Shit Hits The Fan
As Yama's words hung in the air, the woman's eyes lit up with a fiery determination. The name of her ex left a bitter taste in her mouth, but it also brought her closer to the sweetness of vengeance. She had been waiting for this moment for years, biding her time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike back at the man who had betrayed her. She nodded curtly, accepting the mission.
"Good," Yama said, his voice smoother than silk. "You know where to find him." The woman, who went by the name of Giselle, turned on her heel and marched out of the office, her heels clicking against the cobblestone path like a metronome counting down to doom. She had her sights set on Carl and Dibs, who were still at the club, oblivious to the storm brewing outside.
He had never felt like this before, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to confront it. But as the night grew later and the music grew louder, the pull grew stronger.
Giselle moved through the streets of San Fransokyo like a ghost, her eyes scanning the neon lights for any sign of her prey. She had her own history with Carl, a history that was as tangled as the streets she navigated. They had been partners once, lovers even, before Carl had left her behind in his quest for redemption. The thought of him with someone else, someone like Dibs, was like a knife twisting in her heart. She knew that Carl was working at the club, and she had a plan to ruin whatever new life he had built for himself.
As Giselle approached the club, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, the screen illuminating her face with an eerie glow. It was Yama. "You've got the green light," he said, his voice as cold as the steel of a gun. "Take him out tonight." Giselle's grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles turning white. "Understood," she replied, her voice a deadly whisper. "Consider it done." She slipped the phone back into her pocket and pushed open the club door, the bass of the music thumping through her body like a war drum.
+++++++++++++++++
Back at the club, Carl's heart swelled with pride as he watched the couple he had just helped to calm down. It was moments like these that reminded him why he had turned his life around and started working for Yama. But as he turned back to Dibs, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. The air was charged with an energy that was both unfamiliar and thrilling. Dibs' gaze was glued to Carl's broad back, his thoughts racing. He had never felt like this before, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to confront it. But as the night grew later and the music grew louder, the pull grew stronger.
Carl and Dibs were laughing over some old stories, the tension of the earlier fight forgotten. Carl felt a strange warmth spread through him whenever Dibs' eyes met his, a warmth that was as confusing as it was exhilarating. Dibs, for his part, was doing his best to ignore the racing of his heart and the way his hand kept finding excuses to brush against Carl's. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew he didn't want it to end.
As Giselle approached the table, the air grew thick with anticipation. Carl's smile faltered, and his eyes narrowed. He knew that look, the one that promised trouble and heartache. "What do you want?" he growled, his voice a warning. Dibs looked between them, his stomach doing somersaults. He had never seen Carl like this, so cold and hard. Giselle leaned in, her voice a seductive purr. "Just to catch up," she said, her eyes raking over Carl's form. "It's been a long time." Carl's jaw clenched, but he didn't move away from Dibs. "This isn't the time or the place," he said, his voice tight. "Why don't you leave us alone?" Giselle's gaze flicked to Dibs, and she smirked. "Who's your little friend?" she asked, her voice dripping with spite. Dibs felt a spark of fear light within him. He didn't like the way she talked to Carl, the way she looked at him.
Dibs straightened in his seat, trying to play it cool. "I'm Dibs," he said, extending a hand. "And I'm not just a 'little friend.'" Giselle took his hand, her grip firm, her eyes never leaving Carl's. "Nice to meet you, Dibs," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "But I'm afraid Carl and I have some... unfinished business." Carl's hand tightened around his bottle of beer, his knuckles turning white. "Giselle, I said no," he said, his voice a warning to what will happen next.
Giselle's smile grew wider, revealing a set of teeth that had seen more than their fair share of fights. "Oh, I know," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But I think it's time we finished it, don't you?" She leaned in closer, her breath hot against Carl's ear. "Alone." Carl's eyes flashed with anger, but he knew better than to cause a scene in a place like this. He nodded curtly. "Fine," he said, pushing his chair back. As Carl stood, Dibs felt a cold hand of fear wrap around his heart. He didn't like this, didn't like the way Carl's eyes had hardened, the way he talked about their friendship like it was something to be protected at all costs. But as Carl followed Giselle through the crowded dance floor, Dibs couldn't help but feel a strange thrill of jealousy. He had never felt like this before, and he didn't know how to handle it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in his chest.
-------------
In the alley, Carl's thoughts raced. Giselle had always been trouble, a tornado of chaos wrapped in a seductive smile. He had left her behind for a reason, but now she was back, and she wanted something from him. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it couldn't be good. He had to keep her away from Dibs, had to protect the new life he had built. "What do you want, Giselle?" he asked, his voice tight with tension.
Giselle stopped, turning to face him. The light from the neon sign above them painted her face in shades of pink and blue, casting her in an otherworldly glow. "You know what I want, Carl," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You owe me, and now it's time to pay up." Carl took a step back, his hand moving to the hidden knife at his side. "I don't owe you anything," he said, his voice firm. "We're done. That part of my life is over."
Just as the tension between Carl and Giselle was about to boil over, a shadow fell over them, the neon lights flickering as if in anticipation. A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and imposing. "Is there a problem here?" the newcomer asked, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to echo through the alley. It was none other than Yama, the very crime lord Carl had hoped to leave behind. Giselle's eyes widened, and she took a step back, her bravado slipping. Carl's heart sank. He had hoped to keep his past separate from Dibs, but it seemed fate had other plans.
Before Carl could react, a burly goon slipped from the shadows behind him, a rag soaked in chloroform clutched in his meaty fist. The sweet, cloying scent filled the air, and Carl's instincts screamed at him to fight back. But he knew that would only make things worse. Instead, he took a deep breath and held it, his eyes darting to Giselle for a split second. He could see the betrayal in her gaze before the goon clamped the cloth over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air. His vision swam, and he felt himself being dragged away, his thoughts a whirlwind of fear for Dibs.