Track 39 Conor's Crooked Cooking

"AAAAHHHHHH!" Autxmn charged forward, flinging himself feet first. 

He slammed into the metal door, bouncing off it, and hit the ground with a thud. A low groan escaped his lips as he lay on his back, staring at the cold sky. 

"Autxmn, I'm seriously about to punch you in your shit right now. Stop being an idiot and use energy." Conor shook his head. The air vibrated and buzzed as his energy flared around him. With a single kick, the set of metal doors flew off their hinges, and he stomped into Stygian Tower. Most of the attendees had evacuated the first floor. The lights had dimmed significantly. The only sounds were the thumping of people walking above and light trumpets. 

"Lockdown is now over. I repeat, the lockdown is over." The robotic voice played throughout every room. 

The Parks and three of their bodyguards, Zoe, Mitani, and Gemo, all briskly walked down the twenty-third-floor hallway. From the twentieth floor to the twenty-fifth was known as the gambling sector, where all the betting, high-stakes casinos, auctions, and raffles took place. 

Zoe's eyes were wide, darting around wildly, nervous of everyone who passed. 

Olivia turned, watching the girl momentarily before sliding next to Ayla, saying, "Zoe, she's such a doll, but have you noticed she's quite idiosyncratic? Seems to have a touch of-"

"Mother! You are a terrible person!"

"Oh, you," she scolded, chuckling. Stumbling slightly, the bottle of alcohol stuck out of her purse, sloshing with every wobbly step. "Gemo, dear, slow down. You're walking too fast again...Now hold on…Alder?" She stopped walking, looking around. 

"What!" Alder practically skidded to a stop. He turned, annoyed. 

"What was the boy's name?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Darling," she groaned, "the cold, moody one that was around here. The fop…"

Alder threw his hands up in confusion. 

She snapped her fingers hurriedly in front of Zoe's face. "Help me out, dear. The one with the rings."

"Marcello?" Zoe offered, not entirely sure what Olivia was asking. 

"Yes! Finally. Where is he? I sent him to get a particular handbag from Ginger Academy upstairs." She reached in her purse, taking out the bottle and her phone. Before she had a chance to choose, Alder snatched the bottle from her grasp. "Huh," she muttered, her face scrunched in annoyance and confusion. "This thing isn't working. I was gonna call him, but no signal."

"Dude," Mitani said to Gemo, "Why is everything around here business as usual? There's a world war going on outside, and no one cares." He stared as people strolled blithely by. 

"Mitani, these are the greediest people on earth," Gemo said. "It's a bit dark, but it's not uncommon for people to lose their fortunes here. People have already invested so much money just getting here. They aren't going to leave until they feel like they've gotten their money's worth. "

"Wow, this is just…" He shook his head in disappointment. 

"Olivia, I don't care about the damn bag!" Alder snapped. He turned to Zoe, "You. Find her bag, please." He said, exasperated, clearly fed up with his wife. 

"I…" Zoe looked from Alder to the set of elevators and back toward him. "Okay," she said nervously. 

They all continued down the hallway, leaving Zoe alone. 

She felt like she was walking through a thick syrup. The closer she got to the elevator, the slower she felt. 

'They want me to get the bag, but what about Marcello? They said floor two, I think.'

"Hey, Conor!" Autxmn yelled, "Look at those guys!" He laughed. "The guy in the middle looks like this character from this manga I'm reading. Scarily accurate. Manga-people populating the world! How scary!"

"Hm?" Conor awkwardly stepped over an overturned table, entering the dining room. The song, 'Singing in the Rain,' played quietly from ceiling-mounted speakers. "Oh shit, that's crazy," he blinked, staring curiously at the stage, seeing The Chef and his kitchen staff who stood behind him, obediently awaiting his orders. "What do they want?"

Autxmn shrugged. 

"Yo, Autxmn, I'm pretty sure this dude's on the cooking channel. Remember that one lil' bitch I had, with like purple hair?"

Autxmn shrugged.

The Chef placed a hand in his apron pocket, feeling the kitchen knife. 'Eight-inch blade with a hammer finish and layered with Damascus steel.'

"Yeah, well, she was always watching that show, and I know damn well I've seen buddy right here." 

The Chef stomped the stage, then clapped his hands. The Staff braced themselves. 

Conor raised his eyebrows, seeing their energy illuminate the dim room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Autxmn's face break out in a child's grin—a face when they would get a new toy on Christmas. 

In a flash, Autxmn activated his energy and flung himself toward the stage.

"Oh!" Autxmn stumbled forward, falling on top of one of The Staff. He pulled his arm out of the gaping hole in the man's chest, staring at the chunks of bone and meat in his grip. "I…" Auxmn wavered, a look of disturbed confusion on his face, "For the longest time, I've been with the Silvios, training my energy with theirs. I was so excited. I guess I just forget how weak other people can be. I didn't even mean to kill you. I barely touched you, and you died." 

Too distracted, another member slammed him in the face with a meat tenderizer. The metal was coated with their energy, toppling the boy off the body and sending him into a nearby table. 

Conor reacted fast, sprinting up the center of the room. His cloudy energy swirled and stormed around him as he darted onto the stage. Like a frisbee, he threw a small engraved stone disk at the feet of those on stage. Several knives were flung at him but hung uselessly in the air, refusing to move. The third star of the tattoo'd Silvio Crest glowed on his hand, . 

"I'm the only one that gets to hit him!" The knives cut back into several of the kitchen staff. Conor bounded onto the stage, drop-kicking one in the chest, sending them flying back into the kitchen. They landed half-way inside a massive crockpot of boiling water and oil. Their energy flickered off as they slowly drowned in the scalding concoction, too injured to right themselves. Once Conor came to the realization, he couldn't help but laugh, he deactivated the ability, "You messed up big time. Y'all about to die, but just know it's stupid as fuck to attack someone like me when you clearly aren't even a battle-type!" 

The group attacked, swinging wildly at Conor. He was right about their actions being foolish, but still, he didn't want to get hit by their weapons. Because of the nature of energy, it would do little good to be overly cocky. 

The Chef turned. He didn't know how or when, but Autxmn had appeared next to him. The bright pink socks he exclusively wore slammed into his face. A roundhouse kick and his body was flung off the stage. 

This distraction allowed Conor to quickly kill the others. The last one alive chose to cut his own throat. 

Autxmn wiped his hands daintily on the white coat of The Chef, smearing the blood of his kitchen staff onto their leader. He admired his pink-painted fingernails after, making sure they weren't chipped or stained. "Phew." 

"Man, what's with that?" Conor said, scrunching his nose in disgust. 

Autxmn gave a big goofy grin, "What?"

"Let's just keep going," he said, changing the subject. "What're you about to do?"

"I wanna see the top floors. I bet it's so swell."

"Just stay on track."

Floor 99. 

The room, which was the meeting place of the four crime families that held, was surprisingly small. Four tall seats sat in a large circle spaced far apart, in the center a podium and a singular light overhead to illuminate the speaker. A dim red light danced like fire at the edges of the room. 

Two of the four members had left; one had evacuated, and the other had run to the 100th floor for protection. 

Gene Elara was fuming, cursing them. "Those absolutely spineless fucking stupid retarded-"

"Look," Gavin Moretti interrupted. "We might as well leave too. We can't get any signal, and the CCTV room isn't answering, as well as the guy who built the tower. I don't want to leave you here, but this is too much."

"You're such an idiot! We have over a thousand guards here. No one is getting through this!"

He stared at him for a while. It was obvious the guy was freaking out, beads of sweat on his brow, nervously twirling his curly hair. "The Bladed Three. You ever hear of them? I know they're in the city. I'll call them."

"I don't know what you're talking about. We don't even know who's with or against us."

"Kinda obvious it's the Silvios, ain't it? The Bladed Three, it's a group of assassins. There's three of them, obviously, and it's a family business. A father and his two sons. They've got over a thousand contracts completed between the three of them and a perfect completion rate."

He took a deep breath, sincerely asking, "You really think they're necessary?"

"I wouldn't be suggesting them if I thought what was happening was just some bullshit. It's their job to deal with issues like this." Trying to uplift the cold room, he said, "Like you said, we have a lot of guards. This is just for peace of mind."