Chapter 1
Nokia ran a hand through her short black hair, eyes glinting as she merrily crushed a soda can in her grip. She skipped along the wrecked streets, thoughts of arson and destruction dancing through her mind. Power pulsed through her veins—wild, electric, untamed. She snickered to herself, savoring the sensation.
Unfortunately, just as she was getting into it, a heavy sigh cut through her thoughts.
"Lidia, are you mentally unwell?" came the deadpan voice of Nokia’s one and only partner in crime, Alisan Konstan.
They stood a head taller than her, arms crossed, the sharp angles of their black leather jacket and ripped jeans only emphasizing their disapproval. Their posture was relaxed but exuded judgment, as if they had already decided Nokia was the dumbest person alive and were simply waiting for her to prove it again. Dark lipstick contrasted against their pale skin as they raised a single brow, staring at Nokia like she was an exasperating stray cat that had just knocked over their favorite cup of coffee.
Nokia blinked. “Eh? Me? No fucking way, bitch. I got a clean bill of goodness and kindness.” She puffed out her chest like a proud peacock—though, to be honest, Alisan thought she looked more like a pigeon. A scrappy, over-caffeinated pigeon that refused to acknowledge the laws of nature.
“They gon’ catch yo ass if you keep pullin’ this shit,” Alisan muttered, exasperated.
“Nah, nah, I’m good. I even passed the state test and all that shit!” Nokia declared, beaming as if she had just announced her acceptance into some prestigious program for law-abiding citizens.
Alisan squinted. “The… state testing?”
“Yep.” Nokia nodded, smug.
Alisan paused, then gave her a deadpan stare. “Bitch, there ain’t no state test. How long you sleep last night? Lookin’ like a damn raccoon.”
Nokia tilted her head, considering. Then she shrugged. “Crime, motherfucker.”
Alisan blinked. Then sighed. Then looked away, completely done with Nokia’s nonsense.
The city stretched around them in a chaotic sprawl—graffiti-covered walls, shattered glass, neon lights flickering like tired ghosts. The streets were alive with the hum of activity, but Nokia barely paid attention, too caught up in her own world. They walked on in lazy silence, broken only by Nokia’s wonderful singing.
“Lidia,” Alisan interrupted, voice flat. “I love you, but if you don’t shut up, I will throw you into the nearest dumpster.”
Nokia gasped, clutching her chest in mock betrayal. “You wound me.”
Before she could continue her screeching serenade, a familiar voice rang out.
“Hey, Alisan! Nokia!” A cheerful voice rang out.
Both of them picked up the pace.
“Hey, wait—stop! I ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong!” Heavy footsteps pounded against the pavement as the bane of their existence gave chase. Nokia broke into a sprint. Alisan, however, came to a full stop, deciding to put an end to the menace once and for all.
“Hexie. Stop.”
Hexie skidded to a halt, sneakers squeaking against the concrete.
“Why the hell were y’all runnin’?” Hexie whined, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Dark dreads—fading from deep black roots to light brown at the tips—fell over his shoulder, one rebellious lock slipping into his face.
Alisan crossed their arms. Nokia was still running.
Hexie huffed, slightly winded from his short chase. “Boss is callin’ y’all.”
Alisan raised a brow. “Moss did? What for?” They asked.
Hexie shrugged nonchalantly. “Why would I know?”
“It? Bitch, my pronouns are she/he/they. Where do you see ‘it’ on that list?” Hexie shot back, waggling their eyebrows.
Nokia recoiled, Her expression contorted as if she had just witnessed someone licking the floor. “Ew. Never look at me like that again, you goddamn geometric monstrosity.”
Hexie grinned, flashing teeth. “You love me.”
“No,” Nokia said immediately. “Alisan, kill it. Please.”
Alisan sighed but grinned, eyes gleaming. Light burst around them in a chaotic swirl, words twisting into existence— “Rats Amongst Our Paradise.”
A serrated sword materialized at their back, steel glinting with wicked edges. Alisan unsheathed it with an easy swing. “Shape! I banish you back to where you came!”
Hexie squeaked and scrambled backward— metal scraped against concrete, then flesh met brick.
Nokia and Alisan chuckled, stepping over their fallen friend as they continued toward the base.
Nokia stopped at every store, flexing her wealth. “Ooo, nice necklace. Cute sticker. Holy shit—a motorcycle?!” She grabbed whatever caught her eye, rambling all the while.
“Lidia, you are not that rich. Stop buying whatever you see before you go broke.” Alisan huffed, shifting the weight of the ridiculous pile of bags they had bought—on Nokia’s card, of course.
Nokia suddenly spun around, pointing at nothing in particular. “Oh my god, it’s a hot lesbian!” she shouted.
“WHERE?!”
Alisan whipped around so fast they nearly dropped the bags. They scanned the area, eyes darting between confused passersby—only to find absolutely nothing.
Slowly, Alisan turned back to Nokia, face blank. “Bitch, I hope your pussy gets haunted.”
Nokia burst into laughter—then paused when Alisan didn’t.
As they continued their banter, they eventually made it back to base. The base was a large building, made of glass and metal, surrounded by apartment buildings that served as Mafia dorms.
Alisan and Nokia took the elevator up to the top floor, all while complaining about the sheer amount of windows. They had dropped off their purchases on the way here, including the motorcycle. Alisan still didn’t understand why Nokia had taken that.
The elevator hummed as it glided up to the top floor. The doors slid open, revealing dimmed lights and a hallway that felt both full of people and eerily empty at the same time. The base had always felt like this—full of movement but strangely hollow, as if the walls were hiding something.
They walked down the long corridor to a large door covered in childish stickers and posters. Pausing in front of the door, both stopped.
Alisan knocked. “Hey, Moss? We’re here, Lidia and me.” Before Moss had any chance to respond, the door swung open, and Nokia stepped through.
The room was largely vacant, except for a small black-and-white cat lounging comfortably. It felt warm, cozy even, with the soft hum of familiarity in the air.
Nokia faked a dramatic bow while Alisan went to find a blanket. “Oh, my lord. Are you feeling eepy?” she snickered in a baby voice.
The cat atop the table opened its eyes, stretching its sleek body with a yawn. It blinked slowly before speaking in a faint Scottish accent, “I'm eppy. Also, where’s Alisan? Gone again?”
Right here." Alisan spoke up from behind Moss, a blanket in hand.
"Great! So, I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here—"
"No," both Nokia and Alisan said flatly.
Moss ignored them. "Okay, so we have problems, and you are going to fix them because I’m older, wiser, and obviously the most mature."
Alisan slouched further into their chair. "Debatable."
"First off, Alisan."
"Hai!"
"There’s some weird demon twink priest thing causing havoc in our territory. Capture him. Bring him to me. Be quick about it."
"Sure thing, Mister ’Tism," Alisan nodded, immediately getting up to prepare (read: steal food from the nearest unattended plate).
Moss flicked his tail but didn’t comment, turning instead to Nokia. "I have something different for you."
Nokia narrowed her eyes. "Is this racial discrimination? Do you prefer Russians?"
"No comment." Moss hopped off the table and onto the spinning chair by the desk, giving it a slow, lazy turn before continuing, "Our local terrorist is pissed—someone’s been stealing their job. This could turn into a real problem, y’know? Fix it, please. Pretty please, Kia."
The flat tone made it clear he wasn’t actually asking.
Nokia raised a brow. "And what do I get in return?"
"No punishment for a month and access to th—"
"Deal," Nokia cut in, grinning. She didn’t even let him finish—unlimited destruction with no repercussions was all she needed to hear.
"Alright then. I’ll debrief you on the mission."
Nokia blinked. When she opened her eyes, the cat was gone—replaced by a pale-skinned man with light hair.
"So, to begin with…" Moss launched into his usual long-winded explanation.