Page 62 of Pointy Ears and Purple Glitter
Malik grappled with Garrison, who was surprisingly strong. They crashed into a shelving unit, sending tools scattering across the concrete floor. Garrison fought dirty, going for Malik’s eyes and throat, but Malik’s superior strength gave him the advantage.
“You think you can hide what you are?” Garrison hissed, managing to land a solid punch to Malik’s ribs. “We’ve been watching you for months. We know what you are!”
“Then you should have been smarter than to challenge me in my own territory,” Malik growled, his voice deepening as his control slipped. He grabbed Garrison by the throat and lifted him off the ground with one hand, pinning him against the wall.
Across the workshop, Tynan was throwing out magic like a candy toss at a parade. His magic created obstacles and distractions - tools suddenly sliding across the floor into a thug’s path, a spray of purple sparks temporarily blinding another. He moved with graceful precision, never directly attacking but making it impossible for Garrison’s men to coordinate or escape.
“Boss, this is messed up!” one of the men shouted, backing away from Tynan. “We didn’t sign up for this sort of bullshit!”
Garrison couldn’t respond, still dangling from Malik’s iron grip. His face was reddening, hands clawing uselessly at Malik’s arm.
Suddenly, the workshop door burst open again. Malik tensed, expecting Garrison’s reinforcements - but instead, Grok strode in with six of his own men, all armed and looking ready for a fight.
“Starting the party without me, Malik?” Grok asked, surveying the scene with an amused expression. “That’s not very neighborly.”
Malik eased his grip on Garrison’s throat just enough to let him breathe. “You’re early. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“Got word Garrison was making a move tonight,” Grok replied, nodding to his men who quickly secured the remaining thugs as Tynan dropped his magical walls. “Thought I’d save you the trouble of cleaning up alone.”
Garrison’s eyes bulged as he looked between Malik and Grok. “You’re working together? You’ve betrayed your own kind to ally with these…these freaks?”
Grok approached slowly, adjusting his expensive cufflinks. “My kind? You mean people?” He laughed, the sound echoing through the workshop. “My kind are businesspeople who respectboundaries and arrangements. You’re the one who’s been disrupting the natural order around here.”
Tynan moved to Malik’s side, his magic still crackling around his fingers, although he was trying to hide it. “What should we do with them?”
Grok gestured to his men. “My associates will take Garrison and his friends for a littleconversationabout territorial respect.” His smile was all teeth. “And tomorrow, Mrs. Cooper will receive some unexpected visitors with very interesting questions about her financial activities.”
“You can’t do this,” Garrison wheezed, still struggling in Malik’s grip. “I have connections, protection…”
“Had,” Grok corrected. “Past tense. Your protection has been revoked.” He patted his breast pocket as he smirked. “Amazing what people will do when faced with evidence of their own corruption.”
Malik finally released Garrison, letting him slump to the floor, where two of Grok’s men immediately secured him. “What happens to him after your little chat?”
“He’ll be strongly encouraged to relocate,” Grok replied. “Somewhere very far away, where his particular brand of prejudice won’t be our problem anymore.”
“And his operation?”
“Dismantled as we speak,” Grok assured him. “My men are visiting his various outposts tonight. By morning, it’ll be like Garrison’s ‘cleansing initiative’ never existed.”
As Grok’s men began removing Garrison and his thugs from the workshop, Tynan’s magic gradually subsided, the purple glow fading from his fingertips. Sparky descended from the rafters, landing on his shoulder.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” the raven commented. “I expected more smashing and crashing.”
“Be grateful it wasn’t worse,” Tynan murmured, leaning slightly against Malik’s solid presence.
Grok lingered after his men had taken Garrison away. “Our arrangement holds,” he said to Malik. “Your territory remains your own, my territory remains mine. But perhaps a bit more communication between us might be beneficial in the future.”
“Agreed,” Malik said, extending his hand. “Thanks for the assistance.”
Grok shook it firmly. “Business is business. Garrison was bad for everyone.” His gaze shifted to Tynan. “You two make a formidable team. More than meets the eye with both of you.”
“You have no idea,” Sparky muttered under his breath.
With a final nod, Grok departed, leaving Malik, Tynan, and Sparky alone in the workshop. The sudden silence felt almost oppressive after the chaos of the fight.
Malik surveyed the damage - tools scattered, a shelf overturned, a small dent in the Mustang’s fender where someone had been thrown against it. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed - again.
“So that’s it?” Tynan asked, sounding almost disappointed. “Garrison’s gone, Mrs. Cooper will be dealt with, and we just...go back to normal?”
