Daan leaned back in the worn passenger seat of Drejo's beat-up car, the upholstery sticky with age and old fast-food grease. They had parked outside the dingy motel where Daan spent the night. The sun had barely risen, casting a pale light over the grim streets of Graycloud.
The smell of freshly made sandwiches in the cramped car fought a losing battle against the scent of mildew and engine oil.
Drejo handed Daan one of the sandwiches, grinning as he had just delivered a gourmet meal. "Bon appétit, my man."
Daan peeled back the wax paper with mild curiosity. The sandwich inside was a work of art—unexpectedly refined for someone like Drejo.
Slices of thick, buttery brioche cradled layers of marinated chicken breast, cooked to golden perfection with a hint of char.
A dollop of garlic aioli peeked from under crisp Romaine lettuce leaves, and vibrant, sun-dried tomatoes added bursts of tangy sweetness.
But it didn't stop there. A perfectly fried egg sat between the chicken and lettuce, the yolk still soft and ready to burst at the first bite.
Melted provolone cheese oozed from the sides, melding with thinly sliced pickles and caramelized onions.
"Where the hell did you learn to make sandwiches like this?" Daan asked, mouth half-full.
Drejo gave a smug smile. "Spent a year working at a deli after I dropped out of school. An old Italian dude taught me the ropes. Said if I ever needed to bribe the heart of a girl, a good sandwich would do the trick."
Daan took another bite; the flavor was so good it grazed divinity. For a brief moment, Graycloud's dreariness and their situation's absurdity faded into the background.
"Yo! You outdid yourself, man," Daan admitted between bites. "If we die because of this tape, at least I'll go with a full stomach."
Drejo chuckled, unwrapping his own sandwich and taking a massive bite. He chewed thoughtfully, staring at the gloomy streets through the cracked windshield.
"So," Daan began, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You got any leads on the Madako case?"
Drejo shook his head, still chewing. "Nah, nothing solid yet. But I talked to my cousin—y'know, the one who's into all that occult shit. He said we should try contacting Resolute."
Daan raised an eyebrow. "Contact him? How the hell are we supposed to do that? Just put a bat symbol in the sky and hope he shows up?"
Drejo smirked, licking a stray bit of aioli from his thumb. "Nah, it's easier than that. Resolute's got an app. It's called 'ResoluteUrProblem.'"
Daan blinked, taken aback. "Wait... The guy's got an app?"
"Yeah," Drejo said, casually pulling out his phone. "He's like the islands boogie-man, but the dude's practical. It's like one of those crime-reporting apps, but this one goes straight to him. He's the one who handles the real nasty stuff."
Daan leaned over, intrigued, as Drejo tapped on the app icon—a stylized silhouette of a hooded figure holding a gavel.
The interface was surprisingly sleek and professional, with sections to report different types of crimes: Robbery, Assault, Arson, and one labeled "Weird Shit."
Drejo selected the last option, a grin spreading across his face. "See? He's even got a section for stuff like stuff like cursed tapes."
"You gotta be kidding me," Daan muttered, half-impressed.
Drejo started typing up the report. "I'm gonna tell him the truth. No point sugarcoating it."
He narrated aloud as he typed: "One of our friends, Johnny, watched some cursed tape and ended up dead. His mouth was foaming, no wounds, no signs of a fight. We saw some freaky woman crawl inside his TV. Shit's getting out of hand. -Anonymous"
Drejo hit send with a flourish. "And now we wait." Daan leaned back, crossing his arms. "You think he'll take this seriously?"
Drejo shrugged, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. "If it's weird enough, Resolute usually shows up. Guy's got a nose for trouble."
"What about Smoking?" Daan asked, voicing the concern gnawing at the back of his mind. "Won't he kill us if he finds out we talked to Resolute?"
Drejo waved off the concern, wiping his hands on a paper napkin. "Nah, Smoking and Resolute have... an understanding."
Daan narrowed his eyes. "An understanding?"
"Yeah," Drejo said, crumpling the napkin and tossing it onto the dashboard. "They're on bad terms, sure. But neither of them messes with the other unless necessary. Smoking keeps his business on the streets as clean as one can be, doesn't kill women or children, and usually robs thugs or other gangs, and Resolute handles the crazy shit. It's like... professional courtesy."
Daan let out a low whistle. "So, what you're saying is, as long as we don't make a big fuss, we're good."
"Exactly," Drejo confirmed, popping open a can of Soda-Cola. "Smoking's smart. He knows when to stay in his lane."
Daan stared out the windshield, watching the flickering neon signs reflect off the rain-slick streets. The weight of their situation pressed down on him again, but at least now they had a plan—sort of.
"So, we just wait for a vigilante to come save our asses?" Daan asked, half-sarcastic.
Drejo chuckled, taking a swig of his soda. "Pretty much. Unless you wanna go back to the bar and ask that old lady for more cursed tapes."
Daan groaned, leaning his head against the window. "I think I'll pass."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the low hum of the car's engine the only sound in the background.
Then Drejo tapped Daan on the shoulder, grinning. "Hey, at least if Resolute doesn't show, we still have sandwiches."
Daan snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah. Best last meal I've ever had."
They sat there, parked in front of the run-down motel, when suddenly Daan got a call.
"Hey! That bitch Madako is calling!" Drejo quickly got on alert. Daan turned on his phone and put it on speaker; an unknown number was calling them, and they couldn't waste any chance with what they lived through the night before.
"Salut?"
Daan picked up the call. "Oh...Hey, Ana." He glanced at Drejo, who gave him a knowing smirk before popping open another Soda-Cola and waving him off, returning to eat his sandwiches.
"Where did you go?" Ana's soft voice drifted through the receiver; her usual teasing edge masked her concern. "I went to check on you, but your place was empty."
Daan leaned back into his seat, staring at the cracked windshield. "Yeah, I'm on a business trip... in Uchaina."
The line went silent momentarily, and Daan could almost hear her breath hitch. "Uchaina?" she repeated, her voice tinged with worry. "What are you doing there, Daan? That place isn't safe."
Drejo looked back at Daan and flipped him off; Daan put on the call back to just the two as he, too, flipped off Drejo.
Daan felt a flicker of guilt at her genuine concern. "It's nothing serious, Ana. Just chasing down some opportunities, making a bit of cash."
"Chasing opportunities in Uchaina?" she asked skeptically. "You couldn't have picked somewhere... less dangerous?"
He smiled softly, appreciating her concern despite how complicated their relationship had become. "I'll be fine, Ana. I know how to keep out of trouble."
Another pause followed, her voice softer this time, almost vulnerable. "I just... Daan. People go there and..." She trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished, her fear unspoken but heavy.
"Hey," Daan said gently, "I'll be careful. I promise. Nothing's going to happen to me."
Ana let out a small sigh on the other end of the line, the tension in her voice easing slightly. "Okay... Just don't disappear without telling me next time, alright?"
Daan hesitated, an idea forming in his mind. He wanted to test his [Normalize] ability's limits and see how far it could go.
Daan cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "It is normal for you to open up about your feelings to me."
There was a brief silence, and for a moment, Daan wondered if it had worked—Then, her voice returned, softer, more candid than he'd ever heard it.
"You... have no idea how lonely it gets sometimes."
Daan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he kept quiet, letting her continue.
"I act like I've got everything together," Ana admitted, her tone raw and vulnerable. "I run this building, deal with people's shit every day, and I'm supposed to be... this independent woman who doesn't need anyone." She let out a bitter laugh. "But... It's exhausting, Daan."
He listened, stunned by the sudden intimacy of her confession. "Ana..."
"I hate that I worry so much," she continued, her voice shaky.
"And when you said you disappeared, I just... I don't know. I thought I'd never see you again."
Daan's grip on the phone tightened. He hadn't expected her to open up this deeply—he hadn't realized how much she cared.
"I'm sorry I scared you," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to."
Ana exhaled slowly. "It's not your fault. I just... don't want to lose the few people I care about, not again..."
Daan swallowed, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. For all her teasing and times she stuck his ass for rent, she sure was caring, and he learned Ana carried burdens he hadn't even imagined; well, she did carry to mountains—"You're not going to lose me, Ana. I promise."
The silence that followed was heavy but not awkward.
"Just... come back safe, okay?" she whispered.
"I will," Daan promised.
Ana let out a small, relieved laugh. "Alright. I'll let you go. But you owe me dinner when you get back, mister."
Daan grinned. "Deal."
As the call ended, he sat there momentarily, still processing the unexpected honesty that had spilled from Ana.
[Normalize] had worked—too well, perhaps—but it had also given him a glimpse of the real Ana beneath her angry tenant exterior.
Drejo nudged him with his elbow, grinning. "Who knew you were such a softie?"
Daan chuckled, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Yeah... Who knew?" He lied without realizing he did.