It was already afternoon when we arrived in a city I had never been to before.

The City of Esterience.

An unfamous one.

I silently surveyed the busy streets and its people as we pass by. It only ended when the motorcycle comes to a halt.

We stopped in front of a club.

My helmet clicked off.

This is rural.

Through the years, we always find Marsha Relaine Sovèdar, the welder and expert of swords—in rural places. She keeps moving from place to place. The very last time, we found her in the middle of a strange forest.  A secluded and near to bare wildlife kind of environment. Far from the busy metropolitan. Significantly away from other people.

Constantly, she always live alone. Except the animals hovering around her area. And the strays she keeps on fostering.

I have no constant contact with her so I'd always ask Mark for help whenever I need to meet up with her for my needs. He seems to establish a great connection with her.

We parked the motorcycle just in front of the club. My legs are on immediate pace to pave towards the bouncers to enter the only fancy establishment this city could accomodate. Unlike those professional royal guards, both of the bouncers leered at me. Obviously giving up professionalism for something like me.

Until I felt someone place a jacket on me, holding on to my shoulders for a while.

I am wearing black leather jeans and a white tank top paired with boots. There is nothing wrong with what I am wearing, but these guys— always finding a way to devour people— have something wrong on their minds.

A expensive looking black card with intricate letterings and minimal glossy gold streaks was handed to the bouncers. On a cue, their eyes shifted from engrossed to blank... empty. Near to being robots, their gaze and body firmed like it was programmed. My eyes narrowed on the card, trying to remember something familiar in it. It bought my attention for a while.

Vmitzi.Z.

It ticks something. Like a known surname or a known name or a known brand. I think I saw it. I just couldn't point which...and where...

The guard snappily directed it to a small machine for quick seconds, which seems to me as a scanner. A little light from above blinked gold, and it urged the bouncers to move on the sides. Gaze consistently out of us.

Mark, without leaving my shoulders empty, redeemed the card and the bouncers made way for us to enter.

My brows crooked a bit at the transaction. Something is going on.

I was the first one to enter the club, and I notice how they purposely made the place dim so that whatever time you enter, the club can be equally accommodating. I stood up before the sea of people. The scene is like the usual setup of an upscale cosmopolitan bar so I am not fully shocked to see some stripping and whatsoever happening here.

And it wasn't like I'm innocent to not know these things. I was left to survive and explore alone. I became aware of what's really happening and what's not. No filter, no white lies about life.

I guess being able to see the real world at a young age, stripped by the princesses and damsel in distress tales, is a huge contributor to what I am today.

This is a high-end bar. I can easily tell that as I roam my eyes on its interiors, machines, and means. The smell. Its ambiance. Its people.

"Isn't he..."

"Who's the girl? You said he is a bachelor!"

"Well, last night I saw him took one of this club's girl out, so how can he be not one? I doubt her woman would even let him touch someone's hand! If I am his girlfriend I won't even allow anyone's skin on him!"

"Oh don't you know men could work things out when they really wanted to do such? You got to be kidding me,"

"I was here last night too, I doubt it was her who he took out," another woman interfered with conviction.

"What do you mean?"

The conversation went off as they get drowned by some entering rowdy crowd.

Mark is a regular here, that's what I am certain at.

"What's this club? They have what here?"

I felt Mark towering more on my parameter. Guarding me in a more vigilant stance. "Guys loving your kind,"

I roamed my eyes more. That's not the answer I wanted to hear. Besides the usual celebrating and mourning people, something is definitely happening here...

The watches of people are different. The way a group from a far table behave is expensive... yet peculiar. And how in some certain parts of the bar, the mood is heavier and darker.

Something more than a gangster or fraternity- sorrority field.

Mark steps a bit of me whenever someone tries to get his way to me. I threw him my usual orbs when he calmly squared up on a group of equally intimidating men on our way. The women with them instantly locked their eyes on me. The tension became pronounced as we walked towards the way where they are.

We should pass by them before getting into the our destination. One quick glance at the group was all it takes before I nonchalantly passed by the amused middleman that is blocking my way.

"You got the guts.."  a controlled voice of a woman reached my ears. Not appalled on her business with me, I mindlessly walked on the sea of self-proclaimed dancers on the dancefloor.

A head tilt on my behind and a hand was already aiming for my hair.

I caught it.

The wrist of an expensive woman is on my mercy now. I locked my eyes at her and tightened my hold more when she tried to pull it out.

"You don't know who you are messing-"

On a swift hair ruffle the mafia's name showed between the space of my left ear and the grown hairs.

My eyes twitched maniacally at her obvious stutter.

The ink quickly transformed a tigress to a submissive cat.

Too much for sample testing its power.

Seems like the mafia reached the vastness of the world. To think that this is a rural area already and yet this ink was easily recognized... What an intensity.

I walked past her, and the redness of her wrist did't escape everyone's peripheral.

"What? Why didn't you take it into her-"

"Let's just go"

"Greta what?"

"We can't touch her!"

Their voices were then drowned by the loud booming music. I am trailing the busy dancefloor when a persistent drunk man in his 40's appeared in front of me with a malicious smile.

I can feel Mark reaching out steps because of his little delay back there, and in a minute he succeeded to keep up.

Mark towered behind me again but the man is consistent in showcasing himself to me, blindly seeing the scowling man after me. Obviously very very drunk. He is still not opening his mouth, but I can already smell alcohol in him.

I ignored him continuously until I sensed his hand advance, planning to grope me on my butt, but before he can even lay skin on me or even before Mark move to attack him, I already grabbed and twisted his hand making him shout in pain.

The dancing crowd was alerted by the commotion for minutes, but not too long. Some remained watching us, but most of the drunks continued dancing as the music boomed louder.

I continued twisting his hand until Mark pushed him down, out of my hold.

"You should be more careful with your hands or they'll be cut off," I warned before leaving him whimpering in pain on the floor.

I kept my watch on the area as I stroll around with my usual senseless expression. Ignoring anyone looking my way. Probably effortlessly discouraging their guts out.

"What room is she in?" I asked Mark because we were down in the alley of VVIP rooms.

"Room 37," he said, more strict in his patrol duty now.

We passed few more rooms before I twisted the knob to open the said room, uninvited. The woman is sitting alone in the wide room, watching on a 60 inches television. In front of her is a bottle of alcohol that is almost full still. She lazily turned her gaze towards us. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment before it proceeded on the person at my back. Her lips curved realizing something about the person at my back.

"Oh, it's the two of you," she greeted us, swiftly crossing her legs as soon as we enter.

Mark stepped forward first and hopped in at the left side of the U-shaped sofa. I suited myself on the right side, making Marsha the center.

"Come. Take a shot with me," she said, before reaching something under the table. Her long wavy red hair fell freely on her waist as she bends more, only to place two more glasses on the table.

That was certainly for us. I am not up for an early-drinking session though. So unfortunate.

She is wearing a leather skirt matched with a skintone tube top so her bending revealed some of her chest.

I moved my eye a bit when I noticed something. A little spark materialized on eyes at the obvious atmosphere.

None of us made a noise except from the television playing in front. Watching a documentary in a bar? That's so out of place. Well, if that's what she wants.

She was finally done pouring alcohol on the two glasses she added, not pouring any bit on her seemingly untouched glass, when she called for a toast.

"Cheers?"

She raised her glass at us with a lurking smile on her lips and Mark drank with her, while I let my glass sit on where it was placed, with no intention to empty it.

I watch the two of them finish the shot before I started talking. Impatient of the waste of time.

"I need your help with my swords." I started to break the silence in here.

She lifted her eyes on me casually after she placed the glass back on the table.

"And I'll probably add a gun…I'll give you a call when I need it," I added.

"The last time we made a transaction for swords was like 3 years ago..." her eyes wandered for a second before she continued, renewing the crossing of her legs.

I watch how her eyes turned so interested in me.

It was too easy to read her. Them. Their unguarded eyes can make me read what's on their mind.

"I am sure I made those swords sharp and perfect when you said you need them to protect yourself from something or someone. Did it lose its sharpness, or… did your intention of using it changed?" she asked, passionately watching my expression.

The usual setup whenever we see each other.

"In need of chasing," I replied cooly.

We both stared at each other's eyes— her to confirm something and me to show her nothing.

She is always curious about me, every single time we meet up like this. Like something is flaring inside her whenever she tries to guess my mystery.

I maintained the same expression shielding myself from those persistent purple orbs.

"This room is unexpectedly bright don't you think?" Mark inserted out of topic which Marsha and I, ignored effortlessly.

I only roamed my eyes on the room and noticed how Mark is correct about how this room has more light compared to any part of the club.

She was indeed fond of bright places.

That is something I've noticed too everytime our paths meet. She may be always in rural places, but the places she stayed were never dark.

I am thinking what made her love the light so much and why I... love being isolated in the dark too much?

I looked at her.

Differences.

And different reasons.

Those reasons were something the person needs to keep just by herself.

And I am certain with myself that it wasn't my responsibility to make people understand the reasons I have- especially because I understand those more by myself. Besides, they are not genuinely trying to understand it, so I'd rather keep it to myself.

I've sensed someone being aggravated as he straightened up in his seat and move his neck to the side because he was completely ignored. Not by one but two.

I stood up, placing my card on the table. This is a done talk. I've stated what I wanted.

"Just call me up when you were to visit the house," I finally stated to determine the end of my agenda.

I removed the jacket on me and threw it back at Mark. "I am not cold."

Mark threw me glaring eyes back.

I turned my back at them to walk away when she interrupted me in the middle of my steps.

"And what if I don't wanna go?"

You bet.

I continued walking away disregarding her. I advance for the door and it closed it as I leave.

I know she'll come.

My phone beep and I tore my eyes off it when I read who the text is from.

The club is more crowded now but I still insist to walk in the midst of it. The music, the dancing, those drunkards, and the lights landing on my face didn't bother me as I fix my eyes on the door. I can feel lots of breathing on my skin and I was so sure the smell of alcohol is now penetrating on my skin.

I am swiftly dodging anyone trying to touch me and interested in me until another group of guys blocks my way when I am near the exit door.

Of course, I cannot escape these kinds of encounters.

I mentally counted on my mind.

"Where is your boyfriend Miss? Did he leave to take another girl at home?" one teased me, making his companions laugh. I recognized the smell of alcohol and cigarette from his mouth.

I eyed him boredly, not finding humor in it. What's with these maniacs laughing when there is nothing to laugh about?

I always encounter these kinds. Ones with dirty minds and intentions. And they are always keen to laugh together with each other. Doesn't that make them a group of laughing morons?

As soon as he turns on me, with his lips painted with a smile from their laugh, he tried to grab me to push on the wall but I already anticipated it so instead of letting him hold me, I manage to duck on his reach and place myself on the wall, the way he wanted, but with his hand not touching any of me.

That move from me amused him more than ever.

He turned to his group again and smiled like an idiot this time. Making his members smile wide too.

This is a sick practice I've been so sick of. They always laugh and smile in unison. It's fucking irritating. Very unnecessary and cliche.

Feeling that someone else is watching me, my eyes wandered on the busy second floor. And yes... there is someone keenly watching me right now.

A tall, rough-looking man with stubbles and all the manly hairs in place, dominated the upper floor. His tan complexion highlighted him among the light-skinned gentleman he is with. He is wearing a business suit and I felt like he has been watching me for a while. He raised a brow at me. Smirk gradually creeping on his lips.

However, my focus turned back on the situation I am in when the alcohol in the guy's breath registered more as he leans closer to me.

"Feisty," he breathed near my ears.

The patience that's stopping him to hold me vanished as he watched my consistent not-bothered expression. He was about to hold me on my waist but I was quick to hit him with my knee, down there. Hard.

"Your feisty, " I corrected, mimicking his description of me earlier.

He instantly kneeled down, soothing it.

I stared entertained, watching him ache.

His other three friends came to attack me then. The two caught me by my arms but I used my free palms and fingers to squeeze their bisceps muscles hard. As soon as they lose their tight hold on both of my arms, I used the wall behind to do a backflip.

I kicked the other one in his face savagely and he was pushed to the attending bouncers. The two faced me again. I made a quick dock when they tried to capture my upper body. I kicked both of their knees and I heard something crack.

I was just not sure whether it's from the guy 1 or guy 2.

Maybe both?

I casually fixed the now crumpled part of my jeans and monitored the surroundings. There were too many eyes watching me now. Tss, why am I always bringing a fine deal show?

I only sported my usual expression on them. I didn't make an effort to look back on the group, so the bouncers did me a favor when they moved on the side as I exit by the door quietly.

It is still 5:46 pm but the outside looks like it's already past 6. The darkness seemed to conquer the day fast.

I roamed my eyes on the busy streets and it seems like some of its establishments are getting ready for the night. Lights on the streets quickly opened. As well as the stores lights.

And the club was gathering more and more guests. This must be the popular bar in the city.

I walked a bit until I reached my motorcycle. I reach for my phone and navigated it to open the message.

Mark:

Call me when you are home.

I typed a reply immediately.

Me:

I'm home.

I am climbing up my motorcycle when my phone beeped again for a text.

Mark:

You are so stubborn, Roxinne!

I stretch my lips to let a little grin escape as I remembering something earlier.

Me:

Polish your actions, dickhead

Mark:

What?

I rolled my eyes at his last reply. He better not confuse a nuisance.

Mark:

Call me when you are home. For real. Avoid getting in trouble. Go home.

Which I replied back with an eggplant emoji.

Being both stubborn, I wonder why we aren't getting tired of each other over the years.

Perhaps friendship.

Mark:

Please drive safely and call me when you arrive.

I turned off my phone and opened my lights. I didn't reply to him. I'm sure he already saw that I have seen his message.

Instead, I returned my eyes to the second floor of the club where the man is at earlier. There he is, very amused of something while playing the alcohol in his glass. Our eyes immediately met when he lifted his eyes out of it and gazed down to the glass window. His eyes darkened with a glint of something... like pleasure and mirth as he finally notice my gaze on him.

He waved his phone at me before he drank all his alcohol up.

I tore my eyes at him.

Is he my killer this time? But if he is, why is he only standing right there waving his phone at me?

Should be a gun.

Does he mean he already informed his boss?

Bring. It. On.

I am not scared.

I've been waiting all my life to meet that person face-to-face again.

I inspected the place for possible danger but within minutes of staying, none happened. So I drove out of the place for a long ride again.