Prologue

2021 Agbaje Michael Adeyinka/ TheBlackbird/ Ravenaelwood/ Raven_ael/ Raven Aelwood/TheBlackbird2579.

All rights reserved. Agbaje Michael Adeyinka is the exclusive owner of this book 'Fallen Lotus: The legends of Xiao Xue'. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the copyright holder. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. For permissions contact, enquires or information requiring the distribution of this intellectual property, please send a mail at: adeyinkaagbaje2016@gmail.com

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Any perceived slights to specific people or organizations are unintentional and completely coincidental.

_

Aeons gone rogue. The gloom and cold stratus,

A world of Chaos, gales of mortality overrule.

Zephyr, then tumble, A pure lone drifting lotus,

Falls and soaks maroon, in a roadside pool.

-Ravenaelwood

...

"…Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white," Chris recited, muttering the meandering sonnet under his breath as he flipped a filleted fish in a pan. Hot oils sizzled within. "Nor praise in the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight. Drawn after you, your pattern of all those. Yet seem'd it winters still, and, you away, as with your shadow I with these did…"(1)

He trailed off.

[Did it end with lay or play?] Chris asked himself. [Eh], he shrugged, [I'd figure it out later.]

He flipped the fillets a second time, watching it for a moment before removing it to the serving platter. He turned off the heat with one hand, and with the second he flicked a tablespoon of butter into the hot skillet. A dash of lemon juice, capers, liquid and all, he whisked before serving the meal with a thin sauce.

"Bon Appetit," he mumbled to himself as he walked out of the kitchen with his meal. His muffled footsteps echoed off the wooden floorboards.

His meal in hand, he flopped onto the couch before reaching for the remote by his side.

He tapped on the power button, but surprisingly got no response. Chris tapped again to be sure before sighing as he tossed the device aside.

"Guess the TV is broken as well now," he muttered, glancing spitefully at the dude sprawled uselessly on an adjacent couch. The individual's nose twitched at the smell of Chris' food. He stirred on the furniture but ultimately failed to awaken.

Chris shook his head and sighed, annoyed, but too lazy to get angry. He lifted his hips, reaching into the back pocket of his trousers to pull out his cell phone.

Forking a fillet into his mouth, his other hand fiddled idly with the device.

A while later, the door clicked open and a girl around his age walked in. She was of average height, slightly overweight with her brown hair tied up in a messy bun. Her bluish eyes squinted in a scowl.

His housemate's gaze scanned the living area as she walked in. Her edgy gaze skimmed over Chris and hovered on his half-finished meal for a moment, before settling on her boyfriend snoring on the couch.

Chris noted her scowl deepened somewhat at the sight.

"The TV is broken," Chris announced offhandedly, forking another fillet into his mouth.

Ann's scowl deepened even more as she gazed at her boyfriend. She held the expression for a few seconds before sighing resignedly.

"Flounder?" his housemate asked. turning towards Chris. Her gaze fixated greedily on his meal.

"Yes?" Chris asked in return, moving his meal away warily. "So, what if it is?"

The two held each other's gaze for a few seconds.

"Ah… Fine," he sighed, relenting. He reluctantly handed over his leftovers which she snatched and dug into with great gusto.

"You look starved," he deadpanned as she inhaled the food.

"I am," she replied between bites, "this is the only real meal I have had all day. That bitch Sasha decided to bail on us today, so—"

"I never asked," Chris replied, cutting her off as he picked up his cell phone and left for his room.

"You're a dick, you know!" his roommate shouted behind him as he jogged up the stairs, inadvertently waking up her boyfriend.

"Oh, Ann,' he mumbled in a daze from where he lay. "You're back?"

"Yes, I am back!" she lashed out at him in annoyance. "I am not blind; I can see that."

"Hey! What was that for?" he protested.

Whatever argument that came afterwards was lost to Chris as he scampered away, not wanting to be dragged into whatever was brewing between the couple.

He entered his room and locked the door behind him before making a beeline for his desk. Sliding into the seat, he tapped on his keyboard. The computer hummed to life―its internal fan whirring softly in the background―as the screen brightened with the appearance of a lock screen.

With a flare of his fingers, he unlocked the computer and launched a search engine. Pausing for a moment, he reached into his pocket to pull out a milky bead-like object. He hummed contemplatively as he examined the object for a few moments before placing it aside, turning his attention back to his computer.

Pearls, he typed into the search engine. Moments later, multiple images of pearls popped up on the screen.

"Close enough," he mumbled, comparing the milky bead-like object to the images on his screen. How much is a single pearl worth? He typed, deleting his previous search.

Scanning through the results he paused as a thought crossed his mind. [Do flounders eat pearls?]

The search results were… Unsatisfactory.

Undeterred, he continued his search. Gradually, he lost sight of his original goals as he fell deeper and deeper into the sinkhole known as the internet.

A while later…

After finishing an impromptu course on flounder biology and the origin of pearls, Chris looked up to discover three very important things.

One, nearly four precious hours had silently slipped away. Two, he had spent these hours on a completely pointless endeavour and three, his migraine had begun to act up again; The result of his sudden bout of foolishness.

Chris exhaled, staring blankly at his screen for a few moments. Then with a heavy sigh, he turned off the computer before reaching for a bottle of Excedrin on the lampshade by his bed.

He shook the plastic bottle to discover he was out. Again.

[The fuckin' third time this month,] he thought, [I swear they don't make these things like they used to anymore…]

With another heavy sigh, he stood up from the seat with a stretch, before reaching for a jacket and his car keys among the disorganised pile on his bed. He walked towards the door before pausing, hesitantly turning back to the 'pearl' he left on the table.

[Better safe than sorry,] he thought, backtracking to stuff the object in his trouser pocket.

He opened the door and walked out of the room. In the living area, he found his housemate fiddling with the TV. He raised a brow curiously at the sight. His gaze reflected his desire to seek understanding of what she planned to achieve by doing that, but he was too lazy to act on the impulse.

He looked around to find that her boyfriend was nowhere to be found, probably off on some 'real estate business' again. Chris sighed, hoping not to be forced to have another argument with him on the issue of bringing his drug stashes into the house… Or anywhere within fifty meters of the building.

Chris walked out of the building towards the driveway where he hopped into a red Toyota.

He pulled out to notice the gas tank was almost on E again. (2)

"Guess I probably should stop at the gas station," he mumbled, tapping a finger on the steering wheel before turning on the radio. He tuned the channels for a while before settling on one that was currently playing some sad rap.

A while later, he took a left into the gas station and pulled up to a pump. While he was pumping, he glanced at his ashtray, remembering he also needed to get cigarettes. He parked and walked inside before pausing.

[I might also need to grab something to eat and drink, I guess. Maybe a bag of chips and a can of cola? Or should I get a cocoa bar? Hmm…]

Chris walked to the candy aisle, his eyes scanning the shelves as he reached out to grab a few snacks. He turned around towards the fridge, pulling out a can of cola and bottled water.

Tossing everything into a basket, he hears an incoherent yell at the front of the store.

Frowning, he shut the fridge's door before walking towards the counter.

With his drinks and snacks in hand, he hears another shout, "Hey! Open up the drawer!"

Curiously, he peeks around the aisle. The cashier had his hands in the air and a masked man pointed a gun to the fellow's forehead.

Chris backpedalled behind cover. His heart pounded.

"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself, bewildered.

"Where's my cell phone at?" he asked himself as he searched his pockets, only the 'pearl', his car keys and ATM card were on him.

[Did I leave it in the car? Fuck!]

Out of options, he glances towards the exit before peeking at the cornered cashier.

[Sorry buddy,] he thought, his mind made up. He dropped the shopping basket as quietly as he could before crawling towards the exit.

Behind the aisle, Chris could hear the masked man's growls.

"Open the fucking drawer!" the voice yelled.

"It's opened!" the cashier yelled back in panic. "It's opened!"

Clink!

The store fell silent with the sound of a can falling on the tiled floor. Chris' jacket knocked over a can of beans. It got very quiet. All three men froze.

Chris glanced at the can, somehow managing to glare gloomily despite his trembling body.

[Fuck!] He thought.

[Fuck!]

[Fuck, fuck, fuck!]

He heard footsteps approaching him.

"Don't fucking move." The robber threatened the cashier. "Just do what I say. if you even think of trying to pull a fast one on me, I promise you'll be sorry."

[Fuck!] Chris thought again, the sound of cautious footsteps approaching.

"Hey! You there! Come out!" the robber called a fair distance from behind the shelves, still training his pistol on the cashier.

And out Chris came, tossing a can of beans he snatched off the shelves at the robber's face before moving to tackle him. He missed but managed to force the robber to lean out of the way, messing with his aim and leaving himself open to Chris' charge.

Unbalanced, the robber aimed his pistol at Chris and shot. The bullet grazed Chris' upper thigh, a few inches to the right from his crotch.

Chris rammed into the larger individual, his lithe form hanging off the robber's neck. He squeezed the masked man's throat, trying desperately to subdue the fellow. The robber retaliated with an elbow jab, hitting Chris in the nose. Blood leaked all over his clothes.

He tried not to let go, but his hands began to slip and bullets started to fly.

He fell. His vision swam.

Chris lay sprawled on the floor, disorientated.

A person, another robber, enters.

He runs inside, shouting, "What the fuck, dude? Where's the money? Did you get the money? Where's the bag you brought?"

"I… don't know," the other replied through ragged breaths. "I think it's still behind the counter.

"Is that the Cashier? You shot him?"

The first robber growled in affirmation. "He had a gun."

"Fuck that. Who's this?" the newcomer asked as he grabbed Chris' shoulders, rolling him onto his back.

Chris' vision swam as he took in the robber's features. Their eyes met and Chris' jaw dropped.

That glare. That voice.

The robber, although masked, the shirt he's wearing was the same one he had on this morning.

Staring into Chris' eyes, Chris knew he knew he knew.

The robber chuckled with a hint of mirth.

Embarrassed, Ann's boyfriend towers over Chris' prone form and says.

"Sorry bruv, but I don't have a choice."

To his head, Chris screams. [You can't be serious!]

His housemate's boyfriend shakes his head and says, "I'm sorry," then the gun—

Bang.

Bang.

Bang, bang.

Bang.

…

A pistol clattered on the floor.

"Are… you, ok?" The cashier asked, falling to his knees as he fumbled to reach for his phone in his jean pocket. His left hand on his torso, stemming a bloody wound.

Chris runs over to him, grabs his phone and tries to help him up.

"You okay, bro?" he asked as he dialled the emergency line.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

"There's been a robbery, the cashier was shot, he needs an ambulance," Chris said, holding the phone to his ear. "He looks kind of pale; I think he might've lost a lot of blood."

"Okay, help is on the way, has anybody else been injured?"

"Yeah, the robbers, there were two of 'em"

"Can you tell me their condition? Are they still alive?"

"Well, I'm not sure, but they don't look so good," Chris said, glancing at the bodies. Two pairs of lifeless eyes stared out blankly into space.

"I'm pretty sure they're dead," he said after a moment. "Yeah, I think they're dead"

"Alright, take a deep breath. Everything's going to be okay, you're going to be alright."

…

A while later…

"That would be all, Mr Efron," an officer said to Chris as he scribbled a report. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Chris nodded. "Can I leave now?" he asked, staring blankly at the 'pearl'. He rolled the blood-stained object between his fingers feeling a strange warmth radiating.

[Hmm...]

[Do pearls generate heat? Eh,] he shrugged, [I'd figure it out later.]

Sirens and the chatter of conversations droned on in the background. The store-turned-crime-scene was alight with activity. Police officers spread out caution tapes and medical personnel carried the corpses out of the building on stretchers. The cashier was receiving first aid in the back of an ambulance. Their eyes met and Chris exchanged a nod of acknowledgement.

"Sure," the officer said before glancing at his bandaged thigh. "But are you sure you don't want to head to the hospital first though?"

"Nah," Chris said dismissively. "Your friends in white checked it out 'ready. It's not as bad as it looks."

"Will leave a scar though…" the officer trailed off as he turned back to his report.

Chris shrugged as he propped himself up from his seat in the back of a police car with a single crutch before limping towards his Toyota.

"Thanks."

"No problem. You take care, alright."

"Sure."

Chris fiddled with his car door for a moment before it popped open with a welcomed click. He slid into the driver's seat and noticed the 'pearl' starting to get hotter. [Hmm…]

He emptied his ashtray before tossing it inside to observe it.

[Hmm… Not suspicious. Not suspicious at all.]

After a while, he gave up on examining the 'pearl' and started the vehicle's ignition before pulling out of the gas station.

[I should probably call Ann... Nah, I will talk to her when I get home. Am I forgetting something? Oh, right, I am out of Excedrin. To the pharmacy then.]

He drove for a few moments before stopping at a traffic light. It was then he noticed the soft glow from his ashtray. The 'pearl' glowed dimly with a crimson lustre. Chris reached for it but froze feeling the smouldering heat emanating from the object.

[Huh, This is… bad?]

Suddenly the 'pearl' flared with a blinding luminosity. Chris panicked. He reached for the door to pry it open.

It didn't budge. He was trapped.

Moments later, without even getting the chance to think properly, he hears screams from outside his car. He looked up to see pedestrians scrambling away from the vicinity.

Time seemed to slow down. It was then that he saw it.

A truck barreling uncontrollably down the adjacent street before veering off course—as if nudged by an unseen force—In his direction.

As he stared at the oncoming vehicle, he seemed to see the truck's grill curl slightly. A smirk? (3)

[…What the fuck—]