Chapter 28: Old Faces

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I wish today it will rain all day

Maybe that will kinda make the pain go away

Trying to forgive you for abandoning me

Praying but I still think I'm an angel away.

Angel away, yeah angel away

Maybe that is why I chase strangers away

They got their guns out aiming at me

But I become Neo when they're aiming at me.

Me, me, me against them

Me against enemies, me against friends

Somehow they both seem to become one

A sea full of sharks and they all smell blood.

They start coming and I start rising

Must be surprising, I'm just amazing

I win, thrive, soar, higher, higher, higher

More fire—

"Oookay that's enough depressing songs for one day and quite frankly, I never was the biggest Nicki Minaj fan," I babble to myself, fiddling awkwardly with radio in the car, one hand still firmly gripping the steering wheel of the car. I find the silence that shortly befalls the car off-putting, yet I really don't fancy the radio being on right no either. Honestly, first world problems here.

My eyes quickly dark to the bar on the left and notice a sign that reads 'Satan's Den' and instantly decide that a few drinks would do me good. After all, if I'm going to go to a bar may as well go to a bar on the bad side of town. Speaking of which, where am I exactly? I think I'm along the outskirts of Oklahoma yet I'm not too sure, and I certainly don't trust those damn GPS', they cause nothing but trouble and misdirection.

Delicately parking the car and securely locking it up, I realize I have induced a few jaws to drop at the new and not supposed to be released yet model of the car and smirk triumphantly, loving the dramatic irony of the situation. What dramatic irony you might ask? Oh, just the fact that I tweaked it myself so if anyone tries to break into it the car instantly blasts an alarm in their eardrums, locks down all the doors and windows and turns itself off. Aren't I just the clever one?

Warily yet exhaustedly shoving the door open, I obtain a few judgmental looks as well as recognisable ones yet dust them off, instantly striding over and taking a seat on the bar stool next to a decent looking middle-aged man with brown hair.

"Shot of whiskey thanks," I exhale loudly, the bartender giving me a single courteous nod before disappearing to collect a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. I notice the man to the right of me shift in his stool, raising the bottle of alcohol to his lips and gulping it down in a few mouthfuls. A shadow over casts his face, yet I can't quite but feel as if he's familiar...

"Here ya go," the bartender announces, placing the glass down and pouring me the shot. Before he can scamper away, I pull out a fifty and place it on the bench, snatching the bottle from his hand and murmuring "Keep the change." Without hesitation, he graciously accepts the money and scurries away, the man to the right of me chuckling deeply, his shoulders slightly moving up and down from the action.

"Lillian Nightshade, of all the places to look none of the super heroes dared try a bar. The vodka here is quite nice by the way, if you should try it," the man somewhat dully suggests, taking an idle sip from another bottle of beer in front of him. I groan over dramatically, exhaustedly expressing "A girl can't go five minutes without trying to be killed, get recognised or receive a pep talk about life from a teenager, can she?"

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