Complete

28: D-Day

It has been one week since Mew and Gulf went to the beach. Tonight, Mew is meeting meet Diablos.

After Mew and Gulf got back from the beach, Gulf packed some of his clothes to stay at Mew's place. He wants to spend as much time as possible with Mew.

Getting back from work, they would eat dinner together and fall asleep cuddling. Sleeping with Mew and inhaling his scent helped to calm Gulf. Waking up next to Gulf and having breakfast made by him made Mew's day better.

Mew is meeting Diablos at 11.30 pm tonight.

Gulf glanced at the clock.

Four minutes to eleven.

Despite soaking in the bathtub, cuddling with Chopper and eating a tub of cotton candy ice cream, he still couldn't relax.

Walking to the balcony, he looked out at the cityscape.

Phosphorus moonlight spilled into the dimly lit room. Behind the doors' glass insets, a majestic view of the skyline appeared with startling beauty. There wasn't a cloud in the star-speckled sky. A half-moon hovered at the fringes of the luminous cityscape, where the red blinking lights of distance radio towers twinkling in the night. An industrial-based smog of pollution coated the whole area, acting as a milky filter. The fog softened the hard lines of buildings, and diffused the orange glow of sodium-vapor street lamps.

The cityscape is indeed beautiful. Yet it did nothing to still Gulf's heart. There was a sense of eeriness. Foreboding.

Feeling unsettled, Gulf shakily grabbed a bottle of vodka and drank from it.

Ding!

Checking the incoming message, Gulf's eyes widened.

His heart twisted and sunk with nerves as he read the message. The white light enveloped him, coldly, as he shook. His breaths came in sharp pants and he tried to gain control, but nothing was working.

Trepidation swelled through him as he slowly raised his eyes yet again to the steadily shining screen.

Rereading the message, Gulf dashed out of the apartment.

---

"Here is your seat sir."

Mew sat down on the chair that his men brought. He leaned back, relaxed, puffing his cigarette.

A simple black coat and black turtleneck adorned his body. His rich black trousers rode up slightly when he crossed his legs, accentuating his thighs.

Although dressed simply, his aura screamed power. He looked like the angel of death. Breath-taking yet deadly.

The corrugated iron roof was domed some twenty-five feet above them. With the rain hitting it, the silence that loomed over the warehouse is filled. The doors of the warehouse creaked open, making way for the truck carrying the goods. The wind swept into the warehouse, chilling everyone to the bone.

The silver bullet-proof truck entered the warehouse, inching its way to the middle of the warehouse. The backdoor flung open, the truck holding large crates stamped with 'SHADOW' in large black letters.

Mew strode over to the truck, like a predator eyeing his prey.

The driver hopped out of the truck, going to the forklift.

Operating the forklift, he brought one of the crates from the truck to be placed before Mew.

With a wave, Mew beckoned his men to open the crate. Using a crowbar, they popped open the crate, revealing the technology that would rock the underworld.

The gun parts lay amongst the wood shavings in all its bewitching beauty.

"Hello Mew. I am Diablo."

An old man walked up to Mew, his light brown coat ruffling slightly from the howling wind. His black suit still crisp as he strode. His thick, groomed moustache was silver-white. His wide forehead had numerous lines. Age doesn't seem to hinder him. He carried himself well, his posture and walk the same as any young man.

"Nice to meet you." Mew replied coldly, briefly shaking the gnarled hands before turning to the goods.

"Beautiful. Aren't they?"

Diablo's index fingers traced the gun parts gently.

Assembling the parts, he handed the gun to Mew.

Just when Mew was about to receive the gun, Diablo turned around and fired. In a split second, a thump was heard behind the old machinery strewn across the back of the warehouse.

"Can't have any fleeting shadows ducking around. Can we?"

"Of course not."

If Diablo was suspicious of Mew, Mew didn't show any hint of nervousness.

Diablo's eyebrows raised.

Twirling the handgun around his index finger, he walked closer to Mew. Stopping when they were half an arm's length apart.

"In our line of work, transactions can mean a partnership. Or a trap.

Many transactions in the underworld are traps."

Diablo's stoic face was suddenly replaced with a devilish smile.

You would know, won't you?"