Jazzlyn stepped into her new room, the door sliding shut with a soft mechanical hiss. Much like the rest of the building, her new quarters were minimalist—bare white walls, a simple desk, a surprisingly large bed and a small mirror hung on the far side. It was a sharp contrast from the messy room she'd slept all her life in, a minor reminder that this was no longer her world. Her only comfort in this web of danger came from the fact that it was her own personal space nobody save for the executives could barge into, and Noah mentioning she could customize the room to her tastes. He even offered to help put up posters.
She walked up to the mirror, taking a moment to look at her own reflection. The past few hours had been so chaotic she nearly forgot what she looked like. Her back length maroon dreadlocks hung loosely, still damp from the sweat of scurrying around in panic fueled survival while her ebony skin glistened under the lighting. The injury from where the bullet grazed her came into view and she couldn't help but wince as she ran her hand over it. It now stood as a reminder of what Levi had done to her, and a blemish on her otherwise perfectly smooth features. Her frame was lean and unimposing, yet defined from years of roughing it on the streets with her brother. Admittedly, she was built more for endurance than shows of physical strength. Brown speckled eyes stared back at her, wrought with mental exhaustion.
Jazzlyn sighed, running a hand through her locks. As much as she wanted to curl up in the comfortable looking bed and sleep her worries away, she couldn't. There was simply no time for thinking about regrets, what-ifs or everything else that had happened recently. Whatever emotions were bubbling up inside her, she buried. This was do or die now, and it was all too easy to lose her head in this environment, both literally and figuratively. From here onward it was survival or nothing.
---
Jazzlyn's introduction to the weapons department was quick just like everything else in Taitanzu. She had barely changed into fresh clothes when she was ushered across the compound to her new station by a pair of no-nonsense lieutenants. Maybe Noah was busy. The metallic odor of oil and steel filled the air while the whirring of the machines created a constant hum in the background. It wouldn't be inaccurate to call it a mechanical hive, every weapon assembled with cold efficiency. One thing she couldn't help but notice though, were the dried blood splatters on the wall, ceiling, floor…basically everywhere.
Waiting to show her the ropes was Z. Z, unlike the depressing scenery around her, was an anomaly—pleasant, smiling, and…huge. Jazzlyn had never seen anyone quite like her. Z was towering, standing even taller than Clovis, with broad arms that could crush steel with ease. Her spiky flowing mane of pink hair and one discolored eye only served to make her look more anomalous. Just standing there, she seemed every bit as intimidating as the executives.
"Hey!" Z's voice boomed in a cheerful greeting. "You must be Jazzlyn. Welcome to the weapons department, or as we call it, Casey's Slaughter Pit!"
The overwhelmingly friendly energy Z exuded hit her like a truck, momentarily distracting her from the fact this place was called the Slaughter Pit. From her short time here, she'd simply assumed that everyone in the organization was a murder happy psychopath just itching to rip out her heart. Z's genuine friendliness caught her so off guard Jazzlyn found herself blinking in surprise. This extremely sociable giantess was going to be her new co-worker?
"Yeah, uh… that's me," Jazzlyn replied awkwardly, trying to match the enthusiasm and failing miserably. She was never the peppy type.
"Don't fret" Z continued, leaning down slightly to get a better look at her, her massive frame casting a shadow over Jazzlyn. "I promise it's not as crazy as it looks. The machines do all the work. Our job is just to make sure they work well, and record any defects. At the end of the day, you just need to be attentive. I know it sounds like a lot, but I'm POSITIVE you'll get the hang of it!!!" She cheered loudly before handing Jazzlyn a tablet filled with schematics and weapon specifications. "Basically, you'll be doing quality assurance!"
Jazzlyn glanced at the intricate designs on the screen, trying to make heads or tails of what she was looking at. "Got it."
"I give her two weeks."
A man with vitiligo grunted from where he was next to a large machine. Jazzlyn didn't even notice that someone else had been silently watching from nearby. Broad shouldered but short of stature, he had a somewhat unwelcoming presence that contrasted sharply with Z's lighthearted demeanor. His pitch black eyes watched her from underneath a curtain of wiry brown hair.
Z pouted at him, clearly not appreciative of his words. "Don't say that Tav, you'll scare her to death! Remember your first day? Be cool." She turned back to Jazzlyn and smiled. "Tavion and I will show you the ropes, and before you know it, you'll be part of the family. The big gun-toting, profanity-spewing, blood-spilling family that is Taitanzu!"
"Just remember, the Weapons Branch is directly under Mr Casey. If the perpetual anger on his face didn't clue you in, he hates screwups. Just ask the batch of workers before us" Tavion spoke dryly, gesturing to one of the bloodstains on a nearby conveyor belt.
"C'mon Tav I told you not to scare her" Z whined before turning to face her, looking uncharacteristically serious. "In all seriousness though Mr Casey will beat us half to death if we screw around too much. Keep your head on tight eh lass?"
That wasn't comforting news to hear at all. She could imagine what working under each of the other executives could have been like. Probably not much better than this.
Still, there was a question she needed answered.
"Are we the only three working here?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Boris couldn't keep paying for everybody Casey broke so he just replaced most of the human jobs in this department with machines. Tavion's in charge of them, while I shift between quality assurance and machinery. We're meant to get new recruits soon though. But enough chatting around, before he shows up"
As she set herself to work alongside them, the knot of anxiety in Jazzlyn's stomach loosened a bit. Knowing she had companions, albeit strange ones, made the uncertainty of her new environment a bit more bearable.
—
Sat in the far corner of a dimly lit bar were two ladies, the typical sounds of rowdy conversation and clinking glasses a haze around them. One of them was clearly too young to be in a bar, while the other looked like the everyday homeless lady you'd stumble upon at a gas station. The younger of the two slouched in her seat, slowly eating the messily laid spaghetti in front of her while her legs swung lazily beneath the table. She twirled her fork around, rolling up a decent amount of pasta before shoving it into her mouth, chewing loudly as she looked around the bar, her curious eyes taking note of every little detail of the establishment's architecture. The scarless skin of her young face shone under the bar's neon lights, her demeanor relaxed.
The other lady, despite her disheveled and wild appearance, was seated with perfect posture, a half drank bottle of rum in her right hand. Leaning next to her stool was a long walking cane with a solid steel handle. Her dark eyes were focused, scanning the bar with a quiet paranoia that didn't waver for a single second. She was dressed in a ragged coat full of patches, and her bleached hair was unruly and all over the place. If not for the composure with which she carried herself, she would easily be assumed to be a mad woman. Despite the unassuming nature of the two, there was an undeniably tense feeling in the air around them, like a snake that had coiled into a ball, ready to strike.
The bar's door swung open, and a group of small-time gangsters, even lower than Purgatory, walked in like they owned the place. Their leader, a stocky hoodlum with a shaved head and a smile that reeked of hubris spotted the two. His eyes flicked over them, lingering a bit on the young one's face. He ran a hand across his smooth head and grinned.
"What's this? Two beautiful ladies enjoying a quiet night out?" he jeered, stepping closer with his posse not far behind. "How bout me and the boys join you? Make the night extra fun?"
The younger one didn't bother looking up, sucking up the last of her spaghetti like a child. When the final strand made its way into her mouth, she turned to her companion with a bright smile, sauce dripping from her chin. "Look, Joan! My sixth plate down the hatch!"
Joan, who had also paid the men no mind, nodded slowly and raised a napkin to clean the younger one's mouth. "You're so happy because it isn't coming out of your own damned wallet eh Amber?"
The leader took a second to recover from being so flawlessly ignored, then laughed darkly. "Listen you two bitches, didn't you learn not to ignore a man when he's talking to you?"
Amber looked away from Joan, finally acknowledging the gangster's presence. She tilted her head in what looked to be confusion, staring out at the rest of his crew before finally meeting the leader's eyes. "Eeh." she said in a slow drawl, like she'd just woken up from sleep. For a few seconds she just stared, the tension in the air growing thick enough to cut with a knife. Joan made no moves, her fingers twitching in anticipation of the fight that was no doubt about to come.
The thug opened his mouth to say something, and all of a sudden he was on the ground, his face caved in.
It had happened too fast. Blindingly fast. Nobody in attendance could explain what had happened. The leader was just suddenly knocked out, and Amber was standing atop him with blood on her fist. A second passed, and then everything exploded into madness.
The other gangsters lunged forward, but Joan was already moving, a blur as she swung her walking cane into the face of one man, before stabbing into the stomach of another attacker with its other end. A swift high kick to another's knee sent him crashing to the floor, screaming. She moved with ruthless efficiency, each strike well placed and landing with devastating effect.
Amber meanwhile was clearly enjoying herself, tearing through people like a human wrecking ball. She grabbed one by the head and smashed him clean through the wooden wall, before charging straight into one trying to escape and breaking a bottle over his head. "Don't! Bother! Girls! In! A! Bar!" she reprimanded, her fist coming into contact with his face after each word said. By the time she was done, there was nothing left of his original facial structure.
In seconds, the fight was already over. The gangsters' bodies lay scattered across the bar floor, some groaning in pain while others were eerily silent. An entire group was wiped out in a flash. All except one, who stood frozen in place, his face pale with terror as he stared at the two ladies. His eyes darted from Amber, who was nonchalantly wiping blood on her clothes, to Joan, who was cleaning her cane with a cloth. Now that Amber was standing still, he took note of appearance.
She wore her dark gray hair tied up in two pigtails and had the brightest blue eyes you've ever seen. She had multiple piercings and her olive skin was covered in a number of tattoos despite her being no older than seventeen. The most noticeable of them all was a giant flaming bull head on her neck.
It clicked for him then.
The flaming bull. That was the insignia of one gang and one gang only. He'd heard the stories, but considered them nothing but tall tales spun by the gangsters of old. Whispers of the Fort Lauderdale Warriors, an unstoppable force and the only gang that cleanly surpassed Taitanzu in terms of raw power and territory. Rumor was that they were led by two women sent from the depths of hell itself, who wielded power far beyond the imaginations of anything they'd ever seen. The tales that followed them everywhere they went were always gruesome, and it was said that any sight of a flaming bull in your territory meant it was lost already.
They were known by many names. "The Human Cataclysm" Amber Alvarez, and Joan Wilde "The Beauty in Madness", her ruthless second-in-command. Together they were called the Dyad of Calamity. His throat tightened as he realized the horror standing in front of him. They were the legendary leaders. They were the true top of the food chain. Compared to them, everything Taitanzu did was mere child's play.
"I-it's…it's you….." he stammered, his voice trembling.
Amber tilted her head again, an unfortunate habit of hers. "Look Joan, we're famous"
Joan sighed, stepping over one of the fallen bodies with an annoyed expression. "You cause me so much trouble Amber." she sighed, looking straight at the surviving gangster. "What do you propose we do with him?"
The survivor's heart nearly stopped when Amber took a step toward him, looking bored out of her mind. "You look cool" she said, leaning in close to a tattoo on his arm.
"Run. I want you to send a veeeeery important message for me.Tell everyone you meet: Tallahassee. Must. Fall"