Page 36 of Ethereally Redeemed

The screen glow reflects in his wide, dilated pupils, but I still cannot make out what exactly it is he’s doing.

Minutes pass, feeling like hours, before he finally turns to a large industrial printer hidden beneath the desk. The machine comes to life with a buzz and hum, its sound echoing through the apartment. Slowly, sheets of paper emerge as the passports take place. When all papers are printed, he binds them together, slipping them into a cover for passports. Then, he applies a holographic sticker to both passports before using UV-reactive ink in the corners, all to make the passports look more legitimate.

Vortex told me this is the person you should go to if you want to disappear, and in this moment, I truly believe him. Relief washes over me at the possibility this gives.

I look around the room as he meticulously works, noticing the guns he has tucked away in a corner, nearly invisible. An idea hits me.

“Can I buy one of those?” I nod toward the weapon.

He raises an eyebrow, taking me in with narrowed eyes. As if deciding I’m worthy of it, he grimly nods. “It’ll come at a hefty price.”

“I’ll take it,” I reply, no hesitation in my words.

A gun could give me the possibility to protect me and Naya better.

Two hours later, and I’m starting to get really fucking bored waiting for the passports. “Are you done soon?”

“If you’re going to fucking complain, you can fuck off and come back in a few days,” he grunts, annoyance filtering through his voice.

I roll my eyes but bite my tongue, waiting for him as he inspects his work and flips through the pages. Reaching out a hand, I get the hint and take out the bundle of money of what he’d charge before he gives me the gun and two passports that hold mine and Naya’s soon to come freedom.

“Take them and fuck off,” he mutters as he lights another cigar.

I pocket the passports, storing them for safe-keeping. I will not let anything happen to those two items, feeling the comfort of their weight on me.

The trek to the underground club is made with light steps. They let me through immediately this time, and there’s no sign of Vortex as I enter the loud basement, where the music pumps through my veins and heightens the adrenaline spiking through me. The crowd is cheering and screaming, betting and losing as they watch the fights take place.

Time seems to fly by as I step into the ring, facing my opponent for the night. We begin slowly, each of us shifting on our toes in silent calculation of who’s going to strike the other first. He swings the first blow, which I quickly block with my arms. The fight becomes a dance of hitting, blocking, and sidestepping, before a punch lands square on my face. Pain radiates through my cheek as I spit out blood, quickly refocusing on my opponent. I kick him in the chest, sending him sprawling, and follow up with a barrage of punches to his face, reveling in his loud groans. He retaliates by swiping my leg out from under me, and I hit my head on the floor with a thud, making the room spin. I scramble back to my feet, ignoring the agony, narrowly dodging his next attack.

A smile breaks out on my lips, as the monster within me findspeace in the bloodshed, pain, and adrenaline.

“What the fuck you smiling at, psycho?” the man shouts, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he looks at me like I’m crazy. I feel like I am, but in this moment, I couldn’t give a single fuck.

This is a game, one I intend to win at every cost because there’s no other way out for us.

My opponent tries to deliver a swift uppercut, but I see it coming, sidestepping as I feel the rush of air from his fist washing over my ear. I counter with a jab to his ribs, the impact reverberating through my knuckles and making my already bruised hands bleed more. The pain is a welcome reprieve.

I pivot on my foot before I drive a hook to his midsection that has him doubling over, the sound of the crowd roaring fading into the background.

I deliver a quick kick to his knee that has him falling to the ground, head hitting the floor with a harder thud than when my head hit it. My breathing is fast and hard as I look at my opponent struggling to get to his feet, and when seconds pass and he doesn’t rise, I know the fight is over. My fists clench and unclench with relief as the referee moves in, and I get the money I’m owed.

Victory is mine.

––––––––

WALKING HOME IS HARDERthan I first thought after such an intense fight. My head throbs, the world spins, and I can’t shake the feeling of being watched, shadows seeming to lurk behind. It feels as if someone is following me.

I keep walking, each step feeling heavier and taking longer than it should as I check my pocket to ensure the passports, gun, and bundle of money I earned are still there. With the passports secured, my next task is to figure out how to take out the manVortex told me to.

It won’t be easy, and I can’t tell Naya, but I have no other choice. Vortex is dangerous, especially if you get on his bad side. The gun might help, but I know it won’t make this job any easier.

I stagger forward, looking over my shoulder, only to see that no one is there. Despite that, the feeling of being watched lingers. As I approach the street stretching far ahead, eventually leading to the abandoned train track, I suddenly stumble and fall to the ground, vision blurring. I cough and glance up, trying to focus on the spinning world above.

Surprise thrums through me as I see Vortex, a sneer etched on his face, flanked by two equally ripped men that I don’t recognize.

“I changed my mind,” he sneers, an evil smirk on his lips that has unease crippling me.

I look at him, unable to form the words to ask what the fuck he’s talking about.

---