"Hey, I didn't know they allowed senior citizens into the party," some ugly imbecile says with snide. I turn to see some guys jacked up on steroids. On the inside, I smile at the fact that use of steroids makes your balls smaller. Also on the inside, I wonder how this party got set up. I mean, Adriano is dead, after all. This is all the killers' work, and if you're the killer and you're reading this: the party is pretty amped.
"I didn't know the mental disability asylum let you guys out for the night," I calmly note, trying to hide my sneer. If I show them that I hate their guts within .0001 seconds of seeing them, then they'll just keep on going. I wouldn't mind showing these guys up, but there are more important things to focus on... i.e. multiple killers.
"Hey Brock," the first guy says to his friend. "The geezer thinks he's funny."
"Hey old man," Brock speaks out, puffing his chest out like a bird. Nonchalantly, I lean on a snack table and sip my beer. "Hey!" he yells, slapping the beer out of my hand, which shatters on the floor. "Duke and I don't appreciate your oldness being here."
Contain your anger, Enzo, my uncle's voice says in the back of my mind. Picture the meadow and the willow tree, little one.
Let. It. Out... Let. It. Out... Let. It. Out... the other side of my chants.
Bottling it up, I grab another beer and pop the top off on the side of the table. "I'm only twenty-two."
As I take a swig, my ring clinks on the glass, grabbing Brock's attention. "Oh, look. He's so old that he's married. Where are your grandchildren?"
"Not around yet," I say through gritted teeth. My jaw clenches and I stuff my free hand into my shorts so the idiots don't see it turn to a fist.
"Awh," Duke says to his partner. "No one likes old guys nowadays."
Now I'm more than aggravated. These guys are just a bunch of drunken and high teenagers whose glory days are on the football field in high school. They'll never go pro and they will most likely end up living with their parents in the attic, where they'll jerk off and grow 5 o'clock shadows.
"Poor little bastard," Brock remarks. "He even looks weak. Sir, do you need an escort out?"
"Look," I start, finishing my beer and placing the empty bottle on the table with measured care. "I recommend you shut your mouth before I shut it for you. Even a monkey would know to leave by now."
"You want a fight, old man?" Duke butts in, smirking at the opportunity to flex his false muscles.
Quaintly, I smile. "I've been looking for a fight for a long time now. I'll give you the first hit; make it a good one."
Brock starts to back up. He's confused about what I've said, and by being even an ounce logical, he knows that anyone giving out free punches means trouble. Duke on the other hand is just plain stupid... and just plain altogether.
He gathers all his strength up by rearing back and taking a deep breath – his startingpunch is way too predictable. While he gets a breath, I deliver a quick jab to his lungs, allhis gathered air disappearing.
"Hey!" Brock yells, swinging for my head.
"'Soup? I taunt.
Now, we've caught the attention of the crowd. I must admit, I don't even bother containing my smile. I haven't gotten into a fight since before World War One. This feels fantastic!
Duke gathers himself after 100 years and makes a football tackle for my waist, knocking both of us to the ground. While Duke is over me, I knee him twice in the balls and punch him off of me. Brock's leg comes in quick for a kick, but I snatch it and yank his own foot out from under him, causing him to fall on the ground. As I stand, Duke sidekicks me – he made a faster recovery than I expected.
Now Brock is back up, too. Duke manages to twist my arms behind my back as Brock starts to punch me while I can't do anything... at the moment. Brusquely, I kick my head back. I feel Duke's nose break. I'm about to take care of Brock next when, out of nowhere, a wily fist comes from the crowd. It collides with Duke's temple. Duke goes down with a thud.
The encircled crowd cheers and hollers as my fellow fighter raises his hands up. "WOO!" he cheers, a giant smile forming under bright eyes. "I've never felt more alive!" The crowd raises solo cups and flasks and bottles to the guy in congratulations.
"You know, I had it under control," I mumble.
"I think I know that more than anyone," Makai states. "But I couldn't let you have all the fun." We both laugh before Makai's eyes widen and he yells, "Duck!" Following his orders, I get low and see I avoided Brock's meaty fist. Standing up, I elbow him in the kidneys, turn to face him with a kick to the upper ribcage, and finish him with a knock-out hook to the head.
"Thanks," I gratify Reyna's brother. "Oh shit, hold still."
Duke manages, though barely, to get up. Stumbling, he goes to tackle Makai. Calmly, I reach over for my empty bottle and chuck it at the kid's head. The crowd gasps for a second when the glass shatters and falls to the ground. Aimlessly, Duke stands with a blank expression. Makai and I exchange a confused glance. Why is he just standing there?
With exaggerated bravado, Makai uses his index finger to poke the football jock. And just like that, he falls; knocked out cold.
There's a silence among the people before a vivacious roar of amusement rips from their throats. "We. Are. LEGENDS!" Makai shouts, throwing his fists in the air. He looks over to me and grabs my wrist. Like a boxing ref, he throws my hand in the air. "Come on, man. This is the only time people will love you for being abusive, so enjoy it."
Realizing he's right, I hold my own fists in the air. I feel a sense of fulfilment somewhere deep inside of me. I was good at sports, but my grades were never high enough to stay in them, so I never had my moment of glory. I never scored the final basket, or earned the winning touchdown, or finished the race with a burst of speed. Aero always got the fanfare with ease – he didn't even have to raise a pinky. But doing what I do best – causing pain – has earned me five gold stars. Where have these people been all my life?
On your list of victims.
Once the fanatic behaviour dies down, I see Reyna. "I see why you didn't teach me how to fight like that," she notes. "I'd have been broken in half."
"Exactly," I acknowledge. "So you get a good look around?"
"Yes. There's one staircase here, the master bedroom overlooks the pool area with a balcony, and there's nowhere to hide outside – there are just plains of grass," she informs.
Childishly, I pat her head. "Good girl."
She scowls at me and fixes the hair that I actually didn't mess up. "Have you kept an eye on the people? Well, other than just now, I mean."
"Sure I have," I answer. Nodding to the bar, I point out Ozzy and Maren. "Those two have been totally infatuated with each other." Next, I nod towards Kellin trying to show Grayson how to dance. "Kellin and Gray did awkward body shots earlier, and now they've brought their awkwardness to the dance floor. And Makai..." Where is Makai?
"Form a net!" one of the kids around here shrieks. For some reason, everyone in the room knows what that means. But I don't. Form a net? What the hell is that? The kids interlock arms until the entire first floor is like a knitted quilt. "We're ready!" that same kid shouts. Then, everyone looks upwards.
"Jesus Christ..." I utter, looking up. Perched on the balcony with an eager look in his let's-die-partying-instead-of-die-being-slashed eyes, is none other than Makai Keanu.
"Makee, what are you doing?" I call.
"Flying, Enzo," he degrades at me as if I should've known.
"Right. Where's my common sense?" I sarcastically spit. Looking down at Rey, I ask,
"Is he always like this?"
"Only at Adriano's parties. It's the only chance he has to be excusably stupid," she jokes, lovingly shaking her head as Makai whoops and leaps from the railing upstairs. The arms overlapping him catch his fall and carry him to the other side.
Another kid gets up on the rail as Makai did, but he's unsure of his actions by the way he dawdles like a moron. "I'm going to jump!" he shouts, leaping. But no one was paying particular attention to him, and before any of us can do anything, he plummets into the snack table.
There's an overall gasp as I go over to check on the kid. "Uh... You good?" I inquire, unsure of what to ask.
Reyna elbows me in the side. "'You good?'" she mocks me. "More like: are you alive?"
With a painting groan, the kid raises an arm. The crowd chews on the ends of their hair and bites their fingernails in anticipation of the verdict. The jumper flashes us a thumbs Up. "Alive," he croaks. "But I need an ambulance."
"Ambulance?" Makai questions. "I'll have Adriano's designated driver take you to the rendezvous point. Will the DD please step forwards?"
The bartender steps forwards and whispers something to Makai. Makee's confident expression morphs into shock and the emotion of oops. "Okay, well..." Makai announces.
"I was the DD... so I'll take you to the point, but I don't know if we'll get there in one piece. Everyone else: light it out back!"
All of this lingo seems so familiar to the kids here, so I assume they're frequent attenders to Rio's bashes. I stop Makai, who picks up the jumper and slings him over his shoulder. "Rendezvous point?"
"We can't call an ambulance here or we all get busted," he explains. "Duh."
"Light it out back?" Reyna further interrogates.
"We've got a couple of illegal fireworks, and fingers crossed that we start a huge fire. Adriano tends to befriend a lot of pyros."
"Wait," I prolong Kai from leaving. "How long will you be gone?"
"Half an hour tops. I'll try to be quick."
Before either his sister or I can say anything, Makai is swallowed into the crowd.
Uneasily, I look down at Reyna, who uneasily looks up at me. "He basically just said he'll be right back," she paraphrases. "Great."
"It could be worse," I offer. "Instead of being friends with a ton of pyromaniacs, he could've been friends with a bunch of psychopaths."
"Hopefully he isn't," she gravely states. "Adriano is still on the suspect table. We all are."
"All of us?" I press.
With a half-smile, Rey looks up with her grey eyes. "Most of us."