Souls & Spirits | ONC 2024

Gun

Mishaal eyed his employer from the corner of his eye as he returned the signed document, albeit too jolly. Rarely Mr. Ray showed any expression so it must be a good sign.

“I would also like to add that we're having a meeting at the Chantel Hotel in the next three days.” Rowan commented over the phone, “I'll bring Ivy along.” Mishaal raised an arched eyebrow, miffed at the prospect of escorting Blaise's goddaughter.

“Perhaps it would be wise to not let a trifling matter intervene in these affairs. I'll see to it that the problem is dealt with promptly.” Mishaal stated as he returned the phone to his employer as he took his leave with the document.

Out of the lesser of two evils, the anomaly linked to the watered down bottles of illicit spirits was preferable to deal with than the wiles of a pubescent girl. No doubt the surly Turk will have a handful with the would-be heiress of the speakeasy once he receives the news of her arrival to St. Louis.

Mishaal Keller was a myopic bookkeeper, but also a cold and calculating triggerman who began working for Mr. Ray when he was only a teenager.

Ender Bolak on the other hand, was a war veteran who had served his country throughout the early 2000s up to the mid 2010s before immigrating to the United States and retiring from the military, he lost his right eye during a skirmish before getting arrested by the authorities.

The only thing that united 2 hardened triggermen, aside from their viridian orbs, was their loyalty to Blaise Ray. Mr. Ray was that mysterious angel that offered them an opportunity when they were at theor weakest point in their lives. Despite how Mishaal and Ender don't see eye to eye for the most part, they were more or less in amicable terms given how their true profession was a dangerous one.

Mishaal had gotten to the back of the cafe to inform the stoic one-eyed behemoth which stood near the threshold of the back door of the cafe, arms crossed like a bouncer.

“I lament to inform you that Miss Taylor is set to arrive in three business days. The good news is that you're in charge of dispatching the riffraff in case you want to let out some steam.” Mishall stated, the Turk glowered with his remaining left eye. “I know the news isn't to your liking so the least we can do is to take action before another problem arises.”

Mishaal headed out to the parking lot whilst Ender left his station from guarding the speakeasy and the back entrance of the cafe when he was assigned to dispatch doubledealers.

"Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into!" Mishaal groused while the surly Turk gave accusatory glare at his protégé when they got stuck in traffic. Just when things couldn't get any worse, Ender turned up the radio to muffle Mishaal's complaints. There were other drivers who were stuck, waiting for the traffic to subside.

“I told you to make another right!” Mishaal spat.

“You don't stop yapping!” Ender refuted with his native accent.

“It's pronounced yah-ping, not yuh-peen you daft Turk!” Mishaal corrected him before Ender started swearing in his native tongue. It was more of an ugly feud that attracted the attention from other drivers who had no other option than to watch the two men bicker in their native tongues.

A teenager raised a small flip phone and flipped it open to record the dispute but had a hard time trying to find a good angle to identify the ones arguing. The feud was interrupted by loud honking coming from the car that was behind them.

“Move it!” An angry female driver shouted. Both men turned pallid when they realized that they were the ones holding up the traffic, the stoplight had turned green a few seconds ago and they drove off Mishaal's hand flew up to his flushed face, slapping his foregead in a facepalm while Ender stepped on the gas pedal. The song the radio played quieted down for a couple of seconds before Ender had turned off the radio, only the purr of the engine filled the awkward silence.

The two triggermen avoided eye contact for the rest of the drive. Ender turned the dark Earl Sedan to a left and drove past an all-boys police academy on their way to their destination.

The St. Louis Police Academy was the institution where a red haired boy was eating the last of his sandwich during the lunch hour before the bell rang. His amber orbs lingered by the door as some of the student body trekked by, one of his classmates walked past him and turned to look at his friend, signalling him to hurry.

“Hurry up! We have target practice.” The brunette warned, before the adolescent that was behind the red haired boy replied.

“I'm coming! Sheesh!” A robust teenager who was taller than the red head sprinted passed him, nearly knocking him over.

“Watch where you're going, Murray!” The brunette sneered.

“Sorry.”

The professor looked at the clipboard and flipped the page to find the current group that took his class and made a rollcall. The students responded once their names have been mentioned.

“Andrew Landis.”

“Present.”

“Dennis McCormick.”

“Present.”

“Kendrick McIntosh.”

“Present.”

“Christopher Muller.”

“Present.”

“Allen Murray.” The professor mentioned as he looked for the student. Nowhere in sight. “Allen Murray.” The professor called with venom in his tone just as the student sprinted into the classroom. “Allen Murray.” The professor rolled his tongue, nearly emmiting a growl.

“Present.” The redhead responded as the students looked at him, the boy panted. The professor glared at Allen and walked towards him, intimidating the teenager.

“Be punctual next time, Murray or I will escort you to the principal's office personally.” The professor forewarned when he heard sniggering from two other students. He turned to look at the class menacingly, “The same rule applies to all of you.”

The ones who sniggered immediately bobbed their Adam's apple while the professor picked up a rod from his deck and pointed Allen to take a seat.

Allen had paced five rows back and two seats adjacent to the window beford taking his seat, holding his backpack as he watched the professor resume with the rollcall until the class began. The current topic of the class was identifying the types of firearms used by the police force.

The professor had taken out a gun case from behind his desk and opened it to reveal the firearm in front of the class. The gun was an M1911 pistol.

The same model Mishaal Keller had in his hand.