TAKEOVER

10

Professor Ambrose scribbled furiously on the board while explaining something; Stan wasn't even listening, slouched and elbows on the table, his hand supporting his head from falling.

The past three days had taken a toll on Stan, working on the ledgers for Matthew each night since his meeting with Ikram, and each night he left the club well past midnight, sometimes at dawn. Dark circles formed under his eyes, likely due to lack of sleep, his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier as the lecture went on.

Stan had decided to keep his distance from Martha ever since he found out he was being followed; it was his way to protect her from the dangerous world, a world he had already stepped into. It was the last period, and he had planned to practically dash for the campus gates to avoid her. As much as he wanted her, he couldn't risk putting her in harm's way.

Checking his watch, 15:45, five minutes to go, and he was to get out of the campus. The club, on the other hand, was starting to go smoothly. Stan would formulate a way of action, and Ikram would pass through it before giving it to Isack, who took care of everything. But the work pile was so much for a single person, but somehow Stan was making it work.

Matthew, on the other hand, he hadn't seen since that day in the club; he eavesdropped on Isack and Ikram, in which he found out that Matthew was busy preparing for a countermeasure, which meant nothing to Stan, so he focused on the work at hand—or more accurately, on the table.

No rest for the wicked.

The sudden rise of chatter in the class woke Stan from his half-sleep; the professor had already left with a minute to go.

Stan got up, wobbling as he practically threw his bag over his shoulder and walked towards the door. The heat was almost burning, sweat instantly forming in his brows as he walked across the courtyard, heading straight for the gates.

"Stan!" Stan stopped; he had forgotten how much he had missed her; her voice calling his name was enough to dissolve his resolve; her footsteps were approaching faster; she was probably running, and Stan had to come up with a very convincing story about his behaviour.

A slap on his back was already a prelude to the conversation they were about to have. Stan winced. "Oooow!" turning to face her. "That hurt potato head."

Her hair was still curly, seemed shorter, fitting her face frame perfectly, she seemed furious, and her gaze could probably kill. "Don't you call me that!"

"You don't want me to call your name?" He said, smirking. Her demeanour suddenly changed

"God, you look awful," she stepped forward, closely examining him. "What's wrong?" Her tone now had completely changed to genuine worry. And Stan's loss for words wasn't helping.

"Just hungry, that's all," he said, trying to play it cool. Martha studied the man in front of her with worry; she hadn't seen Stan acting this way before; he was hiding something from her.

Martha wanted to know; she wanted to know what was going on so badly and what could possibly be going on that Stan would be avoiding her every chance he got. The knot in her stomach tightened as thought passed through her brain.

"Are you seeing someone?" Her voice was slow as she muttered the'seeing' part, her head lowered, staring at her hands that were fidgeting.

"What? No!" Stan looked like he'd done something terrible. Martha lit up. "Forget I said that," she grabbed his hand. "Let's get something to eat."

Together they hauled to Mary's café; the familiar smell of caramel filled their nostrils as they sat at a far table in the corner, courtesy of Stan. He sat facing the front door.

"What may I get you?" Mary asked, a pen and a notebook in her hands, which were familiar sights for the two seated. "Two iced lattes and three muffins," Martha answered. Mary jotted down the order and left the two in their awkward silence.

"So," Stan started. "You thought I was with someone," his tone a poor attempt at humor. Martha rolled her eyes, leaning back against the chair and folding her arms. "By the way you've been acting lately? It wouldn't surprise me."

The lattes and muffins arrived and were set on the table.

"I've been stressed out with school; I'm way behind." Before he could finish, Martha leaned forward and grabbed her hand, squeezing. "I know you, Stan, school isn't a problem," her expression softened, her eyes full of worry. "If something is bothering you so much, you don't have to carry the burden yourself."

Where the hell did I get a woman like you?

Guilt slowly but surely clawed at Stan. Here he was sitting with a sincere friend, maybe more, and he was lying to her face.

His reasoning kicked in. Matthew, Isack, and Ikram, these dangerous people were watching him, and if he was to tell Martha about them, they would surely target her. The mere thought of it made Stan's heart ache a bit; he had to make a choice; no matter the cost, he was going to keep her safe.

"Martha," this time Stan was the one grabbing her hand, eyes staring at her brown eyes. "I think we should stop this." That came of a shock that was bare on her face. Stan tightened his grip.

"What are you saying?" Her eyes were all across Stan's face. "I'm saying I can't see you anymore; I can't risk it," his voice calm, almost cold.

Her expression shifted to something primal; she shot up from her chair and practically ran out of the café despite her name being called by Stan; she didn't stop. Her head was a whirlwind of thoughts, some of which weren't pleasant to her. She didn't notice she was crying till she reached the university library.

****
23:00
"Alright, man, see you tomorrow." Victor entered the house; he hadn't properly talked with Stan since that night, and he had secretly been stashing up cash to pay him back, but the sight he found in the living room was quite a surprise.

Stan was on the couch, a half-drunk beer in his hand; in front of him were five more empty beers. He was staring at the TV as he chugged the beer down.

"Hey man," Stan didn't bother answering; his gaze focused on the TV. "You alright?" Stan chuckled, his eyes half closed.

Victor had never seen this side of Stan before; he was secretive but social; he never drank nor went out partying much. In fact, this was the first time he'd seen him drink more than a bottle.

He headed for the table. "Tee, you good?" Tee was the name he used to call Stan. He stepped in front of the TV, which didn't affect a thing; Stan just stared ahead into nothingness. His bloodshot eyes were unfocused.

Stan lifted the bottle to his lips. Victor yanked it, placing it on the table. "I think you've had enough for today, Tee." Stan slurred some words as Victor lifted him, supporting him as they walked. Stan practically reeked of alcohol; Victor probably figured he started long before he arrived.

Opening the door to his room, he was once again surprised. The room was a mess, clothes thrown across the room, his computer shattered on the ground. Victor laid his acquaintance on the bed. Stan had finally blacked out.

"What happened to you, Tee?" He muttered to himself, a strong wave of guilt washing over him. He knew this was caused by him somehow; ever since Stan went to that meeting, something changed in him, whether it be going out at night and coming home late or muttering words to himself. It was sure enough. The man lying on the bed was not the Stan he knew.

A knock on the door.

Victor checked his watch. It was late and he had just parted with his buddies which means it wasn't one of his friends. A hint of fear started to creep in as he made his way to the door.

"Who is it?" He asked, as he slowly picked up an empty bottle of beer by the neck.

"I'm a friend of Stan" the voice said "is he in?". Victor hesitated, what if he was a friend? All those days going out at night, he must've gone with some friends and maybe they were picking him up. Armored by the thought he opened the door, although keeping hold of the empty bottle just in case.

It was Isack.

"And who are you?" Victor asked, putting on a face of annoyance
"I'm Isack, one of Stan's party friends. I'm here to pick him up" his voice was calm, he stared at Victor reading his every move, he had also noticed that Victor was holding onto something behind him, probably a weapon. "Is he in?" He asked

"Yeah, but he's unconscious in his room" letting out a smile. "I guess he started the party without friends"

Isack nodded with a smile. "Well, he does go hard"

"Yeah. That's Stan" he said trying to end conversation. Which Isack surely picked up on.

"Anyway, can you tell him that Mathew said that they need to catch up"
"I'll be sure to relay the message" with that Isack left.

Isack was still tailing the lad and was witness to the situation earlier. The conversation with Victor confirmed it, Stan had broken off whatever he was having with the girl. A smart move in the eyes of the enforcer, she was a liability and the sooner she was let go, the easier it would be for Stan.

An evil grin forced itself on Isack's face. Things were finally becoming serious