Mystery
The Stranger in Apartment 6B
*Some people enter your life for a reason you don’t understand… until it’s too late.* It was the beginning of winter when Zara moved into the old apartment building on Maple Street. She was starting over—new city, new job, new life. Her past was something she didn’t talk about. She just wanted peace, silence, and a fresh start.The building was quiet, filled with older people and a few young families. Her apartment was 6A, on the sixth floor. Right across the hall was apartment 6B.She never saw who lived there. The door was always shut. The lights were off. No one came or left. Just a small wooden sign hung on the door with a name: "Rehan."
By ArshNaya Writes7 months ago in Chapters
Last Night Out . Content Warning.
Title: Last Night Out Setting: Las Vegas, Nevada The Strip, luxury suites, underground clubs, sketchy locals, desert outskirts, casino backrooms. A dream bachelor trip gone straight to hell. Main Characters (The Crew): 1. Malik Johnson (The Groom) – 33. A former street hustler turned real estate mogul. Clean now, but one bad choice in his past could blow everything up. He’s marrying Kenya, a powerful attorney who helped him go legit. 2. Trey “T-Money” Rivers (Best Man) – 34. Always chasing thrills. Owns a party planning and promotions business. Loud, flashy, and not as together as he pretends. He’s in deep with some dangerous Vegas locals. 3. Desmond “Dez” Walker (The Enforcer)– 35. Retired Marine turned personal trainer. Protective, level-headed until triggered. He has PTSD but hides it well. Loyal to a fault. 4. Rico Vaughn (The Funny Guy) – 32. Works in tech. Talks too much, drinks too much, but notices everything. Married with kids and sees this trip as one last wild hurrah. Ends up playing a key role. 5. Jalen Carter (The Wildcard) – 31. Reserved poet and tattoo artist. Grieving his older brother’s recent death—he hasn’t spoken much since. Bonds with a mysterious woman in Vegas who turns out to be connected to everything. The guys fly out to Vegas for Malik’s bachelor party weekend, orchestrated by the ever-hyped Trey. But what starts as strippers, shots, and rooftop views turns sinister after a private VIP party gets out of control. By morning, a dead body is found in their suite—someone no one claims to know… but someone definitely *does.* One of them is lying. One of them is being hunted. And one of them won’t make it back home. As more secrets unravel and another person ends up dead, the trip becomes a frantic fight for survival and truth. Brotherhood will be tested. Loyalties will be broken. And the groom may not even make it to the altar. 5:32 a.m., Las Vegas Strip Blood on the carpet. > A woman screaming in the hallway. > Dez slumped in the elevator, barely breathing. > Malik stands in the suite doorway, hands shaking, shirt soaked with someone else’s blood. > “I swear to God,” he whispers, “we were just supposed to have a good time.” > Sirens wail in the distance. He knows they’re coming. > And he knows the wedding is the last thing he’ll be attending. Chapter 1: Viva Las Vegas “Y’all better not get me locked up out here. I got a wedding in three days.” Malik Johnson leaned back in the black Escalade as it pulled onto the Las Vegas Strip, neon lights reflecting off the tinted windows like fireworks trapped in glass. The bass thumped from inside the SUV, and the smell of weed, sweat, and too much cologne blended into something uniquely male and momentarily free. The kind of freedom you only get on the edge of something big—like marriage, or a disaster. “Man, relax! Ain’t nobody getting locked up,” Trey laughed from the passenger seat, flashing that high-wattage smile that had gotten him into (and barely out of) too many situations. “This weekend is about celebrating the death of your bachelorhood. Properly.” “We ain’t even been in the city fifteen minutes,” Dez grumbled, looking out the window. He was tense, arms folded, jaw tight. Dez had been like that sinc” they left LAX. Military sharp. Eyes always scanning. He didn’t trust Vegas, and he damn sure didn’t trust Trey’s version of a party. In the back, Rico leaned forward between the seats. “Did y’all see that billboard with the half-naked magician ridin’ a tiger? I love this damn city already.” Jalen said nothing. He hadn’t said much since they got off the plane. Just sat there with his AirPods in, hoodie up, sketching in that little black notebook he always carried. He’d been like that for months now, ever since his older brother Dre got killed. This trip was supposed to bring him back to life a little. “Jalen, you good?” Malik asked, nudging his foot. Jalen looked up briefly, eyes a little glassy. “Yeah. Just taking it in.” “Don’t be weird this weekend, bro,” Rico teased. “We’re here for strippers, shots, and maybe a little spiritual healing—if that’s your thing.” “It’s not,” Jalen replied flatly, and went back to sketching. Flashback: Two Days Before – Malik and Carmen Carmen adjusted Malik’s bowtie in their South Central condo, her fingers gentle but firm. “Promise me you won’t let Trey get you arrested. Or dead. Or worse.” “What’s worse than dead?” Malik teased. “Instagram Live,” she replied without blinking. He laughed and kissed her forehead. “It’s just a weekend. I’ll come back in one piece.” “One piece, one bank account, no weird rashes. That’s all I ask.” He laughed again, but in the pit of his stomach, something felt off. Not about her. About everything. The Luxora Penthouse Suite was the kind of room you only saw in music videos or money-laundering scandals. Two floors. Glass walls. A hot tub on the balcony. Malik stood by the window, drink in hand, staring at the ocean of city lights below. “You really pulled this off,” he admitted to Trey, who was setting up shots on the granite bar. “I ain’t even mad.” “Of course I did,” Trey said, clinking glasses with Rico. “I told y’all, I wanted to give you one last taste of freedom before the chains go on.” “Marriage ain’t chains, bro,” Dez said, sipping water and staying sharp. “It’s supposed to be peace. Discipline. Real connection.” Trey snorted. “Sound like prison to me.” Jalen finally spoke, voice quiet. “You ever think maybe we make jokes ‘cause we scared of being honest?” The room went quiet for a second. “Damn, okay Langston Hughes,” Rico said, holding up his drink. “Salud to that.” Later that night – The Strip They hit the boulevard hard. Strip clubs. Hookah lounges. A brief detour to a rooftop cigar bar where Dez ended up in a chess match with a retired Mob lawyer. Trey dropped four grand in twenty minutes on a roulette table and didn’t blink. “We’re just getting started!” he shouted, holding up a glass of something brown and expensive. At one point, Malik FaceTimed Carmen from the bathroom of a club. “You okay?” she asked, eyes squinting at the noise. “Yeah, yeah. Just thinking about you.” She smiled. “Don’t get soft on me out there. Enjoy yourself. Just don’t bring home a souvenir.” He laughed, but again that feeling in his gut twisted. By midnight, they were deep in **Echelon**, an underground nightclub beneath one of the newer hotels off the main Strip. It wasn’t even open to the public—Trey had a connection who had a connection. It was all red lights and gold mirrors, women who looked like Instagram filters come to life, and music that vibrated through bone. Malik was buzzed but keeping it cool. Trey had disappeared into a back room. Dez was in protector mode, eyeing exits. Rico was flirting with two women twice his energy. And Jalen—Jalen was in a corner booth talking to a woman in a green dress with a tattoo of a snake around her wrist. “What you drinkin’?” she asked him. “Whatever numbs the silence.” She smiled slowly. “I think you and I got the same kind of ghosts.” “You ever lose somebody and forget how to be a person afterward?” Jalen asked. “Every day,” she said, and for a moment, they just sat in silence. Not lonely. Just… understood. Back in the VIP, Trey was arguing with a man who looked like he ate debt collectors for breakfast. He wore all white, even his shoes, and didn’t blink much. “You said tomorrow,” Trey hissed. “I said soon. That ain’t the same thing. You bring me the package, we square. You don’t? Well, you and your little friends better enjoy this weekend like it’s your last.” “I’ll get it. Just give me until—” “You got ‘til sunrise. After that, my kindness expires.” Trey left that room with a smile on his face and murder in his eyes. At 3:47 a.m., Malik stumbled back into the suite alone. Dez was already there, standing on the balcony, smoking in silence. Jalen hadn’t returned. Trey texted saying he was closing a deal. Rico was last seen doing karaoke in a private suite with a woman he swore looked like Rihanna. Malik tossed his jacket on the couch and sat down. “You trust Trey?” he asked Dez. Dez took a long drag. “I trust Trey to be Trey. Which means I don’t turn my back too long.” Malik laughed, but it wasn’t real. “What the hell are we doing out here, man?” Dez turned, smoke curling out of his nostrils. “Trying to hold onto something that was gone the second the plane landed.” At 5:11 a.m., someone screamed in the hallway. At 5:13, Dez kicked open the bathroom door. At 5:14, Malik stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the blood on the tile. At the man slumped against the tub. It wasn’t one of them. But somebody knew him. Chapter 2: What Happens in Vegas... The suite smelled like fear and bleach. Dez stood in the bathroom doorway, one hand pressed against the wall, the other clenched at his side. Blood pooled under the man’s head, creeping into the grout like a dark secret trying to escape. Malik felt his throat close up. "Who the hell is that?" Dez didn’t answer. He was looking at the dead man like he recognized him but didn’t want to admit it. Rico burst through the front door, shirt half-buttoned, face flushed from alcohol and whatever else he'd been doing. "Yo, what the hell was all that screaming—" He froze when he saw the bathroom. "Ayo, what the—?" Jalen entered a beat later, eyes wide, hoodie soaked with sweat. The woman in the green dress was nowhere to be found. "Close the door," Dez said, calm but sharp. "Should we call somebody? 911? Security?" Malik asked, voice cracking. "Hell no," Dez snapped. "We don’t know what this is yet. We need to think." Jalen moved past them slowly, studying the body. The man had on a navy jacket, gold chain, and a wristwatch that probably cost more than Malik’s car. No ID in sight. Just blood and silence. "He was shot," Jalen muttered. "Twice. Once in the chest, once in the head. Execution-style." Rico swallowed hard. "Yo, how the hell would you know that?" "'Cause my brother got done the same way." The silence grew heavy again. "Where’s Trey?" Malik asked. Dez pulled out his phone. "Been texting him. No answer." "Y’all think Trey has something to do with this?" Rico held up his hands. "Look, man, this whole thing is starting to feel like a setup. This some ‘Ocean's Eleven’ meets ‘Snowfall’ type shit. I didn’t sign up for this!" Dez pulled everyone into the living room. The mood had shifted completely—hangovers forgotten, adrenaline surging. "We need to clean this up and figure out who that is. Fast." "You mean get rid of the body?" Malik asked. "No," Dez said. "We need to control the scene. Until we know what we’re dealing with." Jalen paced. "I was with that woman—the one in the green dress. We were heading back here. I stopped to buy water, and she just... disappeared." "What’s her name?" "She said her name was Genesis." "Like the Bible?" "Yeah." Dez rubbed his temples. "Goddammit. This is bigger than a bachelor party gone wrong." Flashback: Trey – 4 Hours Earlier Trey sat across from the man in all white again, this time in a cigar lounge nestled behind a speakeasy downtown. It was smoke-filled and quiet, except for the occasional clink of ice. "I got the product," Trey said, sliding a flash drive across the table. "Encrypted, like you wanted. Names, accounts, all of it." The man picked it up with gloved fingers, nodding once. "And the courier?" "Handled. He’s not gonna be a problem." "You’re sure?" Trey paused, jaw flexing. "Positive." "Good," the man said. "Because if he shows up anywhere after tonight, your friends won't live to tell the bachelor story." Present – Luxora Suite, 6:22 AM Malik sat on the edge of the couch, watching as Dez opened the dead man’s phone using facial recognition. "If we find a name or contact, we might know what we’re dealing with." "How you know how to do all this?" Rico asked. "Military. Black ops. Counterintel. I've seen bodies in more bathrooms than I care to count." Jalen handed him a small wallet that had been in the man’s inner jacket pocket. Inside: a California driver’s license. Name: Eli Mercer. Age: 38. Malik blinked. "Wait—I know that name. He was trending a few months back. Something about offshore banking scandals." "This dude was a whistleblower," Jalen added. "Dre—my brother—he talked about him once. Said he had enough dirt to burn half of L.A.’s real estate elite." "Why was he in our suite?" Rico whispered. "What if this was meant for Trey? Or one of us?" Just then, Trey finally walked in. Shades on. Calm as ever. Until he saw the body. "What the—?" "You tell us," Dez said, stepping in front of him. Trey shut the door quietly. Took off his glasses. His eyes told a story his mouth wasn’t ready to say. "I didn’t kill him." "But you know who did," Jalen said. Trey sat down heavily. "Eli was supposed to meet someone here. He was being followed. He asked me for a safe space. Said it would only take an hour." "You let a fugitive into our suite? On Malik's bachelor weekend?" Dez nearly roared. "I owed him. He saved my ass once. Back when I was running crypto scams in Dubai." Rico shook his head. "Man, what the hell have you not done?" "He was supposed to meet a buyer. I didn't know it would go down like this. I left before they arrived." "What buyer?" Malik asked. "A woman. Genesis." The room froze. "Jalen was with her last night," Dez said. Trey looked at Jalen, eyes narrowing. "You talk to her?" "Yeah. She was cool. Real intense." "She’s an assassin. Corporate grade. Ex-Mossad, probably freelance now. She’s burned half the world’s whistleblowers for hire. If she knows your face, she’ll erase it." Jalen paled. "She was with me for hours. Why didn’t she kill me?" Trey shook his head. "She only kills liabilities." "So what are we?" Malik asked quietly. "Loose ends." Flashback: Genesis – 3 Hours Earlier Genesis sat in the back of a black town car, looking through photos of Jalen, Malik, Trey, Rico, and Dez. Facial scans. Employment data. Military records. Social media. TikTok videos. "You want them all gone?" the driver asked. "No," she said. "Just the one who made the deal. The others are insurance." "Insurance for what?" "In case I need leverage." Back in the Suite Dez stood and grabbed a duffel bag. "We need to get the hell out of this hotel. Now." "Where we gonna go?" Rico asked. "I’ve got a contact in North Vegas. Ex-agency. He owes me." "Wait," Malik said. "We’re just running? What about calling the cops? The feds?" Dez stared at him. "Malik, this ain’t about truth or justice. We call the cops, we go down for murder and conspiracy. You want your wedding in handcuffs or a casket?" Malik fell silent. Trey nodded slowly. "We disappear for 24 hours. Lay low. Figure out how to spin this. Maybe leak the footage of Genesis to the right people. Make it look like we were witnesses, not suspects." "You recorded her?" Dez asked. "Always do." Final Scene – 7:05 AM The group slipped out of the hotel through a service exit, faces low, hearts pounding. In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder. Behind them, Eli’s body lay cooling in the suite. Across town, Genesis stood on a rooftop, watching them through binoculars. She smiled, then whispered, "Four down. One to go." Chapter 3: The Getaway The black Escalade tore through the neon-lit outskirts of Las Vegas, cutting through the desert dawn like a blade. Inside, five men sat in tight, nervous silence, each battling a different kind of fear. Dez drove, face locked in focus. The Glock he’d retrieved from the suite sat between the seats, gleaming under the rising sun. Every few seconds, he checked the rearview mirror. “We clear?” Trey asked, voice low. “For now,” Dez replied. “But if Genesis is tracking us, she’ll be three steps ahead.” Malik wiped sweat from his forehead. “I just wanted a damn bachelor weekend. Not a fugitive road trip.” “Yeah, well, welcome to the goddamn program,” Jalen muttered. He hadn’t stopped shaking since they left the suite. Not from fear—at least not entirely. From the cold realization that the woman he kissed last night could have slit his throat in his sleep. Rico sat in the back, his usual bravado gone. “Yo, I ain’t even pack drawers, man. This is some Jason Bourne-level bull—” “Shut up, Rico,” Dez barked. “We’re almost there.” **7:58 AM – North Vegas Safehouse** The safehouse was nothing like the movies. No high-tech gadgets, no gun vaults, no digital screens. Just a one-story stucco building in a burned-out cul-de-sac, surrounded by cracked pavement and silence. Dez parked and cut the engine. “Everyone inside. Now.” An older man with a buzz cut and gold tooth opened the door. He wore a tan thermal, cargo pants, and a holstered SIG. His eyes locked on Dez. “You bring me heat?” “I brought you leverage.” “Shit. Come in.” Inside, the air was dry and smelled like gun oil and incense. The man, code-named *Monk*, was former CIA. Rumor was he went rogue after a black bag op in Somalia went south. Trey sat on a dusty couch. “He trustworthy?” “More than most,” Dez replied. “He saved my life in Afghanistan. Twice.” “Only once counts,” Monk muttered. “Second time was for fun.” Monk poured bourbon into cracked mugs. “Now. Who died, who did it, and how far up this rabbit hole we going?” Dez gave him the rundown. Eli Mercer. Genesis. The flash drive. Monk whistled. “You boys done stepped in international shit. That drive? It ain’t just banking fraud. It’s a hit list. Government names. Offshore networks. Shell companies. Someone paid Genesis to recover it before it went public.” Jalen slumped. “And we’re in the middle of it.” “No,” Monk said. “You’re on the edge of it. But if you stay here, you’ll get pulled into the center.” “So what do we do?” Malik asked. “We give her what she wants. A decoy.” **Elsewhere – 8:22 AM – Genesis** Genesis stood inside a luxury condo overlooking the Strip. She wasn’t hiding. She didn’t need to. She watched hotel surveillance footage on her phone—Jalen leaving the convenience store. Rico stumbling drunk. Dez moving with calculated awareness. Malik, always on the edge of panic. Trey, smooth as hell but clearly hiding something. She paused on Trey’s face. “You always were the clever one,” she murmured. Her burner phone rang. “Target is confirmed. They’re with Monk.” She smiled. “Time to pay an old friend a visit.” **Back at the Safehouse – 9:30 AM** Monk opened a metal trunk and pulled out five preloaded burner phones, fake IDs, and cash. “If you want to disappear, this’ll get you 48 hours max. After that, Genesis will find you, or worse—somebody else will.” Trey took one of the phones. “We’re not disappearing. We’re baiting her.” Dez raised an eyebrow. “Explain.” Trey stood. “Genesis doesn’t want us. She wants what Eli had. The real flash drive. What she got was a dummy. I’ve still got the real one.” Malik blinked. “Wait. You said—” “I lied. I kept it. I needed leverage.” “You used your friends as bait?” “No. I didn’t expect Eli to die. But now that we’re in it, I say we use what we have. We leak a portion of the drive to a journalist. A big name. Someone with reach. If Genesis takes us out, the rest of the files go public.” Monk nodded. “Smart. Old-school insurance.” Dez paced. “That’ll draw attention. From more than just her.” “Exactly,” Trey said. “The more eyes, the safer we are.” Jalen muttered, “Unless the eyes belong to someone who wants us dead.” **Flashback: 3 Years Ago – Morocco** Genesis leaned over a man tied to a chair. Blood dripping from his lip. “I’m not going to ask again,” she said. “Do your worst,” he muttered. She smiled—and slit his throat. A shadow moved behind her. Trey. “Was that necessary?” he asked. “He was bluffing.” “You could’ve called it off.” “You don’t win in our world by calling things off, Trey. You win by ending them.” **Present – 11:07 AM** Malik sat outside on the cracked porch, staring at the sky. “I don’t think I can do this.” Jalen joined him. “Do what?” “Marry someone. Start a life. Not after all this. What if she finds us? Finds her?” Jalen was quiet for a while. Then: “If she’s the one, she’ll understand.” Malik laughed. “You met my fiancée? She freaks out if I forget to floss.” “Then maybe she ain’t the one.” **1:35 PM – Henderson, NV – Underground Newsroom** Monk arranged a meeting with a retired Pulitzer winner named Sloane Ryder. The man looked like a weathered cowboy with a press badge, but he had connections from DC to Dubai. Dez and Trey handed over a limited batch of encrypted files. Shell company names. Political donors. Real estate empires linked to shadow networks. “You sure you want to leak this?” Sloane asked. “Leak it anonymously. With one quote: ‘The dead should not die in vain.’” Sloane raised a brow. “That a threat?” “It’s a warning.” **2:10 PM – Safehouse** Genesis pulled up in a blacked-out Benz. Alone. Monk saw her from the security cam and cursed. “She’s here.” “How the hell she find us?” Rico yelled. “Doesn’t matter. Get to the back room. Arm yourselves.” **Final Scene – 2:23 PM** The door exploded inward. Genesis walked through smoke and debris like a ghost, twin pistols raised. Dez fired first. She dodged, rolled, returned fire. Trey tackled her from the side. They crashed into the wall. Her elbow cracked his jaw. He went down hard. Jalen came up behind her—hesitated—then swung a bat. It connected. Genesis dropped. Panting, bleeding, the men stared at her body. “Is she dead?” Rico asked. Genesis opened her eyes, smiled through the blood, and whispered: “Not yet.” A distant siren wailed. Chapter 4: No Way Back The air in the safehouse crackled with tension as Genesis lay bleeding on the ground. Dez stood over her, gun still drawn, breathing hard. Her eyes—those cold, calculated eyes—remained open, even as blood pooled beneath her. "She’s still alive," Trey said, voice hoarse. "Barely," Dez replied. "We need to decide what the hell to do before she wakes up." Jalen slammed the door shut and dragged a heavy cabinet in front of it. "This place won’t hold if she brought backup." "She didn’t," Monk said. "She came alone. That's how you know she was serious. This was personal." Rico peeked through a crack in the boarded window. "Why do I feel like it’s about to get even more personal?" 3:01 PM – Safehouse Basement They moved Genesis to the basement, tied her to an old iron chair, and cuffed her ankles. Monk checked her pulse. "She’s tough," he muttered. "Most people would be dead." "She's not most people," Trey said. He leaned against the wall, cradling his bruised jaw. Malik hovered near the stairs. "We should call the cops. This has gone too far." Dez turned slowly. "And tell them what? That a group of Black men took down an international assassin in a dead man’s safehouse?" "He’s right," Monk added. "Cops come here, you don’t walk out. And neither do I." Malik rubbed his forehead. "I should’ve never come on this damn trip." Flashback: One Week Earlier – Chicago Malik sat with his fiancée, Kendra, flipping through wedding menus. Her voice was calm, controlled, but every suggestion came with a side of judgment. "Do you really want sliders at the reception?" "They’re just options." "Well, your mother thinks we should go with a seated dinner." Malik had smiled, nodded, played the part. But deep down, he felt it—the tight grip of a life he didn’t choose, only fell into. When Trey called and invited him to Vegas, it had felt like air. Like freedom. Now, that freedom was a coffin. Present – Safehouse Living Room Jalen lit a cigarette with shaking hands. Dez slapped it from his mouth. "You trying to give us away with smoke?" "We already kidnapped a woman and blew up a damn suite, Dez. What’s a little Newport gonna do?" Dez’s eyes narrowed. "We’re not criminals. Not yet." Trey leaned in. "That depends on what we do next." Basement – 4:12 PM Genesis stirred. Her head lolled, then rose. A wicked smile spread across her bloodied lips. "You boys don’t even know what you’ve done." Dez stepped forward. "You came at us. Killed Eli. Almost got us all killed. Why?" "You think this is about Eli?" she coughed. "He was a message. A warning. I was hired to clean up a leak. That drive was supposed to disappear. You boys made it louder." "Who hired you?" Trey asked. She laughed, then whispered, "You already know." Trey’s jaw tightened. "That’s impossible." "Nothing’s impossible in this game. Especially betrayal." Dez and Trey exchanged looks. "She’s lying," Dez said. "Maybe," Trey replied. "But if she’s not…" 5:00 PM – Henderson – Motel 6 Parking Lot Jalen met Sloane Ryder in a beat-up Toyota. "You leaked the files?" "The first batch. The world’s already buzzing. Someone will connect the dots soon." "Good. We’re running out of time." Sloane handed over a burner phone. "If they come for you, call this number. Use code phrase ‘Red River Rising.’ Got it?" Jalen nodded. As he walked back to the car, his stomach twisted. His phone buzzed. A voicemail from a blocked number: "You boys think you're safe? This is just the start." 6:17 PM – Safehouse Kitchen Rico was cooking eggs. "Y’all ever think about just leaving? Like really leaving? Starting over somewhere?" "Where?" Malik asked. "We got no IDs, no money." "Man, I got an uncle in Belize. He owe me. We disappear, start a bar, run a beach…" Dez sighed. "We’re not built to disappear. We settle this. Head-on." "You got a plan?" Trey walked in, holding a piece of paper. "I do. But we’re gonna need a favor. A big one." 7:23 PM – Downtown Vegas – Abandoned Casino They drove to the edge of the city, where a forgotten casino rotted beneath flickering signs. Dez met an old contact, Lena—tattooed, sharp-eyed, always two steps from breaking the law. "You boys must be real desperate to show your faces." "We need a plane. Small. Unregistered." "Where to?" "Mexico. Then we’ll disappear from there." Lena smirked. "It’ll cost you." Trey handed over a thumb drive. "Everything you need to retire twice. Just make sure that plane is fueled." Back at Safehouse – 8:45 PM Genesis sat in the dim basement, eyes closed, humming a lullaby. Malik stared at her. "You ever regret any of it? The killing? The chaos?" "No," she whispered. "Regret is for the living. I’ve been dead since I was sixteen." He stepped back, chilled to the bone. Final Scene – 10:00 PM They loaded up the Escalade. Genesis, unconscious again, was restrained in the back. Dez drove. Trey sat beside him, phone clutched tight. Rico checked his gun. "So what’s the plan when we land?" "We disappear," Dez said. "Change names. Erase who we were." "And if she wakes up mid-air?" Dez stared straight ahead. "She won’t." As they pulled into the private airstrip, two headlights flared behind them. A black SUV. Trey cursed. "We’ve got company." Gunfire erupted. The Escalade swerved. Malik screamed. "Go! Go! Go!" Dez punched the gas. Genesis opened her eyes. **Chapter 5: Blood and Sand** **10:03 PM – Private Airstrip, Las Vegas Outskirts** Bullets shredded the night. The black SUV behind them opened fire without hesitation. Dez jerked the wheel hard, swerving the Escalade through the airstrip gate, metal crashing as they broke through. The tires screeched over gravel, then screeched again as Dez spun them behind a rusted hangar for cover. “Everybody out!” he shouted. Trey kicked open the door, dragging Genesis’s unconscious body with him. Malik and Rico spilled out, guns drawn. Jalen grabbed the duffel bags, sweat dripping down his forehead. Dez ducked behind the hood and returned fire. “That ain’t no random cartel, y’all. Those are hitters. Professional.” Malik’s voice trembled. “How the hell did they find us this fast?!” “Because Genesis was bait,” Trey growled. “They let us think we had the upper hand.” More bullets rained down, pinging off metal, tearing into the concrete around them. Dez shouted into his radio. “Lena! We need that plane fired up now!” Her voice crackled back. “Two minutes! You better haul ass.” Trey turned to Jalen. “Can you carry her?” “Yeah.” “Rico, Malik, lay down suppressing fire. Dez and I will clear the path to the plane. Move on my count. One… two… three!” They exploded into motion. **10:09 PM – The Tarmac** Smoke clung to the air. The runway lights flickered weakly as Lena’s twin-prop plane roared to life. Dez ran low, zigzagging, taking out two of the attackers with pinpoint shots. Rico grunted, reloading. “They keep coming!” Malik yelled, “Trey! We’re not gonna make it!” But Trey wasn’t listening. He was locked in. He sprinted, covering Jalen and Genesis, as bullets zipped past his head. One caught Jalen in the thigh. He screamed but didn’t stop moving. “I got you, man!” Trey shouted, grabbing the duffel bags and helping hoist Genesis over his shoulder. Lena waved frantically from the plane door. “Let’s go, let’s go!” Dez tossed a flash grenade behind them. A white burst of light bought them precious seconds. The group climbed into the plane, panting, bleeding. Dez was last. A bullet slammed into his side just as he reached the hatch. He roared in pain but hauled himself in. Lena slammed the door. “Hold on!” The plane lurched forward, screeching across the tarmac. Behind them, the SUV exploded in flames as the attackers took a final shot at stopping them. They were airborne. **11:00 PM – In the Air** The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the drone of engines and Dez’s groaning. Rico pressed a towel to Dez’s wound. “It went through. Clean shot. But he’s losing blood.” Malik sat beside Jalen, whose leg was wrapped in gauze. Genesis was restrained again, still unconscious. Trey stared out the window, hollow-eyed. “This isn’t over,” he whispered. “Not even close.” **1:15 AM – Baja California, Mexico** The plane landed rough and fast on a hidden airstrip carved into the desert. Waiting for them: Lena’s contact, a grizzled ex-coyote named Diego, with two beat-up trucks. “We split up,” Dez grunted, barely able to walk. “Too risky to stay together.” “Where do we meet again?” Malik asked. Trey handed out burner phones. “We don’t. Not unless I say. Lay low. We’ll regroup if we can.” Everyone nodded. Rico looked down at Dez. “You gonna make it, man?” Dez grinned weakly. “I’ve had worse nights.” They loaded up the trucks. Within minutes, the men who had once joked about wedding speeches and hangovers were scattering across the desert in silence. **FLASHBACK: 6 Months Earlier – South Side Chicago** The group sat at Rico’s barbershop, ribbing each other, making wedding jokes, talking shit about old high school crushes. It was loud, it was raw, it was love. Dez raised a glass of Hennessy. “To brotherhood. To the ones who held you down when the world tried to drown you.” They clinked glasses. The past looked so much simpler. **Present Day – Ensenada, Mexico – 2 Days Later** Trey lay low in a beachfront shack. His beard was growing out. He checked his phone—still no word from Dez or Malik. Then, a text appeared from an unknown number: RED RIVER RISING He froze. A second later, a picture loaded. It was Genesis. Eyes open. Smiling. Holding a gun. Beside her: Lena. Dead. Trey dropped the phone. She was alive. And free. Chapter 5: Blood and Sand 10:03 PM – Private Airstrip, Las Vegas Outskirts Bullets shredded the night. The black SUV behind them opened fire without hesitation. Dez jerked the wheel hard, swerving the Escalade through the airstrip gate, metal crashing as they broke through. The tires screeched over gravel, then screeched again as Dez spun them behind a rusted hangar for cover. "Everybody out!" he shouted. Trey kicked open the door, dragging Genesis's unconscious body with him. Malik and Rico spilled out, guns drawn. Jalen grabbed the duffel bags, sweat dripping down his forehead. Dez ducked behind the hood and returned fire. "That ain't no random cartel, y'all. Those are hitters. Professional." Malik’s voice trembled. "How the hell did they find us this fast?!" "Because Genesis was bait," Trey growled. "They let us think we had the upper hand." More bullets rained down, pinging off metal, tearing into the concrete around them. Dez shouted into his radio. "Lena! We need that plane fired up now!" Her voice crackled back. "Two minutes! You better haul ass." Trey turned to Jalen. "Can you carry her?" "Yeah." "Rico, Malik, lay down suppressing fire. Dez and I will clear the path to the plane. Move on my count. One... two... three!" They exploded into motion. 10:09 PM – The Tarmac Smoke clung to the air. The runway lights flickered weakly as Lena's twin-prop plane roared to life. Dez ran low, zigzagging, taking out two of the attackers with pinpoint shots. Rico grunted, reloading. "They keep coming!" Malik yelled, "Trey! We’re not gonna make it!" But Trey wasn’t listening. He was locked in. He sprinted, covering Jalen and Genesis, as bullets zipped past his head. One caught Jalen in the thigh. He screamed but didn’t stop moving. "I got you, man!" Trey shouted, grabbing the duffel bags and helping hoist Genesis over his shoulder. Lena waved frantically from the plane door. "Let’s go, let’s go!" Dez tossed a flash grenade behind them. A white burst of light bought them precious seconds. The group climbed into the plane, panting, bleeding. Dez was last. A bullet slammed into his side just as he reached the hatch. He roared in pain but hauled himself in. Lena slammed the door. "Hold on!" The plane lurched forward, screeching across the tarmac. Behind them, the SUV exploded in flames as the attackers took a final shot at stopping them. They were airborne. 11:00 PM – In the Air The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the drone of engines and Dez’s groaning. Rico pressed a towel to Dez’s wound. "It went through. Clean shot. But he’s losing blood." Malik sat beside Jalen, whose leg was wrapped in gauze. Genesis was restrained again, still unconscious. Trey stared out the window, hollow-eyed. "This isn’t over," he whispered. "Not even close." 1:15 AM – Baja California, Mexico The plane landed rough and fast on a hidden airstrip carved into the desert. Waiting for them: Lena’s contact, a grizzled ex-coyote named Diego, with two beat-up trucks. "We split up," Dez grunted, barely able to walk. "Too risky to stay together." "Where do we meet again?" Malik asked. Trey handed out burner phones. "We don’t. Not unless I say. Lay low. We’ll regroup if we can." Everyone nodded. Rico looked down at Dez. "You gonna make it, man?" Dez grinned weakly. "I’ve had worse nights." They loaded up the trucks. Within minutes, the men who had once joked about wedding speeches and hangovers were scattering across the desert in silence. FLASHBACK: 6 Months Earlier – South Side Chicago The group sat at Rico’s barbershop, ribbing each other, making wedding jokes, talking shit about old high school crushes. It was loud, it was raw, it was love. Dez raised a glass of Hennessy. "To brotherhood. To the ones who held you down when the world tried to drown you." They clinked glasses. The past looked so much simpler. Present Day – Ensenada, Mexico – 2 Days Later Trey lay low in a beachfront shack. His beard was growing out. He checked his phone—still no word from Dez or Malik. Then, a text appeared from an unknown number: RED RIVER RISING He froze. A second later, a picture loaded. It was Genesis. Eyes open. Smiling. Holding a gun. Beside her: Lena. Dead. Trey dropped the phone. She was alive. And free. Bonus Chapter — Black Mirror Episode: “Last Night Out — The Replay” **Last Night Out** Neon haze of Vegas flickered through the cracked blinds of Malik’s dingy motel room. Five men. One bachelor party. One night that ended with blood on the Strip. But now—now it was all worse. Malik stared at the small device glowing on the table. The **Replay**. “Y’all remember how this trip went left?” Trey’s voice cracked through the thin walls via the encrypted group chat on their AR implants. “No way we’re going out like that,” Malik whispered. Dez swiped the Replay’s interface, bringing up a 3D reconstruction of the night’s chaos—car chases, gunfire, the safehouse standoff. Except this wasn’t just footage. This was a **digital ghost**: a fully immersive simulation of their last night, culled from their implanted cams, public security feeds, and the city’s omnipresent surveillance net. “I don’t wanna watch it,” Rico said, voice trembling. “It’s like reliving the nightmare.” “It’s the only way to find out who set us up,” Trey said. Malik hesitated, then nodded. They strapped on their AR gear, and the room dissolved. Vegas came back in agonizing detail—the shimmer of heat off the pavement, the smell of burnt rubber, the screams echoing through alleyways. But there was a glitch. A figure appeared in the shadows—someone not in their memories. Someone with a face too familiar. Genesis. But not the woman they had tied up in that basement. This Genesis was… different. Calm, collected, and watching. “Pause,” Dez commanded. They zoomed in on her eyes—glitches flickered beneath the surface like corrupted code. “She’s a program,” Malik said, heart pounding. “A digital echo. Someone hacked our memories… implanted a replay to trap us.” The room shuddered. A voice whispered through the AR interface: **“Welcome back, gentlemen. Ready to finish the game?”** In this world, trust was data. Friendship was code. And the bachelor party? A setup in a simulation designed to break them. Malik clenched his fists. “Then let’s rewrite the ending.” TO BE CONTINUED…
By Dakota Denise 7 months ago in Chapters
Every Day Is Theirs: A Heart’s Tribute to Our Parents Beyond One Day
✍️ By: Umair Ali Shah Yousafzai --- 🌸 Introduction: The Problem with “One Day” In an age where love has been reduced to emojis and celebrations are confined to trending hashtags, it’s become common to see people dedicate just one day a year to their parents — usually in the form of a well-edited photo, a generic social media caption, or a short video clip. "Happy Parents’ Day!" they declare, and with that, consider their duty fulfilled. But can one day capture the essence of lifelong sacrifice? Can a Facebook status outweigh a mother’s sleepless nights? Can an Instagram reel compensate for a father’s decades of toil? The answer — spoken by the heart — is a resounding no. Parents are not a seasonal celebration. They are the soul of our lives. They do not deserve a day; they deserve our every day, our every breath, our every success, our every prayer. --- 🕊️ A Love Beyond Comprehension Parental love is not poetic — it is prophetic. The mother’s womb becomes a sanctuary before we even open our eyes. Her body breaks to give us life. Her nights shatter so our dreams can form. Her meals go cold so ours stay warm. She becomes our shadow, our comfort, our shield. And the father? He becomes the silent mountain who absorbs the storm before it reaches us. He ages behind the curtain so we can grow on stage. His shoes wear thin so ours stay new. His pockets empty so our dreams can fill. His hands become rough while ours remain soft. Such love cannot be compared. It cannot be counted, priced, or postponed. It is as eternal as the sky — silent but all-encompassing. --- 🏠 From Cradle to Grave: They Gave Us Everything The truth is simple and painful: the very people who gave us everything, we give them the least. They carried us when we were weak. They taught us to walk, to speak, to eat. They encouraged our smallest achievements and bore our greatest failures. They forgave our rebellion, our rudeness, our rejection. They kept loving even when we didn’t love back. And what did they ask for in return? Nothing — except a little time. A little respect. A little remembrance. And yet, many of us fail even in that. --- 📅 One Day is Not Enough — It’s Almost Insulting Designating one day for parents is, in many ways, an insult wrapped in sentimentality. It suggests that gratitude can be scheduled, that love can be timed, that sacrifice can be acknowledged only when it's convenient. Do parents love only once a year? Do they support us only on Sundays? Do they pray for us only during exam season? No. Their love is relentless, their loyalty unconditional, their prayers eternal. Then how dare we give them just a day? --- 🕯️ Real-Life Reflections: Forgotten Candles of Our Lives Visit an old age home and you will see forgotten candles flickering dimly, waiting for someone to relight their flames. Mothers who once carried their children now carry loneliness. Fathers who once stood tall now sit silently by windows, hoping someone might knock on the door. "I gave him everything," says one mother, staring into her fading memories. "And now he sends money, but not himself." What do we owe them? Not riches. Not luxury. We owe them presence. We owe them honor. We owe them time. And if we fail to pay that debt in life, we will spend the rest of our lives repaying it in guilt. --- 🌙 The Islamic Perspective: A Duty, Not a Favor In Islam, honoring one's parents is not optional. It is second only to worshipping Allah. The Qur’an places “being good to parents” immediately after “worship none but Allah” (Surah Al-Isra, 17:23). > “And lower to them the wing of humility out of mercy and say: ‘My Lord, have mercy upon them as they brought me up [when I was] small.’” — (Qur’an 17:24)
By Umair Ali Shah 7 months ago in Chapters
