“Are you in trouble? What is going on? Are you being stalked?”

These were the questions Desirae was drowning out as Zeke tailed her down the Chicago Riverwalk. She shoved her hands into her pockets before sighing, shaking her head.

“No, I’m not in trouble, Zeke. I can handle myself.”

“Handle yourself?” he scoffed, throwing his hands up in the air when she turned over her shoulder to look at him. “What is he, anyway? A ganglord? Pimp? Wait…”

Zeke grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her so she was looking at him. His eyes were masked with worry, and his bottom lip had the subtlest tremble.

“Are you getting into drugs? Do you owe him money?”

Cackling, Desirae tore her wrist from his and crossed her arms over her chest. “No, Zeke! I’m not doing drugs. I don’t owe him money. It’s fine.”

Zeke huffed and, too, crossed his arms. “Then, who is he?”

A no-life degenerate who is blackmailing me, Zeke. “A friend.”

“How’d you meet him?”

Desirae hesitated, pinching her palms with her fingernail and let out an exasperated sigh. “Does it matter, Zeke? Just trust me. I’m fine.”

Zeke frowned and dropped his arms to his side, moving his stare to the water to watch the idle waves ripple. It was a few minutes before he said anything again, so long in fact that Desirae was confused whether she should keep standing there or not. “I miss high school, Des.”

“I’m sorry?” Desirae scoffed. “You miss high school? I hated it when we could hang out together between classes, and I sure as hell hate it now that you’ve graduated. What makes you miss it?”

He shrugged and turned back to her. “Lots of reasons. Post-high school ain’t that great.”

Desirae frowned, cocking her head to the side as curiosity tickled her mind. “What’s goin’ on? You’re normally not such a pessimist.”

“So, let me get this straight…” Zeke began, waving her to keep walking down the riverwalk. “You want me to ignore the fact that you had a guy eating you with his eyeballs, and flick cigar ash in my face, but expect me to tell you the shit happening in my life? No, ma’am.”

“He flicked what in your face?” Desirae gaped with raised eyebrows. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Zeke hummed and looked at her in bewilderment. “How did you get involved with a guy like that? What are you guys, friends with benefits?”

“Not at all.” Desirae recoiled. The thought of hooking up with a guy like DeVile was worse than any sour fate she could imagine. She envisioned jumping off a cliff into a field of nails to be more enjoyable than screwing that loaded jerk. “I can’t tell you how I know him.”

Zeke looked offended, a flash of sadness crossing his features as he pulled his shoulders up in a defeated shrug. “Alright, fine. Let’s just drop it, then.”

Nodding, Desirae lowered her stare to the ground as they walked onward, only parting ways once they came to Main Street. From there, he gave her the most awkward side hug he had ever given her and told her: “Call me when you need me. Be careful this Friday.”

⟨ᴠᴀɢʀᴀɴᴛ⟩

DeVile sat atop the roof of a penthouse club, circling his whiskey around the bottom of his glass while he stared down at the city grounds. Currently, he could see each passerby that made way throughout the night, only stopping to look out at the city skyline and water. The music was slowing, the crowd was thinning, but his night was not done.

“DeVile,” a sickly sweet voice called from the doorway. He did not turn, he only lifted his glass in a half-assed salute before downing the rest. “It’s been too long.”

Smacking his lips, he turned and rested his elbows on the glass fencing. Before him stood a woman, with curly blue hair that cascaded down her back. Her skin was held together by the crossed scarring of her augmentations, tracing her cheekbones and finding their way down beneath the fabric of her dress. Her entire right arm was metal and plated with glowing, electric wires that radiated into the night. Her eyes, as blue and radiant as the sea, raked up and down his body in an ill attempt at flattering him. He was disgusted in the best way possible.

“I wanted to thank you personally for your generous donation, Vesna,” DeVile said before setting his drink on the table. “I wasn’t aware your club grew so exclusive.”

She swayed her way towards him, resting her side on the fence and leaned forward to whisper. “The pleasure is all mine, DeVile.”

Scoffing, he pushed himself off the railing and paced the patio casually, watching as a car flew by and disappeared into the night. “What is it you wanted to gain out of that donation?”

“You doubt me,” Vesna gasped and placed a hand over her chest. He couldn’t help but watch as her finger trailed down the center of her chest. Vesna was a Russian goddess set to destroy everything he had built. For some reason, though, she dangled this fear above his head like he was a dog waiting to be fed. DeVile wished she would just bite the bullet and make her move, but regardless he was sure she would be the hand behind a full-blown cybernetic war hosted in the middle of the street. She was just that level of crazy.

“I do not doubt you, doubting would mean there was a semblance of generosity in your heart. What is it you want?”

Letting her hands rest at her side, she smiled wickedly at him and flashed her brows. “The word on the street is there is a war on the brink.”

“War? In Chicago? I think you are underestimating the power of this government. Martial Law would become the next new thing far sooner than a war on the streets.”

“I think you’re underestimating the sources I am getting my intel from.”

He hesitated before waving his hand in the air. “Alright, let’s pretend I can trust you. What then? What sources do you have tucked up your sleeve?”

Vesna made her way towards him, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket playfully. “Oh, please, DeVile. You are making me out to be a very unwelcoming hostess. Do you see how hard I am trying?”

“Trying what? To slip something in my drink?”

She laughed a laugh so obnoxious it hurt his ears. Such a beautiful woman hidden beneath a layer of unhinged, unattractive behaviors. It didn’t help that he wasn’t sure when she would snap, and send her tiny little militia after him and everybody he’s ever cared for. So far, she hadn’t yet threatened anything like that, but DeVile has seen her take down men in high places with the flick of her wrist. Vesna was a puppeteer to a lot of things that influenced WiredSec, this meant he had to play somewhat nice with her. At least she was nice to look at.

“I can slip something else to you,” she teased and trailed her finger along the skin of his forearm, her nail gently scratching against the exposed skin and traced over any of the metal linings of his augments. Eventually, she turned his hand over to rest something in his palm. “You have been a big fish in a small pond, DeVile. It’s time you got freed into the ocean.”

He raised a brow, looking down at his hand to eye the key, the base of it holographic and transparent. He twiddled it between his fingers before raising his gaze to her. He had no reason to trust this woman, she was malicious and vindictive; a vixen with a heart of ice. He had witnessed many men fall at the hands of her, leaders turned to rubble and ashes—only to be remembered in the memories of a clandestine carnage.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

She stepped back with a pout, letting her fingers linger in his palm before letting it lazily fall. “You don’t trust me, I can see this. Whatever reasoning you have for finding me elusive is your fate to live, however...” she hesitated, her lip twitching into a smirk. “I trust you, DeVile. I trust you to carry along the message needed to start a revolution.”

“Revolution?”

Vesna nodded, twiddling a piece of her hair between her fingers idly before walking to the other side of the patio. She side-eyed the men who walked by, eyes narrowed and lips pursed until they were inside the club. “A revolution, DeVile. Fire to the streets, government to be overtaken. I need a voice to this message.”

“You are asking the wrong person.”

“I do not think I am,” she said sharply, turning her head over her shoulder to look at him. “Take that key to Broady & Sons Bank. The safety deposit box is in your name.”

“Vesna—”

She held her hand up, shooing him away with one smooth wave. “I am done with you, now. I will call for you when you are needed again, DeVile.”

Clenching his jaw, he gripped the key in his hand tight before turning on his heel, making his way outside. He felt like a dog on a leash, he knew that money would come into play one way or another. Vesna was a calculated beast, a person who never did something just to. It would always benefit her, always. In this instance, she now funded the WiredSec headquarters for the next year—all for the small price of indentured servitude. Placing the key in his pocket, he got on his motorcycle and let out a sigh.

I’m way too insignificant to be dealing with this shit.