Khael stepped outside. He looked around the area. The bodies of guards, some barely alive, others completely still, were scattered all over the floor.
Suddenly, the obese man rushed back, his hands holding a small bloated bag. His breath came in quick bursts as he first held the bag out to Khael without saying any words.
"I-I got it," the man stammered, sweat pouring down his face.
Khael took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on the man. He grabbed the bag out of the man's outstretched hands without saying a word and looked inside. The man stood there, staring at him.
"C-can I go now?"
Khael's eyes became cold. Then, his face changed. A tiny, eerie smile crept on his face.
"Sure,"
Without warning, Khael drove a sharp kick into the man's gut. The force pushed him falling to the floor with a grunt. Khael didn't spare him another glance. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he turned and walked out.
Now came the next problem—finding Felix. He had done a great job distracting the guards, but Khael couldn't help but wonder if he was still alive.
Khael began his search, moving through the house. He peeked into a room that was completely trashed, overturned furniture and shattered glass everywhere. Nothing. He moved to the next room, only to find it locked. His eyes drifted to the staircase, where several bodies lay crumpled in heaps. Assuming Felix might have gone upstairs, Khael climbed over the mess and searched, but found nothing useful.
With a sigh, he descended the stairs and followed the trail of bodies. It led him through the halls, stopping abruptly before starting again in another direction.
*Did he go back to his place?*
Khael wondered.
He moved through the remaining part of the massive house. Unlike the rest, this area was clean.
There was a half open door at the end of the hallway. The area was lit up by pale light that came through. With caution, Khael moved forward and passed through, peering out.
Even though he hadn't expected it, Felix was there, sitting on the stairs under the open sky, gazing up at the stars. His clothing was ripped and covered with blood, but he had a calm, serene look on his face.
"Oh good, you're not dead. I was starting to plan your funeral." Khael said as he got there and sat down beside him.
At first, neither of them said anything. Khael put his elbows on his knees and looked straight ahead, although he wasn't really paying attention. He had no desire to disturb the silence. Right now, whatever he had to say felt pointless.
"Do you think my mother left because I was a burden?" Felix asked softly.
"Huh? Why's that?"
"You heard what the man said…"
Khael let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't get involved in family messes. I don't know what you went through and I dont care…"
Felix's expression didn't change, his eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the horizon. "It doesn't matter," he muttered after a beat. "I asked a dumb question."
"What? You want me to say something comforting? Like, 'No, she didn't leave or she'll come back'?"
Felix didn't react. Khael let out a sigh at his quiet reply.
"My mom said not to judge someone just because how you feel about them. Don't think that your mom left you. There must've something happened or maybe she has her reasons. Till you meet her, forget what you think and just keep calling her mom."
"What if she actually left me because I looked like a burden?"
"Then put all that blame on her! Tell her in the face that she sucks at being a mom!"
Felix let out a low laugh. "You're bad at this,"
"Doesn't matter," Khael shrugged, tossing the small bag onto Felix's lap. "Sitting here won't change anything."
Felix frowned, opening the bag cautiously. His eyes widened at the sight of cash. "Did you… kill him?"
"No. Why would I?"
"He might come after you. Or hurt someone else."
Khael scoffed. "Do I look like some kind of hero? Not my problem. My work here's done." He stood, motioning to Felix. "You coming or not?"
Felix sighed, standing as well. "Yes, sir."
They walked in silence until Felix broke it. "What are you planning to do with the money?"
Khael glanced at him, a grin spreading across his face. "You think I forgot what you said when we were kids?"
"What?"
Khael mimicked a voice, raising an arm dramatically, "'One day, I'll go to Commandeer Academy! yayyyy…'"
"I didn't say that."
"You did."
"No, I—"
"Yes, you did."
"…"
"Thought so. This should cover your enrollment fees."
Felix stared at him. "Why give it to me?"
"I don't have a bank account."
"What would've you done if you didn't get the money?"
Khael thought for a moment. "There are a lot of ways. The easiest would be to steal someone's pet, wait for a missing poster, and claim the reward."
For some reason, Felix wasn't amused by the response. It was like the typical answer someone would get from Khael. "Where did you even get that idea?"
"A friend of mine told me." Khael replied with a smirk.
They arrived at Felix's house, and it was just as rundown as he had described. Khael frowned as he observed the worn exterior.
"Hold on, you didn't say anything about staying at your place now, did you change your mind?"
Felix's expression remained flat. "If tight spaces bother you, you're welcome to stay on your comfortable bench." Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and stepped in.
"Well, they aren't comfortable…"
Khael trailed behind but froze as soon as he stepped inside. "What the…" There was only one tiny room in the entire apartment, hardly half the size of a typical bedroom. Only the necessities were inside: a little stove that was plugged into a socket, few water bottles, a thin blanket and pillow on the floor, rations piled around in a certain spot and clothes stacked in another.
Felix casually placed the bag in the only free corner and started boiling water on the stove, unbothered by Khael's reaction.
"What's for dinner?" Khael muttered as he awkwardly lay down on the floor. He tried to stretch out, but the lack of space made it impossible.
"Instant noodles," Felix replied flatly.
"Enjoy it yourself," Khael yawned, rolling onto his side to face the wall.
"You're already going to sleep?"
Khael lazily waved a hand. "Yeah, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow…" He let out another yawn and his words faded off. Within seconds, he was out cold, blissfully unaware of the room or anything else that followed.
The next morning, both of them sat behind a tiny table set up by the roadside. Behind them was a green field bordered by evenly spaced trees, giving the area a park-like feel. On the table sat a jar, two glasses, and a poorly written sign on a piece of paper that simply read "10."
Felix's blank expression hadn't shifted since they set up. "Are you sure this is going to work, sir?"
"Of course it will. We can't just walk into the bank with a bag of cash. They'll ask where it came from. This gives us a cover."
"And your solution is… a lemonade stand?"
"That's why the sign says '10.'
"…"
"Look, our first victim—uh, I mean, customer!" Khael muttered as a car approached. Without notice, he leapt up and began shouting at the top of his lungs.
"LOMONADE! LOMONADE!"
The vehicle came to a stop next to the table. A middle-aged man in a savvy suit rolled down his window and looked closely at the two, one of them smiling like an over-enthusiastic cheerleader and the other seemed like he had no idea why he was there.
"I'll take one," the man said.
"Great choice!" Khael poured from the jar into a glass and handed it over. The man raised it to his lips for a sip but he spat it out in disgust right away.
"What is this?! Saltwater?!" he exclaimed.
"I don't know," Khael replied coolly. "I just dumped the whole jar of salt in there."
"YOU CALL THIS LEMONADE?!"
"You've got a problem?" Khael looked him in the eye and asked. He spoke in an even tone, but the man's confidence faded at the look in his eyes. Swallowing hard, the man grumbled.
"How much?"
"Ten dollars," Khael said casually.
"TEN DOLLARS?! FOR THIS?! THIS IS A SCAM—"
"It's written right here." Khael pointed at the sign.
"IT JUST SAYS '10!' THIS IS STILL HIGHWAY ROBBE—"
"Are you paying or not?" Khael asked, standing up.
The man squared his shoulders. "What? You're going to hit me? I'll call the poli—"
Whack!
Khael's fist made a slight contact with the man's face, yet a drop of blood slid down from the nose by the controlled punch.
"Pay up," Khael said in a lower voice.
"Never—"
Wham!
Felix watched in silence, his expression unchanged. After a few more hits, the man, now battered and red-faced, weakly pulled out a ten-dollar bill .
"Just you wait! I'll be back for this!" the man spat as he closed the window and sped off.
"Yeah, yeah, get lost." Khael held the bill up to the light as if inspecting its authenticity. Satisfied, he stuffed it in his pocket and turned to Felix.
"Come on. Job's done."
Felix grabbed the bag with a sigh. "Was that really necessary?"
"What?"
"We could've just lied about where the money came from. No one's going to believe you earned it from selling lemonade anyway."
"Who said I earned it? It's my mom's money."
Felix stopped in his tracks. "Then all of this—"
"I just felt like selling lemonade today."
Felix let out a deep, tired sigh. "You're insufferable."
"Whatever, hurry up! We have a train to catch."