"HELL IS EMPTY, AND ALL THE DEVILS ARE HERE"
We had been up for hours, Omari and I. Reading article upon article on the much-advanced internet. Soaking in as much information on the Yosemites as we could.
"Vel, it's 5:30 a.m. You should get some sleep. I'll take care of the rest," Omari said as I engrossed myself in the latest news article about the Yosemite Corporation.
I looked up at him from the tablet in my hand. "It's five already? Time does fly in the land of the living," I said, keeping the tablet aside. "Besides, today is phase one, remember? We don't have time for sleep."
"I guess you're right."
"Good. What do we have so far?" I asked, stretching.
"Well, if there's anything I've gathered after hours of intense research, it's that if Yosemite was powerful twenty years ago, they're basically unstoppable now. By human force, that is. You know, you have… abilities. We just can use that and get rid of them as quickly as possible."
I sighed. "Omar, the fact that I have powers doesn't mean I can just materialize in front of them and start planting bullets in their heads. We have to do this the human way."
"Which is?"
"Start from the bottom, and hunt our way to the top," I said, standing up and pacing around the space. "Twenty years ago, the leader of the Yosemite clan was Giovanni Vitale. Heartless, vile, would do anything to get his way. He's seventy now. However, his son, Carter Vitale, is in charge of running his father's business. Everything now belongs to him."
"I know all this, Vel. I read the articles too."
"I could easily find my way into their building," I continued, ignoring him, "and begin shooting bullets. But where's the fun in that? The real high? It's in the wait, not the kill."
Omari remained silent.
"Besides, we really can't just go about killing them. At least not until we're sure they are damned souls. We don't want to make the mistake of sending a soul to heaven."
"That would be bad," Omari said with a smirk.
"Real bad," I said, chuckling.
I walked to the bar, grabbed a bottle and two glasses, and walked back to where Omari sat. I placed the glass on the table, popped the bottle, and filled both glasses.
"I already have a plan," I said, bringing the glass to my lips.
Omari stayed silent, intently listening.
"I'll get a job in the company. That way, I can monitor everything from within." I took a sip of my wine.
"I see how that would work. But what do you know about handling a job in the new world?"
"Absolutely nothing. But what does it matter? I could get an executive position. The closer I am to Carter, the better."
Omari stayed silent, contemplating my idea. "Where do I come in?"
"I need you to figure out a way to buy stocks from the company. As much as possible. Transfer it all to my new human identity. The moment you see that there's an available stock, get it."
"Are you planning to take over his company or destroy it?"
"Whatever comes first," I replied with a smirk. "Now let's get ready, we have a long day ahead of us."
We both dispersed to our individual rooms. I got into the shower, letting the warm liquid caress my body as I pondered over the first phase. To stab your enemy in the back, you first had to get close enough. And that was what I was going to do—get close enough to slit his throat.
By 7:45 a.m., Omari and I were on the bumpy road leading to the city. Our first stop: the home of the administrative assistant. A short pot-bellied man named Juma Anderson. We had learned from one of the articles who he was and where his address was.
Omari and I stepped out of the car, beholding the small mansion that stood before us. The huge compound was surrounded by a small wooden fence.
"Security is a little tight, don't you think?" he said sarcastically, a wide grin playing on his face.
I ignored his joke, taking note of the scenery. What kind of assistant would have such an asset? Just how much was he paid?
"The company's cleaners must make banks," I said, and we walked toward the small wooden fence.
As we stood there wondering how to get in, a little child ran towards the gate.
"His kid?" I asked Omari.
"The article didn't say."
The little girl got to where we stood and I noticed a huge scar on her face—from her right eye to the right side of her lips.
My heart ached. What monster would have given a child such a scar?
"Who are you, miss?" her tiny voice rang, jolting me from staring at her face.
I squatted towards her. "Hey, is your dad home?" I asked.
"Umm, yes. But he and Mom are a little… busy."
"Busy?" Omari said, as he squatted beside me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Are they having fun?"
I rolled my eyes at the idea of fun I knew he was talking about. "Omar, she's a kid," I whispered, causing him to chuckle.
"It doesn't sound like fun," the little girl said. "Dad is yelling. And Mom… she's bleeding again."
My eyes widened as I turned to Omari. We immediately opened the fence and walked in, the little girl trailing behind us.
We walked to the building and were immediately met with a horrible sight. Mr. Anderson stood over his wife, who was slumped on the floor, in a pool of her own blood.
His eyes flew open when he saw us. Panicking, he raised the baseball bat threateningly against us.
"Who the hell are you people?" he yelled, stepping back. His eyes then went to the little girl who hid behind me, grabbing my thighs. "You little bitch! How dare you call for help? How dare you disrespect your father!"
My eyes saw red and I clenched my fist to keep my demons within. I turned to Omari, still seething in anger. "Get them out of here," I said in a calm, poisonous tone.
"Your eyes…"
"Now," I said.
He swallowed his words and moved to the lady, picking her up from the marble floor.
"Where are you taking her? Unhand her at once!" Mr. Anderson yelled, upsetting me more.
Hold on a little, Vel. Till the kid is out of sight.
The moment Omari walked out the door with the mother and daughter, I moved with non-human speed, grabbing his neck and forcefully slamming him to the wall.
My eyes remained on his neck as I tightened my fist. He struggled as he opened his eyes to look at mine that blazed with fury.
"W–what are you?" he said with fear as he struggled to escape my grip.
"Shut up, bastard," I spat, raising him up as my grip tightened.
"Don't kill me, please," he said, struggling to speak.
"I won't," I said, a wicked smile playing on my lips. "Not yet."
With that, I threw him hard across the floor, knocking him out.