Status Quo rule no. 37 - The UA leadership isn’t allowed to intervene in the disciplinary course of the UA fighters conducted by the syndicates’ leaders.

Skye smoked at the entrance to the club. ‘Cube’ was one of Bradley’s clubs and his favorite. Neon lights reflected on her black hair as she stood under the big, pink, and blue sign. The guard at the front door was more of a refrigerator than human, and his face had more scars than expressions. He groaned from time to time, sounding like a tired engine. She finished her cigarette and stepped inside.

One of Bradley’s men called her earlier this morning, angry that he couldn’t reach her. After a long deliberation on the status of her broken phone and why it took her so long to get a new one, they agreed she’d come today to meet with Bradley. Avoiding him for long wouldn’t be wise and it was better for her to come to him instead of the other way around. 

Telling him about the man with the white Hirou wasn’t an option, she had to hide that information for as long as she could. If, of course, he didn’t know about it already. Either way, it wouldn’t end well for her. 

She entered inside and walked through the narrow hallway. The booming of the music echoed in her ears through the thin walls. At the club, dancing people fondled one another, others ordered more drinks at the bar. A group of a few men sniffed coke from a girl’s chest who seemed not older than twenty. Another couple was doubtfully fucking, doubtfully trying to break through the wall. Green laser lights lit the smoky dance floor and the familiar odor of sweat and cigarettes engulfed her.

Her hands pushed the crowds of sticky bodies out of her way. One of the dancing girls grabbed Skye by the arm, pulling her closer. Their chests squashed, breaths mingled with the alcohol stench of the girl’s breath. She smirked as the girl leaned her head forward, to her lips. Her hand caressed the girl’s arm as she bit the girl’s lower lip, and sent a small electric current with a smile. The girl jerked away, too drunk to realize what had just happened. Skye turned away and hurried to Bradley’s office on the top floor. 

“You’re late,” one of the guards said as she reached the door. His voice was barely audible through the sound of drums and bass. 

“I overslept.” She lied.

“Of course you did.” He opened the door. 

Bradley’s office was the complete opposite of the club. First of all, it was quiet. The music stayed locked outside of the room that was filled with rich, mahogany colored furniture. Bradley sat on the edge of his desk. A blond, gorgeous girl straddled him, nibbling on his ear. Skye leaned by the closed door, folded her arms, and waited for the girl to finish drowning Bradley’s ear with her saliva. Hiding her disgust was a hard task to pull. 

Braldey raised his eyes and glared at Skye with amusement as the girl turned her head.

“Is she joining us?” the girl asked with a sweet, seductive voice.

Bradley laughed loudly at Skye’s squeamish expression and put the girl down. “Not this time. Go to the bar and get us some drinks. I’ll join you when I’m done here.” He smirked as the girl in the tiny dress left the office.

Bradley was a tall man with salt and pepper hair, deep brown eyes, intelligent face, and venomous smile. He fixed the buttons of his dark navy suit, and stood up, studying Skye from top to bottom.

“What are you wearing?” He raised his brow at her.

“You like it?” She wore a white tank top, her black bra with spikes peaked from it, leather pants, and high heeled boots.

“Not one bit, especially that raccoon-like make-up.” 

She smiled back, but her hands shook beside her body. 

“So,” he lit up a cigar, “tell me what happened.” He slowly moved closer to her. “I was really worried once I heard you got yourself into a hospital.”

“Aiden didn’t tell you?”

“He did, now it’s your turn.” 

Step.

“I left the bar and some Green attacked me.” 

Step. 

“I fought him back but got shot.” 

Step. 

“Then I fainted. I don’t remember anything else.”

Step.

Bradley was close enough for her to smell his cologne. A shiver passed through her, goosebumps appearing on her pale skin. He leaned forward and smirked. She flinched as his breath, cold as the ocean, struck her ear. 

“What are you hiding from me, Skye? You know I care for your safety, you can tell me everything, I won’t judge. So, what are you hiding? You know that hiding things from me can be dangerous, and we both don’t want more harm to happen to you. You were already shot, and I like it when my kids are healthy and obedient.” He whispered.

“Nothing. There’s nothing I’m hiding.” Her voice was barely a shriek. Lying to Bradley was risky and unwise, but the urge to do so was stronger than her. He would get what he wanted from either way, but even the slightest resistance made her feel like she had some power over him. What else could she do? Succumb to him like Alexa was always doing? No. She was better than that. It made no sense in regards to self preservation, but she refused to be a slave.  

 “Of course not.” Bradley moved his head away and clicked his tongue, this was the only warning she received before he pierced her shoulder with a blade he manifested with his purple Hirou. 

A grunt escaped her lips as the blade cut through her skin, not deep enough to impale her to the wall, but deep enough for the pain to make her see white. Still, she kept her head high, her eyes glued to Bradley’s.

“Look what you’ve made me do, and you have a fight this Friday. You should’ve been more careful, Skye. Now, what are you hiding?” Another purple blade flew next to her neck, leaving shallow cuts on it while another one slashed her thigh. Had she been a regular person, this cut would’ve needed to be stitched. 

She gulped audibly, her eyes flickering between Bradley’s eyes and the dark, purple blade that floated above his shoulder. “A man with white Hirou came and beat the Green. Then he healed me and that’s all I know. I don’t remember what he looked like, or even his voice. I lost a lot of blood and fainted.” She whispered through gritted teeth.

The purple blade disappeared. Bradley took a few steps back while shaking his head thoughtfully. Skye, in turn, cautiously assessed her injuries. Her hand touched her shoulder, then moved to her thigh and neck to gauge the extent of the damage. Fortunately, the wound on her neck didn’t run too deep, but the other injuries would require some time to mend. This meant she’d have to step into the arena on Friday while still nursing her wounds. 

She cleaned her bloody fingers on her white top and exhaled a loud breath. Bradley rubbed his chin, his brows furrowed and his eyes nervous, then he leaned back on his table with crossed arms. 

“Did you tell anyone else about it?”

“No.” 

“Good. Don’t ever mention the man with the white Hirou again. Ever. Not even to Mike.”

She gulped again, her throat dry, and slowly nodded.

“Good girl. You see how easy that was? Could’ve spared yourself the wounds.” He smiled and gestured for her to leave. 

Skye bolted out of the room as fast as she could, running through the club, until she reached the bar. The pain in her shoulder and thigh pumped and stabbed with each move. Numbing it was the only thing on her mind. As she approached the bar, the bartender met her with a wide smile. 

“What can I help you with gorge-” Before he could finish the sentence, Skye pulled her hand over the bar, grabbed a bottle of scotch and drank with long gulps. Drops of the liquid cascaded from her mouth down her neck to her bloody top. She drank until she couldn’t, and sighed. 

“Thank you.” She returned the bottle to the bartender.

“Anytime…” He replied, his face in awe. “I think you need this as well.” HE smile and forwarded a cigarette.

She thanked him and ignited the cigarette, allowing its flavor to blend with the recently consumed alcohol. The bartender handed her the bottle once more, and she responded with a smile. As she relaxed, inhaling the steady rhythm of her smoking and sipping scotch between each exhale, the pain gradually faded away while the alcohol content in her bloodstream continued to climb. Unintentionally, she found herself nearing the end of the bottle.

After an hour or so, she somehow managed to pull herself out of the club. What was in that cigarette? It certainly wasn’t just tobacco. 

As she stepped outside, the cold night air hit her hard, or maybe it was the wet pavement? She couldn’t tell. She turned over on her back. The neon pinks, blues, and purples blinded her, forcing her to narrow her eyes as her breaths became shallow. Sleep sounded like a good idea.  

“Why every time that I meet you, you’re bleeding?”

“Oh my God, I’m so high I imagine shit…” She chuckled and placed her arm over her eyes.

“Well, I’ll heal you, but you’ll have to get home by yourself. Sadly, I’m busy today.”

“Whatever.” She whispered while softly laughing.