For the Crew a night is never complete,

Without conflicts in the street,

Before the Fools who wished to compete,

The Queen had taken her seat,

Time to teach those souls of pure conceit,

The meaning of a painful defeat.

“All right, darling! Love you as well. See you this morning! ♡”

“...are you done?”

“Oh heavens! I profusely apologize sirs. Was I too lengthy? May you find the strength in your heart to forgive me. You must understand, my darling is-”

“Shut the fuck up, old hag!”

Oh my. What a precarious situation she found herself in.

A forty-seven year old woman should probably not wander into an abandoned warehouse full of aggressive thugs from Dallas demanding control over Houston.

Definitely not. Maybe in her younger days she’d have thrived in this conflict…

But nowadays, it was so far beneath her. 

As soon as her two “bodyguards” gain more experience in diplomacy, she will make it their problem to handle. A shepherd of her divine stature should not have to put these lost lambs in their place.

“No but for real, y’all called for our boss on this filthy-ass couch? Ya. No wonder he ain’t giving your broke asses the time of day!”

Ah, sweet little Dora. Your words always ring true…

“The fuck is your problem, hotwheels?! You’re picking a fight?!”

…but you should find more productive ways to showcase your youthfulness… and work on your timing.

“No, no, pahám. I’m trashing you to show my love! Filipino style, ya know?”

“I’ll make sure even crawling becomes excruciatingly painful for you, crippled.”

“Good luck with that! I’m not pa-”

This stream of meaningless profanities came to an end before Dora even had the chance to truly make use of her Literature major. The leader of those hoodlums slapped his rude man in the back of the head: “Pipe down Jeremiah, will ya.”

Dora almost jumped out of her seat in pure joy: “Ah! Is-”

“Dora dear, let me do the talking for now, all right?”

Blair’s voice was akin to honey. Warm and comforting, yet overblown with sugar and quite the effective trap. Despite her attempt at sounding “motherly”, it was painfully clear that she hadn’t murdered anyone in this room to stay as professional as possible.

Frankly, Dora wasn’t even sure if Blair would start with those wannabe gangsters if she continued being a little rascal. Tough love is hard to deal with…

“Sorry, Tita.”

“Good girl.”

A cough broke through this awkward blend of genuine affection and distressing mental affliction from both parties. It came from Blair’s second bodyguard, a big guy that paced strangely across the room, seemingly incapable of resting in one place. 

His eyes were supposedly hidden by glasses but his body language and the way he clutched his plastic bottle seemingly full of Gatorade didn’t really leave much room for interpretation regarding his intentions.

His voice was a complete contrast to everyone else’s, very soft and friendly. Tye, the leader of those hoodlums, wasn’t sure if he found it more reassuring or creepier.

 “I… would like to corroborate my colleague’s observation,” he said approaching the thugs’ leader, “Those rooms are too unsanitary to have meetings in.”

“Okay?”

“The gaps of this couch are more than three millimeters each. Combine this with the unwashed stains, and missing cushions, it's a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Did you-,” Tye couldn’t even formulate a proper response at the sheer stupidity of the situation, “Do you…?”

“Oh that’s Rohan. He spent three months relinquishing his job to focus on researching every piece of furniture sold in America,” handwaved Blair as if it was the least surprising thing in this meeting, “Said it could be ‘useful one day’.”

“It was useful. Thank you very much. Water could slip so easily in those gaps. You would catch some darn illness without knowing it. Hence why you should avoid using such poor furnitures in the future”

Seeing the different judgemental stares following his rant made the strange fella seemingly self-conscious: “Ah. It’s very im… important? I think, at least. You see-”

“Rohan, dear, now is not the time for another rant,” reassured Blair before she ordered him to go back to his position, “You’ll get to hear yourself talk later.” 

“Ah! Okay. I apologize for derailing the meeting.” 

Following his words Rohan bowed down before trying to extend hand towards the gang leader who brushed him off. The poor man looked defeated but regained his place besides Dora, who patted his back in sympathy.

Despite the burning hatred powering his entire existence, Jeremiah actually tried to calm down “Honestly Tye, these fools are just messing with us,” he whispered while leaning towards his boss, “No way are they actually part of that big crime family.”

Tye stayed silent. Instead his gaze wandered towards the cracks of both couches. He had a sinking feeling they insisted so much on them for a reason.

“I must say, Mister Tye, you are showing quite an excellent spurt of leadership,” smiled Blair which caught him pretty off-guard, “Being able to manage your right hand man’s bouts of anger must not be easy.”

The ill-timed insults did not really register with him since he felt a sharp pain in his right arm. He frantically looked around him but nothing caught his attention.

What was going on?!

Something told him that he needed to shorten his meeting as soon as possible.

He tried to see if any of his men noticed anything but they were just rallied by Blair’s taunt. Jeremiah was already violating Shakespeare’s tongue. So much for trying to be calm…

Feeling exhausted by this ordeal, Tye hoped to settle things peacefully. The weight of his gold chains became as suffocating as the responsibilities he was untrusted with. Buying Gucci before even finishing his first ordeal was definitely a stupid move, moreso when he was getting thrown-off so easily: “Please, just… we’ve been planning this meeting for a month. Take this seriously, will you? Ma’am... uh…”

The audacity! She was taking this seriously! Very much so in fact! And not even being able to remember the name of the spokesperson was a big disappointment.

Oh well. She could always bless the world with her beautiful name one more time!

But let it be known that the blood will wash easily from her hands tonight!

“Murdina ‘Blair’ Blackwood.”

“Right. Blair. Listen, we…”

Gosh, why were crimemakers so poorly educated nowadays? A gentleman would have used her full name! Well, it did kill her inside that she had to use her maiden name to draw suspicion away from her husband but still! ‘Blair’, just ‘Blair’, that is unruly!

Licking her lips at the prospect of messing up some unruly punks, Blair leaned forward: “You do not sound very confident, young man. Is this your first endeavor into the criminal underworld?”

“No…”

Well, this was quite the surprise. Blair had planned on reprimanding Rohan tomorrow for running his mouth but it seemed to be a bigger problem than anticipated.

On the other hand, the older woman stared at the smarter thug. Could he figure it out in time? Could he understand how they were trying to destroy his life and his pride?

Not that it mattered, he had already lost…

“What? C’mon be more confident in yourself boss, we’ve already gotten the approval of-!”

…and his men really needed to be educated on humility. 

“No.”

Tye did not break eye contact with Blair. The poor boy was visibly shaken up by their presence. He seemed desperate to assess any kind of weakness from the queen herself, or her bodyguards. “If you would like to abridge the meeting, young man, we can always do so.”

Her offer seemed so sweet in appearance but her cheekiness, honed from a life lived in disarray, pushed her to sign Tye something. “It appears quite obvious why you were appointed as the leader.” Blair smiled. It became apparent he was well-versed enough in her native tongue to understand her words when his face contorted in horror. “Smarter than your friends, aren’t you?”

Tye considered her words for a few seconds before regaining his footing: “I wouldn’t say so,” he smiled much to everyone’s confusion, “I suppose we could always postpone this meeting until your boss can actually meet up with us. M.O.O.N has grown into a reputable underground family and our gang won’t be able to settle on a half-baked decision made by underlings.”

Well played kid, mused Blair. If he kept this up he could cancel the meeting without losing any credence amongst his crew and no additional injury. On the minuscule chance he could pull this off, she’d remember his name. 

In hindsight, maybe she didn’t give him enough credit. Sadly, she did forget her roots and how it felt to have no one to care for you but yourself. 

“Yeah, we’re part of M.O.O.N! So you better put respect on our fucking name!”

“Never heard of it,” she lied, “But enlighten me. How do I know you gentlemen are the real deal?”

“You-”

“There’s no need. This would only extend the meeting unnecessarily,” Tye replied, “We just want to make sure we can secure another one with the real leader in due time.”

“Are you sure? I cannot promise another meeting for at least a month, or even two.” She switched her posture to let her vintage dress embellish her presence while she relished in the various complaints those impatient fools were throwing at their mildly competent leader.

“Perhaps this is be-”

“No way, you deaf bitch.”

“Jerem’, don’t-”

Following this crude exchange was a familiar silence. She touched her ears.

Her hearing aids vanished before reappearing in this rude boy’s palms

A Thief, eh? That explained his poor attitude. If he thought he could get away with stealing something from this old lady, he was dead wrong.

Frankly, it was more of an annoyance than whatever threat this rough boy thought it was. Blair spent her whole life like this, she could read lips, answer in kind, speak in sign languages… she even turned them off on her own.

But her privacy… those disgusting hands that were clearly not her darling’s…

Tye could breathe easily now. He would be spared.

Unless he truly cared about this fellow. In that case he should worry.

‘Twas not his fault. He truly tried his hardest.

“I would suggest you give them back,” she interrupted whatever argument those two were having by snapping her fingers, “You know not what you did.”

“Or what? I see you tried to mess with Tye. You really think he’s the only one that understands sign language?”

“Clearly he is. Unless your level of reading comprehension is equivalent to the number of times your parents dropped you onto the pavement.”

Dora took great pleasure in silently mocking that lousy Jeremiah by emphasizing her mentor’s words, while Rohan was too busy analyzing what was the type of mold on the walls of the warehouse to really care.

However, Jeremiah did not bark his answer as usual. He felt… off. “Whatever you say. I think I’ll just stick to listening to him.” Each word coming out of his mouth felt heavier than the last and sweat was starting to accumulate on his forehead.

“Give it back to her.”

Tye’s order made Jeremiah snap his head at him. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating but Tye also looked… weaker than usual. 

“I said-”

“I know. I heard it.” grumbled Jeremiah as he threw her earpieces back to her.

“My very thanks to you, dear.”

When he sat down, the room had become very quiet, until he decided to sully the peace again: “This meeting is absurd. You’re not even the leader of this group, are you?”

“Why does it matter? You’re not the leader either,” grinned Blair before popping her lips together, “at most you’re a… lousy lap dog.”

“That’s it,” barked Jeremiah as he tried to lunge towards Blair not noticing the small seeds floating next to him, “You’ll learn to respect us!”

“Soroche.”

For a fleeting instant, Blair could have sworn Jeremiah was frozen in the air but reality soon found its mark again. He crashed a foot away from his target, the cement beneath him compressing his chest into a twisted armor of doom. He gasped and flopped around the floor but the lime light that embellished Tye’s eyes and clutched hands did not disappear.

“Oh, you’re a Fortress? You must be highly ranked.”

“No, a Purple,” bluffed Tye out of breath but maintaining eye contact.

“Now that’s a load of horse apples,” retorted Blair pointing to the ground, “If you were a Mage, why did you need a catalyst for your magic?”

Tye bit his tongue. He had given too much information by trying to stop Jeremiah. What an idiot! “I’m a B-rank.”

Questions were piling on Blair’s mind: Why did such a rare and high ranking Saint fall into a life of petty crimes? Who gave him the authority to speak on M.O.O.N’s behalf? Dallas’ biggest family probably had a rat they needed to remove. ‘Twas a shame he was so uncreative and overconfident, that is how every kid with potential gets killed in the business.

Seeing that Blair was still showing no outward fear at his power, Tye painstakingly got up. The silence was sapping his energy and esteem. “We’ll take the deal,” he added as he tried to carry Jeremiah out of the warehouse, “I apologize for his behavior.”

“It’s too late for that.” answered a strange voice behind him. It sounded like liquid iron being boiled into bubbles that would burst in a specific order to imitate speech.

Once Tye turned around, he was greeted by a horrific black and purple silhouette who poured a disgusting substance every time it took the slightest bit of action. The wannabe gangster tried to defend himself but the creature melted onto his skin and slammed him on the pavement by increasing its own weight. 

“Hey Tito,” whispered the girl in the wheelchair which grabbed Tye’s attention, “Friendly advice. You should have looked for this~”

Much to his dismay, she twirled his own gun in front of him on her right hand while her left one seemed to completely drown itself in the same liquid as the creature. Fuck, thought Tye mentally kicking himself, a Puppeteer or an Assassin, why didn’t I think of this?!

Therefore, it did not really come as a shock to him that their entire weapon stock was actually at her feet, hidden behind the couch they themselves had set up for this meeting. What morons! Obviously giving the enemy a way to hide themselves is a stupid idea, even if they were outnumbered. 

He tried to call for the rest of his crew but they all seemed to crumble under their own weight due to the mysterious illness that had taken over him. To add onto the humiliation, the creature completely covered his mouth but straightened his posture to allow him to get a clear vision of the warehouse.

It’s over, he lamented. It was so crystal clear now that he thought about it. They were obviously much higher-ranked than he was! Obviously! Such mastery over their own power was a sign of strength that he had yet to achieve. Why did he even underestimate them? They must have been essential figures in the fight against Invaders!

But all of his regrets were worthless now. 

So, he waited for the final strike with bated breath… 

…but it never came.