nevermind."
Zughaib didn't respond. He just stared out the window, the parking lot now eerily quiet after the brief confrontation.
They got out of the SUV and headed toward the mall entrance, the hum of activity inside a stark contrast to the tense silence that had followed them out of the car. But as they walked in, Zughaib couldn't shake the feeling that the peace wouldn't last. The shadows of his past were never far behind, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they caught up with him again.