A Fool's Coming

Ch. 6 - A Dangerous Encounter

I practically stomp throughout the city, still feeling uneasy about that encounter with Tommy. Even if he was joking, it doesn't take away that he looks kind of similar to Ares—which also means he kind of looks like me .

And also... fuck. Ares. The guy is known to finish all the fights. The odds are stacked against me, but he probably wouldn't think to check the Subs, which is where me and Sally live. Most people think it's the worst of the worst, which it is; there's some good about it, too, however.

I'd say it's the middle class in the lower class ranks. If that makes any fucking sense. Since no one wants to go in that area, it isn't crowded, and shockingly enough, there's not as much trash as there is in the city.

Then, I hear a rhythmical tune play out, one I'm way too used to.

My heart pounds as I ignore the vibrating phone in my pocket. Panic courses through me, fearing it's Sally calling, ready to pick another fight.

But when I glance at the screen, relief washes over me. It's just Alex. And by relief, I mean utter dread. If there's one person I'm more terrified of than Sally, it's Alex.

At least until the last time I ran out on him. Alex is dangerous, calculating, and he'll get the fucking job done; it doesn't matter how close you are to him.

I don't want to talk to him right now. Should I just ignore it? Yeah.

I hesitate, staring at my screen. Or do I want him to know I don't want to talk to him?

With a shaky hand, I swipe the call to ignore. I can almost hear Alex's voice echoing in my head, scolding me for not answering. That's what he does, after all. Scold, berate, and force me into doing things I'm uncomfortable with, like entering the Syndicate's dangerous domain.

I should just go home. I think with a sigh, gods, I'm not walking outside again in a while. I'm sure Sally will be happy about that.

As I continue down the bustling streets, trying to put as much distance between me and potential danger, I see a flash of movement from the corner of my eye.

My heart leaps into my throat as a large glass window from a clothing store about twelve feet before I shatter, shards raining down onto the pavement.

My eyes widen in shock as a figure emerges from the wreckage, the sun glinting off its white mask.

A chill runs down my spine as I take in the sight of the smiling, white-faced figure, a black smiley face drawn onto the mask.

His clothes are basic, though—well, so is his mask. He wears a green hoodie and black jeans. His hair is a dirty blond, and it looks like he spent hours in the morning tending to it.

Goosebumps prickle on my skin, and I feel the tendrils of fear wrapping around my limbs.

The green man scans the area before locking eyes with me, and I can't tear my gaze away.

Fear and fascination hold me in their grip, freezing me to the spot.

Is he a Villain? I think, trembling where I stand, is he a part of the fucking Syndicate? Sent to kill me? Why was he so dramatic about shattering that window, though? Was he fighting?

"My name is Dream, if you didn't already know it. I'm sure you know who I am." I don't. "The hero, you know." I fucking don't.

Panic swells within me, urging me to run, to escape this nightmare. And run, I do. With a jolt of adrenaline, I break into a sprint, my heart pounding like a freight train.