Page 1 of Victorious: Part I

Chapter One

HAVEN

It’s a funny thing.

To know you helped bring down someone that powerful and walked away victorious. Someone who was so corrupt, and yet, so easily manipulated when he thought he had the upper hand.

Governor Bennett Marshall is currently puckering his asshole in a holding cell while he tries to defend the leaked information Loki stole from his computer. We then forwarded it to news outlets in the United States, making it look like Marshall had sent it from his own email account.

We’re cool like that.

But, in our defense, the guy is a fucking creep.

He likes minors a little too much, not to mention he sold his own daughter to The Rojas Cartel just to help boost his political career. This fucker was gunning to be the next Vice President of the United States. I can’t tell you how glad I am that the club, Bea, and I helped take this motherfucker down.

This means tonight, the club is in full celebration mode. A win like this calls for one hell of a damn party, and after expelling all my energy today taking down the Governor and his dickwad cronies, I need some grease to wash down all that macho testosterone they were flinging at me.

As I drive closer toward the heavenly drive-thru, where my salivary glands are practically dancing in excitement with the copious amounts of fried chicken I am about to ingest, I turn up my radio. Bouncing along to Taylor Swift—who isn’t my normal heavy-death-metal go-to—I change the lyrics as I sing along to make it feel more, well,me.

“Karma’snotmy boyfriend,”

“’Cause I amthegod,”

“Karma is the bitch whose name is Haven,”

“Karma’s gonna fuck you up,”

“Aren’t you anxious that for you, time’s up?”

“Slice like butter, karma is a bird,”

“Layered up just right, tongue in the middle,”

“Ears on edge like a layer of fat,”

“Me and karma vibe like that!”

Bursting out laughing at the memory of me dishing up vengeance on one of the Governor’s cronies sends a thrill of excitement through me.

Yeah, karma got him good.

I mean, what was I supposed to do?

The asshole told me I should be in the kitchen making a sandwich. So, I held him down in a chair and made one for him—out of his own body parts—using his ears for bread and his tongue as the filling.

Then, I made him eat it until he choked.

Yeah, T-Swizzle—me and karmadovibe like that!

Smirking at myself as I drive up to the speaker box in the drive-thru, I turn down the volume, cutting out my new hype song, and order a stupid amount of fried chicken and other shit for the club to feast on tonight.

Lord knows my guys can eat!

And honestly, after having some fun myself today, I could demolish the whole damn chicken shop at this point.

I pay, wait a little bit, turn up the music, and sit in the drive-thru lane, bopping away to the random songs the radio station is playing. Eventually, after I’m sure the store had to rapidly start frying extra food to fulfill my order, the cute, pimply teen sticks his head out the window.

“Evening, ma’am, your order’s ready. There are a few bags, though.”

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