After a refreshing rest, Arslan wasted no time in getting ready for the day ahead. He freshened up, enjoyed a quick breakfast, and then set off, navigating the bustling streets of New York. Despite wearing his work uniform, a reminder of his need for a regular job to sustain his living expenses, he deviated from his usual path toward the fast-food restaurant. Instead, he halted in front of a strip club, a place that held a sense of familiarity for him.
Without hesitation, Arslan discarded his cigarette and entered the establishment. The atmosphere, though known for its provocative nature, did not deter him. As he stepped inside, his eyes landed on a familiar face, prompting a smile to grace his lips. "Good morning, Mia" Arslan greeted the young lady, who, despite the nature of this place, was dressed modestly.
"Hey, Arslan. How are you even able to walk after yesterday's fight?" the girl inquired, curiosity evident in her voice. She had been among the spectators who had witnessed the intense bout, and now she marveled at his seemingly unscathed state.
Arslan shrugged nonchalantly, his smile unwavering. "Ice does wonders for me," he replied, before continuing, "Is Elijah around? He told me to come by."
The girl nodded, confirming Elijah's presence. "Yes, he's in his office with the manager," she informed Arslan, who expressed his gratitude before making his way toward the office as he had no time to waste.
The strip club was deserted, devoid of customers apart from the janitors dutifully cleaning and a few workers organizing the space and no performers, which was something that Arslan was looking forward to seeing when he woke up, but remembered the club doesn't open until 5pm.
As Arslan approached the door to the office, he rapped his knuckles against the open door. The sound caught Elijah's attention, prompting him to rise from his seat, a welcoming smile playing on his lips.
"Welcome welcome, my new champion," Elijah greeted him warmly. As the owner of both the strip club and the underground fighting club that Arslan had participated in the previous day, Elijah exuded an air of authority and charisma.
"Am I interrupting something?" Arslan inquired tentatively, observing the formidable stack of paperwork Elijah and his manager were diligently poring over, briefly contemplating a more suitable time to return.
Without hesitation, the seasoned man waved off his manager and gestured for Arslan to take a seat. "No need, come and sit," Elijah invited warmly, prompting Arslan to occupy the now-vacant chair, the soft click of the closing door marking the beginning of their conversation.
"Would you like a drink or something to eat?" Elijah extended a courteous offer, but Arslan declined, having recently eaten at his apartment.
"No need, thank you," Arslan declined politely, swiftly redirecting the conversation to the purpose of his visit. "I'm here, so, what did you want to talk about?" he inquired, prompting Elijah to recline comfortably in his chair with a knowing smile.
"Kids these days lack manners in business transactions," Elijah remarked, eliciting a chuckle from Arslan.
"It's not that. I just don't want to be late for work," Arslan explained, mindful of the ticking clock nearing his scheduled shift.
I think those fools left you with nothing for you to go to work the next day asfter a major fight" Elijah teased about the lack of remnants left by the Moyah Family from the previous day, to which Arslan simply shrugged, a nonchalant response to the jest.
"Anyway, I don't think you'll need that job for long after you hear what I have for you," Elijah hinted cryptically, sparking curiosity in Arslan's eyes.
"Why's that?" Arslan questioned, his expression a blend of curiosity and concern. Despite his success to become a champion in the underground fights, he knew the earnings from the bouts fell short of settling his parents' looming debt.
As the conversation unfolded, Arslan couldn't shake the nagging weight of his financial obligations, even amidst the allure of Elijah's mysterious proposition. The prospect of a larger income and a swift resolution to his familial debts tantalized him, fueling his intrigue.
Arslan's mind whirled with figures as he mulled over the staggering weight of his parents' debt, a hefty sum of 420 thousand with accumulating interest. Having only managed to chip away 55 thousand through his hard-earned fighting purses, he realized the daunting challenge ahead. As a champion, Each bout would yield a minimum of 5000 from now on, indicating a long and grueling journey before he could even consider bidding farewell to his mundane job.
Curiosity danced in Arslan's eyes as Elijah finally unveiled the enigmatic task he had in store for him. "There's a problem that I need you to solve for me," the old man disclosed, drawing Arslan's focus to the impending challenge at hand.
"I need you to go and rough up some idiot who's fallen behind on his payments for this week," Elijah instructed, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Arslan couldn't help but crack a smile at the irony of his own financial predicament mirroring that of his prospective target.
"Will it be just roughing up, or is there more to it?" Arslan inquired cautiously, his thoughts veering toward the ominous possibilities of Elijah's requests, perhaps even veering into the realm of irreversible actions.
Elijah's hearty laughter reverberated in the room as he leaned back behind his desk, his amusement palpable. "No need to worry, young man. I wouldn't task you with more than roughing up that fool," he reassured, his tone firm yet lighthearted.
Despite Elijah's assurances, a flicker of unease crept into Arslan's mind, a shadow of doubt cast upon the old man's casual demeanor. The nonchalant mention of violence and darker deeds stirred a sense of caution within Arslan, prompting him to probe further.
"Why wouldn't you send one of your men instead of me?" Arslan questioned, seeking clarity on Elijah's unusual choice. Elijah's response was met with a wry smile as he hinted at the distinctive appearance of his formidable associates, a memory that elicited a chuckle from Arslan, reminiscent of their intimidating presence.
As the conversation unfolded, Arslan couldn't help but reflect on the curious blend of danger and intrigue that seemed to accompany every interaction with Elijah. The old man's cryptic nature and unconventional methods only served to deepen Arslan's entanglement in a web of uncertainty and clandestine dealings.
"Alright, how much am I expecting to be compensated for this task?" Arslan inquired, his gaze fixed on Elijah, awaiting the inevitable reply.
"Well, let's say you can claim this week's intended payment he owed me, totaling around 12.5k," the old man revealed, prompting a mix of surprise and disappointment to flicker across Arslan's features.
The sum, while substantial, fell short of alleviating his burdensome debt, signaling the need for further dealings with Elijah to make significant strides towards financial freedom.
The realization dawned on Arslan that this payment was likely a one-time offer, not a sustainable solution to his mounting obligations. A tinge of resignation colored his voice as he contemplated the additional jobs that lay ahead, each a stepping stone towards his ultimate goal.
"Well, I suppose I've got three jobs on my plate now," Arslan remarked to Elijah, whose knowing smile hinted at the intricacies of their intertwined fates. Without missing a beat, the old man retrieved a piece of paper from his desk, bearing vital information about their target, and handed it to Arslan, eliciting a playful jab about modern communication methods.
"You know there's this thing called phones, right?" Arslan teased, amused by Elijah's reliance on more traditional tools in a digital age.
"I know," Elijah replied with a hint of nostalgia, acknowledging the potential risks of electronic trails. "And there's also the matter of leaving behind evidence when sending around these informations to your phone, isn't it?" he quipped, shedding light on his cautious approach to communication.
Arslan's understanding nod signaled his compliance with Elijah's methods, recognizing the importance of discretion in their clandestine dealings. "Make sure to remember it all before you dispose it. I expect nothing but excellence from you," Elijah emphasized, his words laden with unspoken expectations.
With a final nod of acknowledgment, Arslan bid Elijah farewell, the weight of his newfound responsibilities settling upon his shoulders as he exited the office, bracing himself for the tasks that lay ahead.
As Arslan left the office, he spotted Mia once again, balancing a plate with coffee and a light breakfast. She stood just outside the owner's office, and even in her modest attire a fitted blouse that hugged her curves and a knee length skirt that swayed gently with her movements, she radiated an undeniable allure.
Her long, dark hair cascaded in soft waves around her shoulders, and her striking eyes sparkled with mischief. The subtle shade of rose on her lips accentuated her warm smile, making Arslan's heart race as she approached.
"Hey, Mia," he called out, leaning casually against the wall. "When are you gonna give me your number? I'm starting to look like a beggar at this point."
Mia paused, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "I keep telling you, you're too young for me," she said, her voice light and teasing. She leaned slightly closer, giving him a glimpse of her collarbone, and Arslan felt a spark of excitement.
"Too young? I'm a grown man," he replied, trying to sound confident. "Besides, age is just a number, right?"
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You really think so? Go and find some girl your age to play with," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"But none of them compare to you," Arslan countered, unable to hide his admiration. "You bring breakfast to your boss, but who's bringing you breakfast?"
Mia raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Are you offering to cook for me, Arslan?" she replied, her tone flirtatious. "I'm not sure if you're ready for that kind of commitment."
"Anything for you," he said, feigning seriousness. "I could whip up something special. You'd be my muse."
Mia stepped back slightly, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "You're charming, I'll give you that. But charm only goes so far."
As she turned to head into the office, Arslan called out, "Can you pretend that I'm not younger than you for one day? Just give me a chance."
She glanced back at him, her expression playful yet thoughtful. "Maybe one day, Arslan. But for now, keep working on your cooking skills."
With that, she opened the door, leaving him standing there, captivated by her presence, a mix of hope and frustration swirling in his chest as he watched her figure disappear into the office.
As Mia vanished behind the office doors, Arslan released a wistful sigh, his gaze lingering on the now-empty hallway. A quick glance at his watch jolted him back to reality, a sharp exhale escaping his lips as he realized the passage of time. With a resigned click of his tongue, he hastened his steps, the looming specter of tardiness for his mundane day job propelling him forward.