Sitting dateless at a bar was not an ideal Friday night for C.J. Brown. He’d been dragged to go out with his friend after another crushing rejection. Clutching his glass tightly, he couldn’t help but remember Roundhouses’ words.
“Dude come on! Chill out! It’s not the end of the world! Come out and grab a drink, relax a little!”.
Heh.
One drink swiftly became six, and by now the feeling of lightheaded inebriation was getting to him.
Fuck.
He quietly thanked god for the foresight to have called a ride. Due to the location of the bar on the corners of Naples and Cranbrook and it’s limited parking, their driver was slated to meet them about five minutes away.
All things considered, it wasn’t the worst. Now to just find Roundhou-
“C.J.! My man!”
Well there he was. C.J. Cringed as an arm snaked around his shoulders and alcohol tainted breath assaulted his nostrils. Letting out a slightly frustrated sigh, he glanced over at his friend.
“Our ride’s on the way. They’ll be here soon” stated C.J., his dejection readily visible to Roundhouses’ concerned gaze.
“I told you bro! Relax! This right here is what it’s all about! You find a lady friend?”
Snorting in amusement, C.J. quickly downed the last of his drink. His demeanor shifted to one of remorse. He looked his friend up and down.
Brown eyes radiating warmth, tall and lean, yet still somewhat muscular, a perfect smile complemented by caramel skin and dreadlocks. This man had it all.
Life just wasn’t fair sometimes.
“I tried, but it turns out women aren’t interested in twenty four year old men that work at Buster’s Bacon Shack for minimum wage. It also turns out women generally don’t go for pudgy black guys who aren’t tall or great looking. Who knew?”
Snorting in derision, he forlornly returned to nursing his drink.
Despite his drunken state, Roundhouse took in his friends disheveled appearance. Even he knew when to call it quits on a gag. Removing his arm from C.J.’s shoulder, he opted for a more placid approach.
“Man, you can’t let your position turn you into such a drag. It will get better. I swear!”
Roundhouse waited for a reply, though much to his dismay one had yet to come. As he turned to grab another drink, a forlorn voice reached his ears.
“When?”
The silence that followed tore through the blaring music that echoed in the club. Roundhouse decided to change the subject.
“Well, you said our ride’s coming soon. Let’s bail yeah?”
“Yeah...Sure.”
Walking out of the club gave way to the crisp night air, something C.J. was grateful for as he half heartedly listened to Roundhouse. He was passionately talking about how he would get into art school, and how his art would be seen by the masses.
Truth be told, C.J. wasn’tsure if he even believed his friends ambition would ever see the light of day, but there was a certain fondness in seeing that his friend had not become cynical enough to forgo his dreams. He still didn’t have it in him to focus on the fast paced monologue of his friend though.
Instead, he opted to listen to to the errant sounds of the city. The honking of horns and the rumbling of motors, all backed by the mellow night’s breeze.
It may not have been the most peaceful to some, but he loved it all the same.
“C.J.!”
Roundhouses’ harsh whisper cut through the melancholy air.
“What?”
“Look man!”
Down a nearby ally, a man pressed up against a woman, her muffled cries echoed off of the brick walls.
“Holy shit!”
C.J. glanced over to Roundhouse, desperate to know who said it first. A thousand thoughts ran through his head before he reached his decision. He reached into his pocket pulling out his phone.
“What are you doing?!”
“I’m calling the cops. This is beyond us man!”
“No it isn’t! She’s right there! We can help her! Also, you know how the cops work. We aren’t seeing those niggas for like an hour!”
“Oh really? And what if she doesn’t want to be saved? What if she gets pissed? What if we get blamed by proxy for even jumping in? I’m not trying to catch a case for some bitch I don’t even know!”
Roundhouse looked back into the alley. The muffled cries pierced through the sounds of the city as her struggle became apparently more violent.
“C.J. we gotta help her!” whispered Roundhouse, frustration bleeding into his voice. A firm hand clamping over his mouth was his only response.
“Not until we can at least assess this a bit more!” snarled C.J.
As C.J. released his grip, the two caught each other’s gaze, a silent conversation spoken through a glance. Roundhouses’ smirk spoke for him.
“Bro...chill!” hissed C.J.. He’d already known what was about to happen, but damn it if he wasn’t going to try stopping it!
“I mean, you wouldn’t leave your homie to fight that guy alone right? So I guess if I jump in, you’d help?”
“Wait!”
With no hesitation, Roundhouse dashed into the alleyway followed by an increasingly irate C.J..
The assailant slowly turned towards the noise, only to be met with a fist to the face. He folded to the ground clutching his broken nose, blood spattering across the the battered pavement. While Roundhouse made to follow up on his assault, C.J. stood frozen in abject terror.
“What’s her status man?”, asked Roundhouse, who delivered one final kick to the now unconscious man. He looked over to see C.J. standing stock still.
He let out a sigh.
Honestly! He knew C.J. was bad with women, but this was damn near embarrassing.
Meanwhile, C.J. took in her appearance. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This entire time, he thought the moonlight was playing tricks on him.
He blinked once.
Twice.
She was still there!
Maybe the alcohol was throwing him off and making him see shit that just wasn’t there.
This girl wasn’t obscured by the shadows in the alleyway.
She was the shadow in the alleyway!
Wisps of darkness whipped and swirled around her, cloaking her in shade, her petite form doing nothing to calm him down. Her pink luminescent eyes stared into the reaches of his soul, searching for something.
Looking at her sinister smile, he was unwilling to discover what that “something” was.
Her hands reached out, delicately placed upon his chest as she still gazed into his eyes. Turning his head slightly, he saw Roundhouse, sprawled out on the floor akin to a puppet with cut strings.
Damn!
“I smelled you.”
Cursing once more in his head for good measure, C.J. strained to look back at the girl.
‘Seriously!? You say one thing and it’s that creepy shit?!’
His thoughts were interrupted as she stepped forward, gently resting her head on his chest.
“I smelled you. And now...I have you. Though...you made it easy. You’re really no fun at all.”
‘So we got baited here?!’ seethed C.J. as he watched shadows begin to spread across his hoodie. The wisps of darkness intermingling with the fabric as it turned the once yellow fabric to a midnight black.
He watched as the last of the cloth was changed, before a hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look down. Her eyes, still locked in the same amused gaze had apparently found what she was searching for.
“C.J.. Don’t bore me.”
That had happened well over a week ago. The police were called to investigate a group of suspicious men in an alleyway, only to find three unconscious men with way too much alcohol in their systems.
C.J. cringed as he remembered his interactions with the cops once he awoke.
‘I’m telling you! She was a shadow! And she had pink eyes!’
‘Alright buddy relax. I know you think you saw that, but it was probably just the booze hitting you a little too hard’ came the amused voice of an officer. C.J. couldn’t even see the guy from his cell, but he already knew he hated him.
'Look, I’m not playing! She baited us into the alley and turned my hoodie black!’
Raucous laughter filled the other room as the cops listened to him rant in the adjacent cell.
Breaking out of his thoughts, C.J. huffed in frustration. It’d been over a week, and he couldn’t even get his own granny to believe him! To make matters worse, he was pretty sure someone was fucking with him. He’d tried trashing it multiple times, but it always came back somehow.
Thinking of the hoodie, he glared at it with open disdain as it lay on his unkempt bed. With an aggravated huff, he glanced over at the clock resting on his nightstand.
‘Eleven o’ clock! Since when?!’
He wasn’t sure where the time had even gone. He’d been sitting there for too long. Honestly, getting some sleep would be more beneficial.
Turning off the lamp on his desk, he slid beneath the covers while absentmindedly kicking the hoodie off of his bed.
Sleep first, questions later.
‘I’ll talk to Roundhouse tomorrow about it again’, were his last conscious thoughts as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.
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A sharp slap pierced the stagnant air.
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Clutching his now sore cheek, C.J. scrambled out of his bed. His cloudy eyes frantically scanned the room in search of his assailant, only to stop on a hefty figure standing next to his bed.
Oh no.
“Mhmmm that’s what happens! Ain’t having no grown ass man sleeping till’ no twelve in the pm. Hell no! Get your lazy ass up out of here!”
“Granny O please! It’s a Saturday!”
Granny O remained unmoved. She’d always had an air of authority, standing at an impressive height of six feet. Her domineering height was matched only by her sheer mass. The combination of her size with the bits of icy emeralds she called eyes led to a very imposing figure.
An imposing figure that was currently leering at C.J. with more force than was really necessary.
“I don’t give a damn what day it is!”
“But Granny-”
“But nothing! Now clean up this room!”
C.J. carefully looked around the room, silently admitting to himself that maybe his room was just a little messy. An unmade bed complimented by an overflowing trash can, garnished with an assortment of clothes strewn across the floor.
Well shit.
With a frustrated sigh, C.J. began to pick up his clothes idly noting that Granny O had left the room.
He had barely begun to pick up a shirt when the midnight hoodie caught his eye. Sparing a quick glance to the now empty hallway, he swiftly shut his door and grabbed the hoodie.
‘I don’t get it! It’s so...normal! Maybe...maybe I did imagine it…’
Not only was the hoodie normal, but an entire week had passed by with nothing out of the ordinary happening. If something was going to get him, wouldn’t it have happened by now?
He thought back to a disbelieving Roundhouse and Granny O, alongside he laughter of the arrogant cop and felt himself flush in embarrassment.
He must have looked like a goddamn idiot!
Thinking more about the situation, it actually began to become funny! Three drunk guys pass out in an alley, and he honestly found that strange?! He’d seen stranger things in the Buster’s Bacon Shack ballpit!
“Oh man, I honestly can’t believe I was tripping over that. I can’t believe I didn’t wear this thing for a week! Damn that’s sad.” spoke an amused C.J. as he slipped the hoodie on.
Honestly. Scared of a hoodie and a drunken nightmare.
Ha!
Glancing around the still messy room, he quickly came to the conclusion that he would rather gargle sand than clean right now. Cleaning on such a nice day would have been damn near heretical.
‘Eh, guess I’ll go bother Roundhouse.'
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Roundhouse was not having a great morning. Waking up to shouting and shattering glass was not an ideal way to wake up, but in a way he was used to that already. The problem arose when shortly after, heavy footsteps echoed up the stairwell. Roundhouse mentally braced himself as his mother stormed into his room.
He did his best to remain as apathetic as possible as his mother cursed and raged about yet another man leaving. He didn’t really hear much oh what she was saying, instead opting to retreat into his mind; his stoic facade only cracking as he moved to dodge an empty bottle aimed at his head.
He barely withheld a sigh as his still aggravated mother slammed his bedroom door. With her heavy footfalls growing more and more distant, Roundhouse finally let his shoulders sag as he turned to inspect the damage.
Protruding from the wall was the neck of the bottle, with the rest hidden by a darkness and a flap of broken drywall.
‘Thank god that didn’t break’ he mused, as he grabbed the bottle, absentmindedly turning it over in his hands. As he moved to toss the bottle into the trash, he noticed his phone vibrate. Checking it, he saw that he had a new message from C.J..
[I’m outside if you wanna kick it :^)]
As his eyes glanced over the message a second time, he decided that maybe getting out for some air would do him some good.
For the first time that morning, Roundhouse smiled.
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“Dude, I told you you were good last week. You really just came to that conclusion today?”
“Fuck you man! I thought I was gonna get got!”
Roundhouse glanced away from the screen to look at the black hoodie. Snorting in amusement, he turned back to his game, his fingers frantically pressing the greasy buttons of the machine.
“Yeah, yeah. I mean, it’s funny now, but at the time…”
Crossing his arms in mock defiance, he took Roundhouses’ laughter in stride. It really was funny thinking back on it, but did he have to be such a dick about it?
“Aww man!” cried Roundhouse as he slumped over the arcade machine.
Glancing over to the screen, C.J. quickly realized what caused the outburst.
~Scoreboard~
1. V: 19,985,000,078
2. V: 18,639,044,578
3. V: 17,340,175,937
4. V: 16,940,579,032
5. V: 16,328,981,253
6. V: 12,646,267,509
7. Roundhouse: 981,650
8. Roman: 722,123
9. Amile: 450, 745
10. Melody: 300, 247
Letting out an appreciative whistle C.J. looked back to Roundhouses’ downed form. C.J. couldn’t even blame him that much if he was being honest. They’d been coming to The Point for the past seven years, and Sharpshooter Syndrome had been Roundhouses’ best game for as long as he could remember. He’d most likely been expecting another easy-
“That nigga is cheating! Nineteen-Billion?! Fuck that! It’s impossible!”
Fighting the incredibly tempting urge to call Roundhouse out for being a sore loser, C.J. readily admitted to himself that nineteen billion was a bit too much to be natural. Whoever got that kind of score was either a goddamn savant or a cheater.
Still, it was always funny to see his usually laid back friend become so worked up. Especially over a game.
Glancing back over to Roundhouse, C.J. noticed that the glow that illuminated his friends’ once frustrated face, gave way to his now determined look.
‘Well, looks like we’re gonna be here a whi-‘
His thoughts were interrupted as an icy hand gripped his neck. Turning frantically to address the cold hand, he blanched. Only the full arcade met his gaze, as he sporadically turned, trying to find the person gripping his neck. With every turn, the ice seemed to only get colder, biting into his skin! Reaching a shaky hand back towards his neck, he noted how warm his flesh still felt.
Roundhouse having noticed his friends distress, had paused his game and was looking at C.J., confusion evident in his gaze.
“You feeling alright dude?” asked Roundhouse, as he watched his friend become more and more sporadic.
C.J. barely heard him as he continued to swivel. He couldn’t quite place where it was coming from, but something was dangerously wrong. As if responding to his unspoken acknowledgment, the icy feeling seemed to almost direct him, guiding his panicked gaze to the front door of the scarcely lit arcade.
Time seemed to slow as a sudden rush of depth and clarity filled C.J.’s vision. Not only was he suddenly able to see in the dark, it was as if everyone and everything had slowed to a crawl!
Not only that, but he could hear everything! He heard the subtle flow of the water from the bathroom near the back, the gentle hum of the air conditioning, and the telltale sound of someone reloading a shotgun.
Oh...OH!
Pivoting on his heel, C.J. tackled a still bewildered Roundhouse to the floor as the sounds of shattering glass and gunfire tore through the once docile arcade. Pulling Roundhouse behind the console, C.J. watched as three women stepped through the now destroyed door.
Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but wonder what the point of breaking the door was. Honestly, they could have just walked in.
“What the fuck Swae?” spoke one of the women as she stepped over a particularly large piece of broken glass, “We could have just walked in. It was a door?”
“It was a door” mocked the now named Swae. She was a rather small girl now that C.J. really looked at it. Hell, they were all small! Idly wondering if getting his shit kicked in by women a head smaller than him would become a regular occurrence, he took the moment to get a better look at them.
Black heels, dark nylon stockings, black pencil skirts and white button ups made these girls more akin to secretary’s than anything. Alongside their glowing pink eyes and their hair done up in perfectly coiffed buns, they really - wait…
Pink eyes?
“And I say fuck the door! We came in here to get paid and test out our new toys, so I really don’t see why you’re so hung up on the damn door!”
C.J. snapped out of his thoughts in time to watch the diminutive girl stomp over to the arcade counter while her other two sisters shook their heads in exasperation. Honestly, he couldn’t blame them. Shooting the door was just unnecessary in his humble opinion.
Glancing towards the exit at the back of the room, he contemplated their chances of making a break for it. Looking down towards Roundhouse for confirmation, he noticed how intensely Roundhouse was focused on the situation. His gaze was locked firmly on Swae as she approached the counter.
Despite his better judgement, C.J. found himself hard pressed to look away.
“Hey buddy, friend, chum of mine! I’m looking for someone and was told they would be here? You think you may be able to help me out?” crooned Swae, as the distraught man broke out into a sweat. He warily eyed the shotgun that was now level with his stomach.
“W-who? I don’t know who-,”
BLAM!
A morose silence blanketed the room as the shotgun created a bloody mural where the unknown worker once stood.
‘Alright fuck this! We gotta make a break for it!’ thought C.J. as he moved to stand. Unbeknownst to him, he wasn’t the only one with the notion of escaping. A girl that could have been no older than seventeen, made an attempt slightly before he could. She sprinted straight for the back exit, her blonde hair bouncing erratically as she made her way towards freedom.
Her attempt bore fruit in the form of a loud crack and a shattered skull.
“Excellent shot Ember.” spoke the woman in the middle, as the now named Ember disposed of her still smoking rifle in a plume of black smoke.
“Hmm” replied the stoic Ember as Swae sauntered back to the group.
“Ehhh, I’d give it like a five out of ten. Honestly Jade, it was a straight shot. It wasn’t that impressive.” Spoke Swae in her still upbeat tone as Jade sighed. Her sister could be quite a handful at times.
A raised eyebrow was Ember’s only response as Swae turned to address the rest of the arcade.
“We were told to find The Hood, and we were told he would be here. If anyone is hiding him, we’d love if you could just hand him over! We’d really, reeeeaaaalllyyy rather not just kill everyone to make sure we got him~!”
Something in her voice told C.J. she had absolutely no qualms about killing everyone if she had to. Before he could formulate a plan for them to escape, he heard it.
A damning phrase uttered by his supposed brother in arms.
“Fuck you.”
C.J. balked as he looked over at a livid Roundhouse. Roundhouse stared at the three sisters, steel in his gaze even as Swae brandished her shotgun.
“Ooohhh, our first volunteer! Do you know where The Hood is? We were told he’d be wearing a black hoodie and have glowing yellow eyes. Eyes like fire they said!”
“Why the hell would you do that?! They didn’t do anything, and you still killed them! For no goddamn reason! Why?!” raged Roundhouse, undaunted as Swae began stalking towards him.
“What gave you the right to-”
C.J. shook as he watched Roundhouse be hit with a vicious haymaker. Looking around, he desperately hoped that someone would do something. He watched helplessly as Roundhouse toppled to the floor, his panicked breaths being the only sound to reach his ears.
‘Calm Down! Relax!’
Letting out a steady breath, C.J. absentmindedly pulled his hood over his sweat ridden head. While he knew it wouldn’t do anything to protect him, he still relished the slight sense of comfort it provided.
As Swae sauntered over to Roundhouses’ still form, C.J. weighed his options. The back door was a no go. He’d seen that sniper handle the last one that tried to book it, and there’s no way in hell he was gonna risk that.
He also needed to save Roundhouse!
Eying Swae as she stepped over to Roundhouse, he figured he’d have around ten minutes of monologue before she put Roundhouse down. He could figure something out in that time easy!
“I guess you don’t know where The Hood is either, huh cutie?” dejectedly asked Swae as she stepped on Roundhouses’ back.
“No...I don’t. I don’t think anyone in here does. What kind of name is “The Hood” anyway?” slurred Roundhouse, still disoriented from the powerful punch he’d been struck by earlier.
“I dunno~. Truth be told they just told us he’d be a guy wearing a hoodie with glowing eyes. I just felt that giving him a name would be cooler! I can’t just bust in asking “where’s the hooded guy?”. That’s lame!”
As she spoke and reloaded her shotgun, C.J. blanched. No monologue?!
Ok, new plan.
Barely a second later, a shrill scream echoed through the arcade. Blood spilled from the stump where Swae’s arm was once attached. It pooled on the floor as she howled and clutched her now bloody shoulder in pain. She turned to see what had happened and froze as she saw the figure.
His brown pants and gray shoes were normal enough, but his charcoal hoodie gave him away. As he turned to survey the damage he had done, she saw it. A face comprised of shadows and torchlit eyes that betrayed a hidden malice she could barely comprehend.
As she steadily got more and more dizzy, she felt a pair of hands grab her and pull her away. She barely registered as the arms cradled her closely and began moving her towards the exit. She’d tried opening her mouth to speak, only for a hand to come down a gently silence her.
Glancing up, she watched as Jade tried her hardest to keep her composure as she hauled her to the exit, only to look back and see Ember grabbing her arm and her shotgun before sprinting for the exit.
Looking back for a final time as she was carefully shuffled into the matted black truck that awaited them outside, she couldn’t help but chuckle. As she gazed into those baleful yellow eyes, the irony was too obvious to ignore.
‘We were sent to kill a killer. That’s fucking hilarious!’
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C.J. stood there in mute horror as he watched Swae’s arm go flying. He’d gotten desperate and meant to tackle her, but instead he somehow ended up ripping off her arm in the process.
‘How did that even happen?!’
As he tried to quell his growing discomfort at the feeling of warm blood on his shoulder, he watched as one of the sisters grabbed her as the other grabbed the disembodied arm.
‘That’s straight nasty yo! Eww! At Least wear gloves or something!’ thought C.J. as he watched them peel out of the arcade, pile into a van, and speed off with barely a glance back.
The one exception being Swae, who seemed to do nothing but stare him in the eyes, a look of abject terror laced with excitement etched into her face. Feeling the adrenaline leave his body, he began to look around.
Dozens of cell phones recorded his every move as the frightened hostages attempted to capture every minute of this impossible event.
‘It’s cool. Act normally. No pressure. No sweat.’ he nervously mused as he stepped over to a stunned Roundhouse.
“Let’s dip man” spoke C.J. as he picked Roundhouse with surprisingly little difficulty. Looking around the arcade one last time as the camera flashes assaulted his vision, he bolted out of the shattered front door, bursting into a stream of smoke.
C.J. flew down the streets, weaving between the familiar back alleyways as he made his way home. He’d felt Roundhouse tense up for nearly the entire trip, and he really wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt. His first instinct was to take Roundhouse to the hospital, but with their current financial situation…
No, it was definitely better to take him home so he could sleep it off.
Bursting through his front door and bolting up the stairs, he gently laid Roundhouse onto the bed.
“Are you alright man?” asked C.J. as Roundhouse tried to seemingly blend into the sheets.
“For real man, I’m getting worried” continued C.J., undaunted by his friends strange behavior.
“C.J.?” spoke a still mortified Roundhouse as he watched the faceless entity pace around the room.
“Of course it’s C.J.! You’re in my damn room!”.
Opting to take a gamble, Roundhouse hastily pulled out his phone and taking a quick picture of the silent figure before him. Tossing his phone to the edge of the bed, he remained stock still as the hooded figure picked up the phone and stared.
And stared.
And stared some more.
The otherwise tense silence was broken as C.J. scrambled with his hoodie, tearing it off of his body and throwing it onto the bed, as a terrified Roundhouse darted away from the innocuous hoodie.
As they both stared at the piece of fabric occupying the bed, C.J. thought back to that night with a growing panic. He wasn’t crazy! That shit did happen and that girl was real! And now he apparently had insane headhunters after him!
How the fuck was he gonna explain this to Granny O?!
“C.J.?”
Roundhouses’ soft voice cut through his anxiety ridden thoughts.
“Yeah man?”
Roundhouse swallowed thickly as he eyed the hoodie. A disbelieving chuckle escaped him.
“What’d you say happened with that girl again?”