❝Beware of the power of the dark side.❞

☀︎︎

EVEN BEFORE HE SET foot in the abandoned warehouse that they had set up for recruitment and planning, Mark knew he was in deep shit. The space was huge and spacious with tiled floors.

But the walls had cracks lining them, the plaster was peeling off and occasionally a few drops of water would fall from the ceiling. He rubbed his temples, annoyed that the place was worse than he had expected.

"Mark, you-" Harry's voice sounded out from the distance. Mark turned to his left to find Harry practically running to where he was standing.

"Okay, okay. I know this place looks worse than shit and before you yell at me-"

"Yell? Are you crazy? This place is perfect. I just looked it up on our satellite map and it is nowhere to be found. We'll be able to stay here for a long time, Mark, good job," Harry bowed his head slightly, gave him the two finger salute and walked back to where he came from.

Mark stood gaping after him. "You are okay with this?"

"Yes, Mark, what else do you want me to say? Marry me?" Harry sighed, exasperated.

"Oh, shut the fuck up-"

"Yeah, no. Pick up your briefcase, Moschino Marvoni won't meet with himself." Harry picked up a coat from the table he had set all the connections on.

Wires spiraled around a huge wooden box, inside which a steel grey computer sat, humming lightly. The wall on the opposite end was already covered with flat screens, ready to be switched on.

Mark felt a thump on his shoulder only to find Harry jingling the warehouse keys. "Lock up and meet me on the Grand Fifth street. We can't risk Marvoni's men picking us up here," he said and threw the keys at Mark.

Mark caught hold of the keys and ran alongside Harry towards the exit. "I'm leaving with you. Just wait for a minute, okay?"

Mark pulled the huge steel doors behind him, breathing heavily from the exertion. "Fine, let's go," he said and brushed his coat after clapping the padlock shut.

They walked to the Grand Fifth, gloved hands in their pockets and they stood waiting at the intersection. Soon enough, a shining blue car pulled up in front of them. The window rolled down and a sunglass-wearing, bald giant signalled them in.

Mark opened the door for Harry and slipped in after him. They sat in silence, sharing the occasional glance to mock either the wailing song playing in the stereo or the clean and shiny bald head of the brute.

After half an hour of agonizing wailing and staring at a 'too bright for the human eye' head, the car stopped in the middle of a desolate street. They were surrounded by crumbled warehouses and burning dumpsters.

The giant stepped out of the car and pulled the door open for Harry. With a nod, he came out of the car, followed by Mark on the other side. Harry buttoned his coat with a slight swift motion.

"Let's move," said Harry and gestured for the man to lead them.

They left the car behind and walked straight towards a destroyed warehouse, whose ceiling had huge chunks of cement missing. Mark walked beside Harry, his posture straight and eyes washing over the area, taking the dirty walls and the numerous exits in.

The man stopped near a bare wall, fumbled inside his pockets for a card, while running his free hand along the wall. Mark looked at him, incredulously, "Uh, this is literally an empty wall. What are you doing?"

Suddenly, a small part of the wall, the size of a fingerprint, started glowing a bright blue. It outlined the shape of the man's thumb and the wall started to part. A small panel slid out with a keyboard flashing above it.

The man entered a quick series of numbers, 675282, Harry noted, and swiped his card. Now, the ground shook beneath their feet and a trapdoor sprung free from the floor, banging against the wall as it came to rest.

Harry walked closer to it and peered down. It was dark with a faint pulsating light emanating from deep inside. He turned to look at Mark, who was too surprised, with his eyes wide and mouth open, to notice Harry.

Mark was beyond elated; technology was to him what kryptonite was to Superman: his one weakness. He suddenly felt a tug on his arm as the man pushed him around, patted his frame to check for weapons and then did the same to Harry.

Mark was bouncing on his feet by the time Harry was done being checked. As soon as the man soundlessly nodded his approval, Mark bounded down the stairs, not glancing behind for one moment.

Descending down into the darkness, he noticed that the walls were made of cool and smooth marble, unlike the hard and destroyed brick surface from above. The tunnel was dimly lit by small glass encased sodium lamps.

At the end of the staircase, a long corridor stretched out in front of them. A small wooden door lit up in the distance and they walked towards it, while stooping low. Upon reaching, the man pushed Mark aside and threw the door open. He closed the door, leaving Mark and Harry outside while he talked to someone inside in hushed tones.

Within a few minutes, the door opened again and the man stepped aside and out of view into the shadows. Mark walked in after Harry and stood still but his eyes roamed the room which looked incredibly like a cave.

The ceiling was dome shaped and was made from the same material as the black walls. Four archways in the walls spread further inside into the darkness. A huge ornate desk stood in the middle of the cave, tall lamps standing beside it. A huge backed chair was turned around, keeping its occupant hidden.

Harry stepped further. "Moschino."

At the mention of his name, the man in the chair swiveled it around. He had spiky black hair, the colour of coal tar. His dark green eyes stood out like a cat's in the darkness, studying them intently. His cheekbones cast a shadow underneath and a wicked grin was plastered on his face.

He looked unnatural, Mark concluded.

"Garry, my man!" Moschino screeched, placing one of his legs on top of the other.

"It's Harry. Still horrible with names as much as with the girls? I saw the company you keep these days," Harry said, his lips quivering into a sly smile.

"Still the scathing humour. Just like your father," Moschino spat, clearly trying to rattle Harry.

His shoulders tensed and a vein jumped on his forehead. Mark moved closer, his eyes daring Moschino to say another word. Harry walked towards a black chair on the opposite side of the table, sat on it , and tilted his head, "Let's talk shop. Do you have what I need?"

"Touched a nerve there, didn't I? Never liked the old bastard myself," he grinned, amused when something dark passed over Harry's eyes. "I have what every human wants. You are no exception. Men or women?"

"Sexist as ever, Marvoni? If you had the balls, you'd know what a woman is capable of. I want two on my team, no more. Two men. All strangers. No drama," Harry said, leaning back in his chair, throwing a hand over the back, ever-so-casually.

Moschino threw his head back in laughter, "Not sexist. Just a realist." Harry showed him the finger and jerked his head back, urging him to continue. "I have terms too. I get a third of what you get."

"Sixth."

"Fourth, no less," Moschino shook his head. Mark felt a deep disgust rise up within him, the urge raging to hit the sexist pig across his smug face.

"Fifth, no more. Plus the credits for the steal," Harry said, not moving a muscle. Sitting there, in front of that enraging imbecile, with a serene look on his face, Harry looked like the very picture of innocence and peace, reincarnated.

Moschino smiled, revealing a gold tooth, "Very well. I'll send them over on different days to avoid any suspicion. Get out."

"That's what all the women say to you, sweets," Harry stood up and held out his hand which Moschino shook. "Pleasure doing business with you, asshole," Harry said, buttoning his coat back and stalked out of the room, Mark in tow.

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