The Paranon Chronicles

Chapter 3: Scopum

Vincent always hated walking alone at night. Not that he couldn't handle himself, that definitely wasn't the problem. It was the other people he was worried about. The ones who thought they could handle themselves and decided to test that toxic masculinity out on the street at 2am. Specifically people like Kastriel.

Vincent pictured the outcome of this early morning as he watched Kastriel, on the street, throwing punches straight into a group of expensive looking men. The Casino they had left was to the right of them, its blaring colors lighting up the dusky, empty street, and a backpack full of money was strapped on Vincent's back.

The men Kastriel was fighting were the Kings of the Casino, as most of the players labeled them, and Vincent could see the pure rage and embarrassment in their eyes as they shouted at Kastriel. They had lost for the first time in a decade by a 24-year-old tipsy man, one who couldn't care less about who's hierarchy he's disrupted or what deathtrap he's walked into. Each of them had been ravenously playing him at poker since midnight, and Vincent was positive by their deathly stares that they weren't going to be let out of here with 'Kastriel's' new money.

"Vic, Vic," Simon whispers beside Vincent, "Kas is gonna fall straight through the ranks if he doesn't catch this next assignment, isn't he? You think we should leave him?"

Vincent grumbles at the unwanted nickname, and looks down at Simon's bouncing figure. His curiosity was radiating out of him per usual, and if monsters could smell it, they'd be dead before sunrise.

Vincent shakes his head. "Kastriel will arrive in time for the briefing, I will make sure of it." He looks back at the brawl his co-worker got himself into. "Also, if you could address me normally, it would be greatly appreciated."

Simon's lively brown eyes look up at Vincent, a playful smile on his lips. "You know it suits you."

Vincent scoffs. "Hardly." He doesn't know why or how Simon picked 'Vic' as a suitable nickname, but it has stuck with him since it was first uttered, and it's most likely going to stay.

Speaking of Simon, he's been particularly pumped for the upcoming assignment they received from the head of their Sector. Curious as ever, he'd taken a liking to their target. Vincent can't blame him. It's certainly an interesting one. This is the first time they've been assigned to a detective. Or a human, of all things.

Suddenly, Kastriel is thrown back from the ball of punches, right into Simon's frail, short frame, and the two tumble onto the concrete in a twister looking heap. Simon groans, wiggling under the weight of Kastriel.

Kastriel pops his blob of mousy brown hair out and throws a wavering finger at the men. His slurred, drunk-soaked speech picks at Vincent's regality. "You have got a lot of nerrrvee, takin' me out here and challengin' me!" Kastriel sniffs, a look of defiance on his face, which isn't unusual for him.

"You've taken something that isn't yours, boy." A burly, golden chain decorated man spits back. "I want it back, now. Besides, we wouldn't want any...casualties." He emphasizes the last word, his rugged tone making Vincent take a step forward with a frown. This is quite far enough-

The click of a gun echoes from somewhere right of Simon.

"Back away from him, slowly." A woman dressed in black, far down the dimly lit road, aims the gun right for Simon's head. "Move from these men now, or I'll shoot your friend here." The woman declares. She sounds about ready to pull the trigger.

Simon's small figure turns to look at her, his head tilted. "I beg your pardon?"

Just then, a car's engine starts and teases on the accelerator from far off in the distance. It's a familiar sound, one that sparks up Vincent's distant memory, like a reminder of the different world he lives in. The headlights blink sporadically, obviously trying to signal the three of them.

He rolls his eyes, knowing the consequences that await him and his friends as he whips out a dagger and throws it straight into the black clothed woman's forehead. Her shadow falls to the floor from afar.

Simon releases a breath. "I was wondering when you were going to do that."

The men freeze to a stop and all turn to stare at Vincent with fear. They clearly didn't take this clean shaven, spectacled man as someone who could slice through a skull at 30 feet.

Vincent hides a smirk and pushes up his glasses. It's always amusing when the humans underestimate him. Another vicious roar from the car engine brings him back to the situation at hand. He marches over to the hunched Kastriel as grabs him by his poorly made bun, the ends of his hair sticking out at odd places.

Kastriel wobbles to a stand, with Vincent's help. "Yeahaha, that's right you suckerzzz." He hiccups, swaying on his feet as the three walk towards their boss's car.