“And following the recent population spike of North Dakota’s New Era, it seems the week just cannot get any more…” the news anchor reported in her most professionally surprised voice.
Martha’s eyes were glued to the television. Her son chewed on his toasted ham and cheese sandwich. His ears tuned in and out of the report.
“…the demands for sufficient housing… May of next year, almost eleven months from now… In spite of this, many of these newcomers… the outskirts of the city. The so-called “heads” of… garnering the attention of local police and authorities…”
“Oh, my,” Mason’s mother said. “Looks like we have some more company here, huh?”
Mason grumbled, downing a can of soda.
“In other news… Energy Revelations and Arising Technologies’ headquarters, following a minor meltdown… leaving four immediate deaths, and many subsequent casualties… scientists have suspected this to be a malicious attack on ERATech as a whole…”
Mason stopped chewing. ERATech. Why did that name send shivers down his spine? He thought of the big purple freak that visited the house the other day. More chills.
“Director Verwalter Samara, former Administrator of… also denied any further investigations on the case, claiming the meltdown to be a ‘tragic and unprecedented accident’… allowed outside assistance from the Vitric to oversee a significant percentage…”
The news had always been a snooze fest for the junior Brown; he was getting about every third sentence from the segment. Population this, mass explosions that. He had always believed nothing good nor true ever came from the news, aside from when the next discontinued Kellogg’s product from ten years ago would suddenly be brought back to shelves by popular demand. He crushed the empty soda can and tossed it into the trash bin. It rebounded off the rim and clanked onto the floor. He bit into his sandwich.
“And additional security is also being placed around Aptitude Lake, which mysteriously boiled over on the same morning.”
Mason almost choked.
“Local police have spotted the remains of what appears to be a giant octopod near the shore, as well as a young woman lying unconscious on the road when the police arrived.”
Now it was his turn to glue his eyes to the TV.
“You okay, son?” His mother turned to check on him. “You look pale again.”
“I’m fine.” If that maniac snitched, it was over. He’d be put in jail. He’d probably see his father there. Maybe that bitch with the stupid fake name would be in the same cell as him. Or are prisons supposed to be gendered?
“When Sheriff Abigail Brooks came to question the woman, she claimed that she was the only one present at the time. The eyewitness identified herself as Carrie Thompson, a self-proclaimed religious leader of H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu character, who was attempting to summon him with dark magic. In her statement, she claimed the phenomenon was her doing alone, and that the once-small octopus she bought from the local pet store was the Chosen One. She has since been placed into custody until further notice.”
Martha noticed a huge sigh escape from her son’s lips. “You have something you’re not telling me, Mason?”
“Huh? Oh, Julie just texted back. She said she misses me.” He waved around his dry phone. At least the giant squid issue was taken care of.
“And that concludes today’s top stories. I’m Artemis Greenwood of the Channel 6 afternoon news, wishing all of you a good day.”
Mason shut the TV off before it cut to a cheesy family sitcom. “What a drag.”
“It’s good to stay informed, son. You never know what’s going on in the world until you stop and listen.”
“I wish you would’ve stopped and listened when I said this was a horrible choice to move to. Lakes are boiling over and science labs are blowing up. And hobos are squatting outside our neighborhood now. This place is worse than I thought.” Mason slumped in his chair. His mother stood up.
“Son. This was the only place we could move to. Would you rather we have no electricity in the Frontier? Would you rather we go to the East Coast, where your father’s co-workers are?”
“…No.”
“Goes to show how sheltered you are. I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. New Era is the best opportunity we can get right now, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you’ll grow to like it here. We have family members here who accept us, and now a steady income.”
“You got a job?”
“I’m starting next Monday at an accounting firm. It’s a start.”
Mason forgot his mother had a degree. She never thought about work back in Santa Barbara. Usually his dad brought in all the dough. And the alcohol.
The doorbell rang.
“We’ll continue this discussion later.” Martha moved around the table, exiting the kitchen to answer the front door to the left. Mason peered around the edge to see who it was. He wished he hadn’t.
“Well, if it isn’t Saki! How are you today, young man!”
“Doin’ aight. Is your son here?” The young guest stuffed his hands in two of his numerous pockets. This time, though, the amount wasn’t so obnoxious. He had donned a large yellow pullover sweater, with the hood over a blue baseball cap with a black dollar sign in front. Still tacky in Mason’s opinion, but a step up from the green fishing vest.
“Actually, he’s right here! How about you two talk for a bit?” Doing as many mothers do when they think their child is being a lazy sack of potatoes, she immediately dragged him by the pinching fingers into awkward socialization. Then she went back to watch more TV.
“‘Sup, Brownie?” Saki grinned.
“Where the hell did you learn that nickname?”
“Pearl.”
“Well, tell her to shove it. I’m not going by a stoner food name.”
“Hey, take it easy, man. Don’t insult my girl because you get pissy when people try to make friends with you.”
“Some way to make friends around here.”
“Welcome to New Era.”
“Charmed. Now what do you want?”
“Wanna hang out?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Saki paused. “Mrs. Brown, is it okay if we head to McDonald’s for a while?”
“Sure, dear! The boy needs a change of pace anyways!” Martha said across the house in a motherly tone Mason despised. “Just don’t be out too late!”
“We won’t! Come on, Brownie. Let’s go to McDonald’s.”
“What?” He whipped around, stammered a bit, then turned back to Saki, pointing a finger. “I did not agree to this.”
“You didn’t have to.” He took out his keys, twirling them in his finger.
Mason sat in the passenger seat of Saki’s Honda Fit, sighing to himself.
“So I’m guessing you met Splats?” the driver asked.
“You know her?” the passenger huffed.
“Everyone knows everyone, man. Small town, remember?”
“Is that her actual name? Nobody has that name.”
“What are you, a cop?” Saki chuckled. “No, that’s just what she calls herself. Something sex-related, I think.”
Figures. “You know her real name, then?”
“I’m not her dad, bro. You’re pretty inquisitive for someone who doesn’t care about the people here.”
“She took my money. Then made me kill a giant squid for it back.”
“I heard.” He made a right hand turn on an intersection, just a block or two away from his girlfriend’s family’s restaurant. “It’s been a weird few days, hasn’t it?”
“Weird isn’t the half of it. Nothing like Santa Barbara.”
“Santa Barbara sounds boring. No offense. Personally, if I had to choose between fighting a pair of crooks for my car over a life of palm trees and gentrified apartment debt, I’d like to live weird.”
He turned into a parking lot. The Golden Arches came into view. Mason tapped his fingers on the armrest of his seat. “How’s your shadow?”
“Which one?”
“The one that took that bullet for you.”
“Oh, Eros. He’s chilling. Still can’t bring him out, though.”
“How do you know he’s not dead, then?”
“How do you kill a shadow with a gun? Besides, I know he’s here. He’s like a part of me, you know? Like Drip. Or Chel, or Softy.”
“What are those, rejected BTS members?”
“Oh, right. You haven’t met the other shadows yet.” He went into the drive-thru, waiting for the speaker to turn on and ask him what he wanted.
“Yeah, uh, lemme get two McChickens, and a Diet Coke. Want anything, Brown?”
“I told you, no nicknames,” Mason grumbled.
“Brown isn’t your last name?”
“Ugh, whatever. And no, I just ate.”
The driver turned back to the speaker. “You got any McFlurrys left?”
“Sorry, sir, the ice cream machine is being fixed right now.”
“Damn. Lemme just get some fries then.”
Mason impatiently waited past the rest of the exchange. Five minutes later, they were parked in an empty spot of the lot, listening to whatever Saki had on the AUX. It was all in Japanese. If he did have an appetite, he lost it now for sure. He was holding the fries that were ordered for him.
“Why McDonald’s, though?”
“Hm?” The question caught Saki off guard, his face stuffed with McChicken.
“I expected this to be another day where I almost die. You could have taken me anywhere you wanted, and I would have no choice but to take it or else I’d be walking home. Why McDonald’s?”
“…Why not? Something wrong with Mickey D’s?”
“No, there’s something wrong with—” Mason paused. What was wrong with this? It was everything he wanted. Certainly a change of pace from everything else this week. No fights, no weirdos (minus his driver), nothing. He grabbed a fry and ate it. It was limp.
He heard an engine roar up to a parking space next to them. Saki knew it to be a 1969 Ford Mustang, looking out the driver’s window. Mason knew it to be an obnoxiously grey douche wagon. There was some punk on the phone inside, white-haired, brown-skinned, scar-faced and multicolor-eyed. He wore a varsity jacket in black and white, and even had on completely ivory jeans that looked stolen from Freddie Mercury’s wardrobe. As if a young man straight out of a teenager’s bad fanfiction just dumped the girl of his dreams and went to brood at the local McDonald’s parking lot. After all, anything could happen in this backwards town.
“You know that guy, Saki?”
“Not by name,” he said while shoving the last bit of chicken sandwich down his throat. “Uhh… not by face, either. He might just be passing through town.”
“And you said you knew everyone. You don’t think he’s another newcomer?”
“With a car like that? Gimme a break, Brown. Nobody would keep that muscle on wheels in a place like this unless they were living here or stopped for gas.”
Just then, the strange man stepped out of the Mustang. He slammed the door, pacing around and yelling something into his phone, which only Saki could make out:
“I don’t care how much money you’re paying me, I’m not going to do it! And I’m sure as hell not doin’ it alone! No, I don’t know anyone else! No, I… no, I don’t know who Brownie is. What is that, a weed strain? Look, just forget it! I’m heading over now.”
The stranger jogged off somewhere neither of the other boys could see, behind a brick wall separating the parking lot from the rest of the block.
“Dude,” Saki muttered, “I think he’s talking about you.”
Mason stood still. “What’d he say?”
“I dunno, someone’s paying him to do something with someone, something about a guy named ‘Brownie’. Has to be you, you’re the only guy with that nickname.”
“But how does he—” the boy facepalmed. That bitch. Of course. Now the whole town knows who he is. At least it felt like it. “Just when I thought today was gonna be a normal day…”
“Should we get outta here, Brown?” The driver took out his keys. “I can take you back home and we can forget about this.”
He paused for a moment. Yes, he’d be home and away from these freaks, but then what? That Q-Tip would find him eventually. Especially if that carrot top strung him around everywhere. And whatever he wanted him to do, it looked super illegal.
“No, Saki. I think we need some fresh air.”
He looked at the new kid blankly. “I can just roll the window down.”
“Get outta the car, stupid, we’re following the man.”
Saki leaned back in surprise. “Really? Dude, you don’t know who that guy is, he could be dangerous!”
“More dangerous than mutated squids or strange mobsters with guns?”
“Okay, fair point, but what would this even accomplish? Confront him and then what?”
“If he hates Splats as much as I do, convincing him to stop won’t be a problem. Hurry up,” Mason said, getting out of the passenger seat. He grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them in his mouth. Saki, reluctantly, did the same.
The strange stud with the phone was nowhere to be seen when the two ran over and rounded the brick wall behind the McDonald’s. All there was was a lone pothole with a wide space between the wall and several other buildings on the other side.
“Are you absolutely sure we wanna stop this guy?” Saki said. “He could be anywhere by now.”
“I’m not gonna be some errand boy to a circle of rats. If that’s what’s even going on.” Mason looked around. That man certainly wouldn’t hide in a mail office, or a pet store, like the places he saw just now. He looked like he was heading somewhere. Where would Splats meet with someone in private…
He looked down. The pothole was under his feet.
“No,” Saki said.
“Maybe,” Mason replied.
“Of all places? No way.”
“Saw it in a movie once.”
“This is not a movie!”
“You wanted a change of pace, didn’t you?” Mason smirked, prying open the entrance underground. He felt somewhat powerful knowing that this time, he was the one leading someone around. “Now get in. We got a guy to take care of.”
“…You so owe me one.” Saki gulped, pinching his nose and practically jumping feet first down the hole. There wasn’t a ladder to guide them down, but luckily it wasn’t a big drop. Saki landed his feet on a flat slab of concrete, breathing through his mouth and coughing the stench out.
“Eugh! That person better be down here!” The poor guy choked, watching Mason slowly slide himself down using his shoes as grip supports. He used one hand to cover his mouth.
“There’s no way I’m letting that woman get her way with me and my money a third goddamn time. Especially if she has proxies now.”
“There was a second time?” Saki helped his friend on the last few inches down. He suddenly winced. “I think I just stepped in something…”
“They’re Converse, get over it,” Mason scoffed. “We met once at a gas station. It was my first day here, before you and your girl came over for that stupid ‘hello new neighbor’ type shit. She stole a twenty from my wallet and bought a bunch of Takis with it.”
“Sounds like her, alright…” Saki agreed, walking slowly down the dark, dank underground corridor with him. “I don’t think she makes any money. We’ve never even seen where she lives. It’s like when she’s not in town causing trouble, she disappears.”
“What, she’s a bitch and a ghost?”
“I think she’s homeless.”
The boys walked a little further down.
“You got a phone? Turn your light on,” Mason said.
“Uh… is it weird to say I kinda like the dark?” His cohort wondered.
“Yeah. It is.” He shook his head, pulling out his own phone and turning on the flashlight.
The moment he did, he came face to face with someone who was not the white-haired teen drama character he was hoping to see, but someone much bigger. The even stranger man had muscles for days. A toned face sported a thick, sharp stubble, reaching up to his spiked black hair. Or maybe it was a really dark indigo, but it was too hard to tell in the dark. He didn’t have much time to think about the rest of his figure, like the giant scar that ran down his face, as one of his giant arms reached for his neck just then.
“Mason, look out!” Something ejected from Saki the moment he shouted, much like the time Eros appeared. Now, instead of a large shadow akin to a bodybuilder to match the real one in the sewer, it was a much thinner, meeker, scrawnier one that looked more like a pet snake with ears. Talk about a downgrade.
The new shadow lunged forward, veering the human beefcake’s arm off course. It wrapped around him like a constrictor, slowing him down. Mason jumped back.
“Who the hell is that? And what did you just throw around him?”
“I don’t know, and that’s Softy!” The shadowmancer cried. “All of them are stronger in the dark, so maybe—”
The man spontaneously lit aflame. Not like a bright glow that looked like fire; Mason could feel the shockwave of heat. The man was on fire.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” he said flatly, his flesh burning alive.
Saki’s shadow writhed. It almost shrieked under exposure from the blinding, sweltering light and heat. It released its grip and shrunk back into its host faster than it came out. Saki was at a loss for words.
“Back to the car?” Mason advised.
“Back to the car!”
That was the last thing they remembered under that sewer before going unconscious.
Mason’s brain turned back on. Not awake, but conscious. Where was he? What time was it? Was this a dream?
He heard muffled voices he couldn’t make out just yet. What happened just then? What’s going on now?
…
That’s it. The sewer. It was flooding back now. The voices became clearer.
“Anyway, thanks for getting him here! Now you have no excuse to scout that van!”
He recognized that stupid voice. He tried to open his eyes, but everything was black.
“I still do, and it’s this: I don’t fucking want to. I just came here to collect my payment for your last errand. And that would’ve been the end of it until these assclowns decided to follow me.”
Mason wriggled in his seat. He didn’t realize he’d been bound until now. If his hands weren’t tied around the folding chair, he’d be smashing his palm into his face. He couldn’t believe it. The one time he decided to take action, he screwed over himself.
“Mmmhmm, sure! And it looks like they’re waking up now…” A hand reached over his head, and pulled something off. His vision returned to him, and he found himself in a lamp-lit room with Splats (and her usual smug grin) and the two strange men. Another man bound in a chair with a bag over his head struggled in his confinements.
“Heya, Brownie!” Splats said. “Sleep well?”
“Wh… what is this place? Let us go!” Mason demanded.
“Hey, you wanted to come down here and pry in our business,” the white-haired man shot back. “We ain’t just gonna let you run around.”
The bulkier man unblinded Saki next. Under the light his scar was about the same red as his shirt, of which the front read… FRONT. Very original. No use explaining what the back of the shirt read. And it was indigo hair. Very dark indigo.
The captives looked at each other.
“Thanks a lot, Mason.”
“Fuck off, I had to do something.”
“The only thing you did was attract more danger.”
“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t be in this much trouble if your BTS rejects knew how to fight.”
“Softy is for emotional support!”
“How am I supposed to know that?!”
“HEY! We’re having an interrogation, morons!” Splats yelled. “If you wanna keep your tongues, you better tell us what you know. You’re on our turf now, so you play by our rules, capiche?”
She didn’t wait for a response.
“Question One: why did you and your twink friend decide to follow my buddy Kai down here, knowing full well this is our territory?”
“I’m not a twink!” Saki cried.
“And we didn’t know this is your— wait, why are you calling this dump your territory?” Mason said. “We’re still underground, right? Is this where you, like, live or something? Again: How the hell were we supposed to know?!”
“That’s funny, nobody told you yet?” Splats picked some dirt out of her fingernail. “I thought Pearl would’ve overshared everything, like she always does. This is the Underground—nobody’s allowed down here unless I say so.”
“You said you moved your shit back to Canada,” Saki mentioned, which was an entirely new piece of information Mason did not know and probably should have before diving headfirst under a sewer drain.
“Can’t a girl expand her business? Question Two: How did you find Kai in the first place?”
Saki started. “Uh… He wasn’t that hard to run into. He parked right next to us at McDonald’s. We were just having lunch when he pulled up talking about Mason.”
The young woman turned to the white-haired man, whose name was apparently Kai. “You let them eavesdrop you?!”
Kai did not flinch. “Don’t give me any of that. You know nobody goes there these days. Everyone’s all at that Korean joint your ex-girlfriend’s folks opened up.”
“You bring up that bitch one more time and I’ll have Xander make you ex-_alive!”_ The girl snapped. The bulky man gruffed in response, which probably made him Xander, by Mason’s guess.
“Yeah, whatever. Now what do you wanna do with our intruders?” Kai asked her. Blowing over her shallow threat.
Splats barely calmed down in time to give her two cents. “Let’s see… since Brownie’s new here, I guess I’ll give him a pass…” she winked, causing Mason to gag. “As for Saki… Kai what do you think?”
Kai pondered for a bit. “Wait, you said his name was Saki? What’s his last name?”
“…Higashikata?” Saki spoke for himself.
“No way… You wouldn’t happen to be related to Hitoshi Higashikata, would you?”
“Yeah, I’m his brother,” he raised an eyebrow. “where’s this going?”
The white-haired punk kicked the seat of Saki’s chair from below, making him tip over and fall flat on his back with a loud thunk.
“Do you know how much that rat has sabotaged this ring?”
“Ow! B-but he’s a car mechanic!”
“We used to be a whole network before your snitch-ass brother got the police involved two years ago! And now we can’t even meet in larger groups than four! Why do you think we’re moving our shit to Canada?” He turned to Splats. “He’s all yours. Make him do whatever you want.”
The girl smirked. “Gladly! Saki, for trespassing on Underground territory, being related to your bitch of a brother and for dating that Crayola-smelling skank, you’re taking Kai’s job! And you owe his car a free tune-up at your asshole brother’s!”
“What?!” The poor kid writhed in his seat.
“AND, you owe me three hundred dollars!”
“Hey, hey! Hold on, you dicks!” Mason piped up. “He has nothing to do with whatever his brother did! You have no right to-”
“I’d stay out of this, if I were you,” Xander put a hand as big as Mason’s face on his shoulder. “What do you care? You’re off the hook.”
Yes, he was, but Saki sure wasn’t. He didn’t care what his brother did, or how involved he was in some underground gang or amateur crime ring, or however many years back it was, they were punishing the wrong man. He didn’t even know what his own brother was up to! If he was Saki, he’d be furious. Imagine being caught in the middle of something you’ve hated from the start, just to be punished in the aftermath. This was just like in California…
No.
It didn’t have to be.
There had to be something he could do…
I’m so going to regret this…
“Everyone, shut up!” Mason yelled. “Shut the fuck up! God, this is bullshit! You want someone else to take the blame for someone you’re too much of pussies to take on yourselves? You want this scrawny Asian twig to run your little errands for you, huh?”
“Hey!” the scrawny Asian cried.
“If you money-stealing fucks wanna pin this all on some random guy, hell, I’ll do the damn job for you! What is it? Hijacking a bus? Throwing some old dude in a river? Just give me the damn errand and stop harassing this idiot for something he didn’t do!”
The room went silent. They could still hear the Californian’s voice reverberate through the sewer corridors. The light on the lantern flickered. Mason calmed his breaths.
“Mason…” Saki started.
“You said I owe you one? Don’t expect a refund…”
Kai whistled. “Damn. Didn’t know you had that in you. What’s your pitch, Splat? You think the new kid’s got cred?”
She blinked. “Hm… we never had a guy who actually wants slave labor before. Especially not after I stole his groceries.” The girl suddenly grinned. “He’s even more reliable than I thought…”
“What was that?” the boy asked.
“Nothing! You can have the job! Kai will fill you in tomorrow morning! You two can get to know each other on the way there!”
“What! I said I’m not-”
“-Gonna blow your cover on the phone? Mmmhm, you messed up there. Second violation of the week after your little head-squeezing incident with the guy at the laundromat. Do this or you’re out of the ring.”
Kai groaned. “Fuckin’ hell…”
“Also, Saki, your brother still owes a free tune-up.”
“Fair, I guess.”
Splats clapped her hands. “That’s that! Xander, untie the boys. We have a big day tomorrow.”