I can’t get in.
That brat Abhi cut off our communication to watch his cartoons or play video games, and now I can’t get home through the secret passage. If he doesn’t let me in, the cocoa milk will get cold!
Normally, I use a motorboat to access a large pipe in the suburbs that leads to the sewers. From there, I can navigate my way to our apartment, with only a reinforced door blocking the path to our basement. Unfortunately, the door can only be opened from the inside, so I’m currently stuck outside, and my partner isn’t answering my calls despite ringing multiple times.
The ladder to the surface is nearby, but I don’t want the neighbours to see me in my work clothes. It’s not about fashion; it’s because this hideout is so well concealed, and I don’t want to raise any suspicions. But I can’t stay down here any longer—the smell is unbearable, and the sight of that closed door is frustrating.
With hesitation, I climb up the ladder, hoping the late hour works in my favour and that no one sees me.
Stepping out of the manhole cover, I find myself in the courtyard in front of our building. I quickly scan left and right, making my way into the flat.
Reflecting on today’s events, the work didn’t last long, just a few hours, but so many things happened. I’m physically and mentally exhausted.
I try to push those thoughts aside, but the mission was a failure, and I almost died. Body guarding just isn’t for me—I should return to my old job. “Ah… I need a shower… And my coco—”
“Ah, good evening…”
Holy fuck, he scared me! It’s the old neighbour from upstairs…
AND HE SAW ME!
“Oh, haha, hello there… What brings you to our door at this late hour?” I say, trying to hide my annoyance.
I’m actually this close to murdering him and hiding his body in the sewers.
“Well, my wife and I have no objection to you having some friends over, but we were wondering if you could ask them to be a bit less noisy. We can hear you from all over the building, and I had to pause my favourite show to come and tell you. I may be going blind, but I’m not deaf yet!”
What the hell is this old man talking about?! He’s probably senile—I don’t have to take him seriously. I’m confident that no one can get in without me noticing, so it must be Abhi who forgot to turn on his headphones while watching films or something.
“We’re really sorry about the noise,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’ll tell my friends to keep it down.
Whose friends? Abhi doesn’t have any friends, although I wish he did so he could invite them over. But not tonight, I’m exhausted.
“Good, thank you. Please be careful next time,” he says as he presses the button for the elevator.
“Of course, you won’t have to worry.”
Because the next time you come, I will blow your head off, burn all your hair and fingerprints, give your genitals to a tiger in the zoo, and sell your organs and teeth on the dark web.
I won’t let anyone ruin this perfect hideout!
I wait for him to enter the elevator and go up before entering our apartment.
The lights are off, but I know Abhi is here. He doesn’t like brightly lit places, so we’ve made it a habit to live with as little light as possible. It’s also more discreet.
I find my patiently waiting cocoa milk in a lightly warmed pot. I gently stir it with a wooden spoon until it’s perfectly mixed, then pour it into a cup.
As I bring it to my lips, the taste is exquisite. Abhi has diligently followed my instructions, from the precise measurements to the slow heating technique. He’s been a diligent boy, and I should buy him some cakes tomorrow as a reward.
I take the mug and head to the computer room to thank him, but to my surprise, it’s empty.
Strange, I would have bet he was there.
What the...?
My heart races as I notice muddy footprints on the floor, leading all the way from the entrance. Is there someone else here?
No way, it must be Abhi…
I rush down to the basement, hastily grabbing the bra and panties hanging in front of the laundry as I unlock the gate.
With my heart pounding at 200 bpm, I press my fingerprints on the pad and enter the secret code.
Finally, I open the door.
“Hehehe, what do you think of this one? No, that one! What do you think of that?”
The scene before me is beyond comprehension.
Abhi is drenched in sweat, desperately trying to save the old man’s life.
He painstakingly removes every last bit of melted plastic from the man’s body and stitches up the open wounds. His face shows signs of exhaustion, and he’s on the verge of losing all sense of reason.
The cause of this disaster is that foolish girl who had come here and is now parading around in different wigs and hats from my collection of disguises.
“D-do something… Schwa…” Abhi pronounces, panting.
So she wasn’t a traitor after all, but as I observe this chaotic scene, a part of me wishes she had been.
“Mwahaha, so do I look good? Oh, hey, it’s Boobies! You took your sweet time! This place you have here is so cool, I’m in awe! Where did you find such nice hats?! I look like a cute anime girl. And is that a scimitar? Oh, why are you holding your underwear like that? Don’t worry, I didn’t touch them.”
She grabs my left hand with her own and yanks my shoulder before I have time to react. In a split second, she twists my arm with incredible speed and force, causing me to lose my balance. With a swift kick to my shinbone, she sends me down on my knees. Taking advantage of my vulnerability, she lifts her leg high above my head, tracing a perfect semicircle in the air, before bringing it down on my neck. The pressure from her calf muscles squeezes the air out of me, making it difficult to breathe.
Balancing effortlessly on one leg, like a professional ice skater, she maintains control over me with a beautiful and effortless neck lock, using her remaining arm as a counterweight. I am completely subdued, unable to resist with my arm and neck trapped in her grip.
“I always wanted to learn how to do that…” I manage to say, struggling for breath.
“You fucking idiot, drop the talwar. It’s not a toy for the likes of you.”
If the ‘talwar’ she’s referring to is the sword, I obediently let it fall to the ground.
With her right hand, she removes the wig and hat from my head and tosses them aside.
“Do you remember what I said when we last saw each other?” she asks.
“That I’d be fine? Well, as you can see, I’m fine, so if you could…”
“BEFORE!” she interrupts, her leg pressing harder against my neck.
“G-g-g-g-go eat in a restaurant! But I told you I don’t have any money, so…”
“DON’T. TOUCH. ANYTHING.”
“Ouch, ouch, ouch!” The pain intensifies, and I attempt to stop her leg with my remaining hand, but her grip is unyielding.
“DON’T. TALK. TO. MY. PARTNER. WHILE. HE. WORKS.”
I start tapping her leg, a sign of surrender.
“AND. GO. AWAY.”
She releases her grip and pulls me to my feet, giving me some much-needed breathing space, only to promptly throw me out of the Batcave as it seals shut behind me.
“Scary…” I mutter, massaging my neck.
Well, I’ll just find something to do upstairs.
I would have liked to watch anime on Abhi’s stuff, but I’d pierce the eyeballs of anyone who touched my knife without my permission. So I’ll refrain from doing the same to others.
I settle in the living room and notice a warm mug of cocoa milk on the table, reminding me of my own thirst and hunger after tonight’s rollercoaster of emotions.
“A sip won’t kill…”
What a divine taste… How is it made? What brand of cocoa is it? The milk is velvety and creamy, like a cloud melting in my mouth, and the chocolate leaves no bitter aftertaste. The sweetness saturates my palate perfectly, triggering an onslaught of memories I’d rather forget.
It’s been years since I’ve tasted something like this—a taste that resembles…
A mother’s embrace…
I sink deeper into the sofa, closing my eyes. Tears flow uncontrollably down my cheeks as I drift into a deep, melancholic slumber.
In the dark, high-security basement, the only sound that breaks the silence, apart from occasional words, is the steady rhythm of our heavy breaths.
The initial unrest caused by the troublemaker has long faded, and the blinding neon lights have been switched off, allowing the spotlights above the operating table to take over.
With sweat cascading down our scorching foreheads, we have to admit that saving our client has turned into one of the most demanding surgical experiences we’ve ever faced.
We stand face to face at the edge of the table, relying on our instincts and expertise since we couldn’t afford vital signs monitors. I assist Abhi by regularly checking the patient’s heart using a stethoscope, while keeping a defibrillator nearby just in case.
After what feels like an eternity but is only five hours, we finally extract the last piece of plastic from the old man’s leg.
“Tweezers,” Abhi requests.
I hand him the tweezers I’ve been holding, and in return, he passes me a pair of scissors.
Despite the pain evident in his voice, he remains calm. With skilful precision, he grabs the last fragment of plastic, using his left hand to gently pull the skin apart and successfully remove it from the muscle.
I retrieve the basket I’ve kept nearby and extend it to Abhi, allowing him to discard the bloodied foreign body along with its comrades.
He nonchalantly tosses the tweezers over his shoulder, a clear sign of his weariness and relief that the ordeal is almost over.
Drawing the needle and thread from his blouse pocket, he deftly stitches up the final open wound, while I collapse onto the ground, utterly exhausted.
“Schwa…”
“I can’t keep my eyes open,” I confess.
The coldness of the cellar floor provides a refreshing respite, and I find myself on the verge of drifting into slumber.
“I need the scissors,” Abhi finally murmurs.
So, without hesitation, I toss them into the air.
“Hey…” He lacks the energy to shout at me, and the scissors twirl in the air until Abhi catches them by the handle, preventing them from landing on the patient. “We went through all this for almost nothing,” he sighs.
“I have complete faith in your superhuman reflexes,” I retort, managing to laugh despite my closed eyes. The final snip of the scissors is followed by a soft thud.
Abhi must have chosen to rest on the floor as well.
“We should consider putting a bed here … for next time,” he mumbles.
“A sofa would make more sense…”
“But we already have one upstairs.”
“We have beds upstairs too, you know?”
“You’re right… Maybe we should get a TV as well…”
“Are you kidding? We need a vital signs monitor. I’m tired of checking his heart every minute. And oxygen masks and IV equipment. Oh, and we ran out of donor blood.”
“Are we turning into a clinic?” Abhi questions.
“Maybe we should. We might actually make some money!”
Our laughter echoes loudly, filled with a carefree spirit, before it dissipates into a tranquil silence.
Overwhelmed by fatigue, we succumb to sleep, our bodies finding solace in the peacefulness of the moment.
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