A Band Of Misfits

Eric didn't know how much time had passed since he left Oakwood Park to avoid any encounter with the police, but darkness already filled the sky when he weaved through the shopping district bustling with people. Customers and vendors chattered like an out of tune orchestra, reminding him of the first time he played guitar with his old bandmates. It's a funny disaster.

His shoulder ached from the impact of Daniel's body against him earlier, and each accidental bump of a random passerby he met on the way made him grit his teeth. By the time Eric reached the place he's currently staying at located inside Aereo Public Market, his feet were screaming in pain from all-day long of walking.

'Broken Melodies' was a two-story music store owned by a friend situated between a cafe and a flower shop. It had thick glass door and walls in order to showcase the different musical instruments they're selling inside like an inviting buffet. Unfortunately, the store wasn't doing well these days.

Glancing to the side before he pushed the glass door opened, Eric's mysophobic senses tingled at the sight of coffee stains at the junction of Broken Melodies and CafeGraphy. He glared at the chattering customers, all the while thinking of how to obliterate the cafe next door. Their unhygienic practices were a pain in the ass to deal with sometimes.

"Welcome to Broken Melodies!" a girl with bright pixie-cut pink hair greeted Eric as he walked inside. "How can I help — oh! Eric!"

"Yo, Mimi."

Mimi sashayed towards him, her hips swaying like a pendulum as if she's doing a catwalk on a runway or something. She had an arm raised, expecting a high five until she got a closer to look at him and a frown appeared on her dolled-up face. "What happened to your nose?"

"Nothing. Just got involved in a fight."

"Grandpa problems?"

Eric's aggravated shoulders slumped as he reached the door that read, 'staff only,' and sighed. "More like a random punk started making garbage rain, and it pissed me off. Where's Zen?"

"In his sanctuary, where else?" Mimi said. "Want me to grab some painkiller at the nearby pharmacy after I close the shop?"

"Sure. Whatever. Get us some beer too while you're at it."

"You're still too young to drink, Eric."

"I'm turning eighteen. Shut up."

Mimi's giggles followed him even after he closed the door. The pink-haired girl was in charge of customer service since she's excellent communicating with people. Although, that's most likely because she once worked as a hostess in a nightclub that had been shut down by the government.

Eric's meeting with her was almost similar to what happened today. Except, Mimi had a group of raunchy clientele from the nightclub trailing after the sex service she never wanted to do in the first place. Jobless and having no place to go to, Eric brought her over at Zen's music store to start a new life.

"Why does it look like a hurricane ransacked this place?" Eric said, rolling his eyes at the scattered boxes on the floor, which was the exact opposite of the neat musical space he emerged from.

After walking past a staircase, he skittered across the room and into the end hall where an old piano was situated. He pressed several keys, his fingers gliding up and down with precision, filling the void with classical music.

As soon as he finished playing, a secret door opened behind him. He walked down the flight of stairs leading to an underground room. Dim blue lights flooded the entire space, with several screens plastered on the wall, its operator nowhere to be seen.

"Don't make me punch a hole in your head, Nightwalker," Eric said as a hooded person crept behind him like a freaking blood sucker.

Zen clicked his tongue. "You're no fun."

Eric ignored him and flicked the lights open, earning a protest from the gothic vampire enthusiast. With an exasperated eye-roll at all the vampiric-theme accessories Zen bought from the Black Market, Eric plopped down on a rotating chair and swiveled to face his childhood friend.

"So... who bashed your face and let you live?" Zen asked as he pulled down his hood. Navy hair framed his handsome pale face, and a pair of stylish cross earrings donned both his ears.

If Eric found a bottle of blood inside the room, he would smash Zen's head with it. Like seriously, he's done with his shit. But he didn't find any, thank god, so Eric slumped on the chair instead, exhaustion weighing him down. "I encountered an ability user today."

Eric ended up retelling the fight to Zen. If he's being honest, his victory against Sai was pure luck. Kinetians were a terrible match up to close combatants like him since they can assault even from a distance. It just happened that the Military Reservist was too simple-minded that he outsmarted him.

"How's the progress with my guitar case?" Eric asked.

"Almost done," Zen said, walking over a guitar case covered with black adamantine metal. Its design resembled a vampire casket, tempting Eric to throw Zen inside it and deliver him straight to the church tomorrow morning. Zen only smirked, as if sensing the dark thoughts swirling inside his head. "I will complete it exactly on the Autumn Festival."

"I know you mean the Naked Festival."

Zen sniggered. "You going?"

"Yeah," Eric said. "I'll stop by the Basilica before naked people started crowding it."

"Still praying Keith will grant you access to psychic energy?"

"Better than sucking Noble asses to gain powers that belong to me in the first place."

Zen didn't argue, knowing too well he was right. As a former priest in-training, Zen had knowledge of the secret the Church of Tria Persona was hiding to the public. For centuries, they've disguised it as baptism. But in truth, it's just a way to seal the three energy containers; the Mind, the Heart, and the Body, disabling anyone from using them until they've sworn their life to the Royal Family.

Eric could only sneer in disgust to their perfect monopoly. With a shake of his head, he marched back upstairs at the sight of Mimi's pink hair on the store's security footage, holding a bag of canned beverages.

[11:02 PM, Leo 27, C-2025]

It's almost midnight. After a cold shower and scrubbing himself clean until he removed the last particle of grime from his skin, Eric made his way to the Broken Melodies' second floor in a plain forest-green shirt and loose trousers.

Gazing up, he leaned his elbows on the metal rails, a can of beer in hand. His bruises and wounds had been patched, and the painkillers Mimi bought eased the persistent soreness on his left shoulder.

"Hands up." A metallic object was pointed at him, poking his back. "You're under arrest for underage drinking."

Eric shoved the pitch black parasol pressed to his still damped hair then rolled his eyes. "It's just beer."

Zen sniggered, opening a can of beer for himself. He rested his back on the balcony and looked up at the star-filled sky, a light breeze ruffling their hair. "Your brain's a raging storm again."

"Not really."

"Idiot."

"Stupid." Eric took a swig on his beer, dousing his throat with the fermented malt, its bitter aftertaste barely tickling his mouth. "Any news you may have gathered about Arman?"

"Same old." He meant there's no news at all. "Your brother must have not wanted to be traced."

"Do you think he's still alive?"

Zen gulped his beer in one go. "I know you want reassurance, 'Ric, but you're asking the wrong person."

Eric smiled, downing the rest of his beverage. His friendship with Zen had always been a complicated one. They'd throw insults at each other, go on for months without talking, but he knew they will always have each other's back.

Five bottles of beer later, Eric finally felt tipsy. Zen had gone back to his room since he can't handle his liquor, just as Eric does. When the clock struck twelve, he decided he's had enough and exited the balcony. Suddenly, a strumming sound reached his ears.

Eric trudged inside and passed by his old room, its door slightly ajar. Inside the room was a green-haired boy sat cross-legged on the mattress with a bass guitar cradled on his lap and a chord chart in front of him. For a split second, he saw a young image of himself covered in bandages, seeking solace in the melody of his guitar.

Deo was the fourth addition in the music band he's trying to build. He's a homeless sixteen-year-old boy who has been hanging out with the wrong people in order to survive. After Eric beat the shit out of him along with his local gang, Eric made a ridiculous offer to Deo and dragged his ass to Broken Melodies.

With a smile, Eric turned away and went to the stairs, the wooden steps creaking from his weight.

"Eric?"

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up. His vision spun a little. "'Sup?"

Deo's lanky figure stood by the stair's upper level, the bass guitar slung over his shoulder. "N-nothing. I just thought I heard you come in." He turned to the side and scratched his head. "By the way, I borrowed the bass from the shop."

"Cool. Keep it up." Eric covered his mouth to suppress a yawn. "I'm going to sleep. Night."

"Eric, wait!" Deo padded back to his room with hasty steps then rushed downstairs to hand an envelop to Eric. "Uhm... A man came earlier and asked me to hand this over to you."

A man.

Eric narrowed his eyes at the suspicious-looking envelop. It was scented and holy fuck, what's with the stupid heart stamp? With a drunken scowl, Eric handed it back to Deo. "Is this a joke? I don't have time for this shit."

"Ah... He said it's important."

"No."

"He said he met you at the park today."

Eric met many people at the park today and his intoxicated mind had no interest to know which one of them sent a ridiculous love letter, especially from a man of all people. Just because he grew his hair up to his shoulder didn't mean—!

"Eric, look." Deo had taken it upon himself to open the envelop and shoved a piece of paper in his face.

No. It's not just a paper.

Eric stilled as he grabbed the photograph of his brother wearing a navy blue military uniform. He flipped it and read the slanted penmanship written at the back: 'would you like to know where your brother is?'