Case 5: Liquid Courage

'Nine o' eight, nine o' nine, nine ten A.M.! I love you Diablo, but we really need to get going. Evil never sleeps. I guess you're the only evil one who does. Haha!' Diego thought to himself.

Almost like a machine, the bedside drawer on Diego's side changed its shape step-by-step. It revealed, or presented, a medium sized phone in a sky blue case with a few black markings.

Diego reached for his phone on top of the bedside table, "Catter, please make the alarm louder than usual. Even I was tired from the last mission, your mother must be in a coma-like sleep. Don't worry about his temper. I'll make him some of his favourite foods for breakfast. And don't forget to join us for breakfast too. Love you dear <3," he texted.

"You better make sure mom doesn't get angry then. You know he's scarier than anyone when he's denied his sleep. Also, Dad. Please stop with the emojis, it's embarrassing. You already express a lot with your — somewhat blank — face." Catter replied. "*Sob, sob*"

Diego smirked, and put his phone back on the bedside table. He put his hand on Diablo's arm, rocking it with great care. Diablo scrunched his face and groaned. He shoved Diego's hand away from him and burrowed deeper into the bed's blankets and sheets.

Diego rummaged through the bed and put his hand on Diablo's arm one more time, using a little more strength than before. A swift shock coursed through Diablo's body. He used all the strength left in his half-asleep body to open his eyes, face scrunched so much it's comparable to the crimson rose's hair.

"I'm up, I'm up! Don't shake me. You'll put me in a coma for a week like last time," Diablo exclaimed, out of breath.

Diego chuckled, patting Diablo's unruly hair. Diego pointed towards the alarm clock. It ticked and tocked its way to nine o' fifteen during the time the family got ready to wake up.

Diego got off the bed and went to the bathroom, prepped the hot tub and took medical items from the medicine cabinet. He went back to the bedroom and saw a small man, moving at a glacial pace. Diego walked up to him and gave his partner a tight squeeze, burying Diablo's head in his arms, his face in his chest. Diablo grumbled, he struggled against a clingy Diego's hug. Free from Diego's clutches, Diablo walked towards the bathroom, with heavy steps and eyebrows scrunched. Diego followed behind.

Diablo walked into the shower and bathed in the icy cold water. He moved as the stream struck his head, then his face, then his chest. He looked at his chest, the mark on it catching his eye. A mark of a black thorn, similar to that of the black rose stem around Diego's neck. He touched it, then jumped to Diego's grumbling.

Diablo got out of the shower, Diablo waiting for him just outside the door. They looked at each other.

"It's nothing. Just thinking about our curses," Diablo said.

Diego takes Diablo's hand and puts it to his neck, then his own hand to Diablo's chest.

Diablo let out a sigh, "Alright. Let's get ready then."

The duo walked to their walk-in closet together and got dressed up.

Diego stood in front of an empty row. He stood only for a moment then the drawer changed its shape. After a few seconds, it presented tops, bottoms, underwear, socks, shoes, and so much more, most of them in shades of blue. Just one thing, to the side an isolated peacoat. He put on an admiral-blue dress shirt. Buttons at the brink of giving up its job from his built torso, leaving the collar button and the two upper buttons open. His sleeves took the shape of his well-defined muscles. Mocha-brown jeans hugging his firm legs. Plain white socks and prussian-blue high-tops covered his feet. He donned his signature piece, a tattered navy blue peacoat.

Diego rummaged through his peacoat as the closet changed its shape again. Beheld an item, Diego took a pair of size 7.5, white cotton gloves and put it in one of the pockets in his peacoat.

Diablo's shapeshifting closet dressing right next to him presented clothes and accessories, all in neutral colours. Diablo took a white, long sleeve shirt that covered his slim body. He wore black jeans with a black, metal belt that strapped itself into the belt holes, leaving a few inches of the belt hanging from behind for style. Plain white socks and strapped, black chelsea boots ate his small feet. Put on his black leather gloves and signature tattered black trench coat. Putting a pair of size 8.5, white gloves in one of his coat's pockets in secret.

The two looked at each other, ready to eat breakfast after that long description and narration that the author didn't know how to deliver better.

Both of them took their own phones from their bedside tables and went down the flight of stairs to the ground floor, all the lights in their room automatically turning off as they closed the door.

Diego cooked pancakes, bacon, eggs, and rice. Diablo made coffee with creamer for Diego and a cup of extra sweet milk for himself. The two served what they made and helped each other put plates and utensils as well as the butter and syrup for the pancakes and ate to their heart's content.

The circular glass table changed shape, a glass pane appeared in front of the couple's food. It revealed all the things they have to do, with one heart icon at the bottom right corner.

Mouth half-full, Diablo mumbled, "Thanks, Catter."

"Don't talk when your mouth is full," Catter replied.

Diego chuckled. Diablo rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth curved upwards.

They finished their meal and tidied the kitchen and table. The kitchen sink shapeshifted into cleaning the dishes mode, whatever that is. The duo, prepared for the unknown, headed outside the mansion.

Main doors opened. Diablo stepped behind Diego, intercepting the cold air. The two walked out and the doors closed by themselves. Diego took the stairs while Diablo had the energy to take the ramp. Once Diablo got down, they met the same silver car that drove itself last time. The car doors opened, the duo got in, and they headed for their next destination, Fallacy. A club of sorts, but still has a great reputation.

The duo arrived, got out of the car, and the car drove into the distance. The bouncer in front of the entrance recognized the roses and let them in, no questions asked.

"Sir Anghel should be in the main hall dear roses," the bouncer said.

"Thanks," Diego replied.

The two walk into the club where great weirdness awaited them. Filled with people, and drinks, and drinks, and people, so much people. A black fog covered the club floor, emanating from a fog machine apparently used by the club at all times.

They spotted a single man wearing white, their target. The white man faced the other way, so he didn't know the duo came for him. Nonetheless, the man felt something peculiar. He put his glass down and walked towards the bathroom. Once he was out of the crowd, he ran as fast as he could to the club's guard station.

About to smash the door down from fear of getting caught. To his horror, the man felt a familiar hand on his shoulder. He turned around, a few sweat drops dropped from his forehead down to his chin.

The man laughed, weak, "Hey Diego, hey Diablo. Didn't see you there."

Diego's eyebrows furrowed, "Out of all the places Anghel, I swear to God I don't even know if you're older than us or not."

"I don't get drunk and we're rich. A few drinks won't hurt." Anghel furrowed his eyebrows, smiling. "Besides, you can make a lot of good connections in bars."

Diablo's voice grew weak, "Bars of jails, you mean. Anyway, we're not here to scold you. Someone's targeting you, you need to be careful."

"Who?" Anghel asked.

"Never you mind about that. The less you know, the better." Diablo said.

Anghel squinted at his two younger brothers, "Fine." He sighed. "I'll give you a tour while you're here. You could meet new peopl — I mean — you could meet new connections."

The duo drilled holes at their embarrassed elder brother and walked around. Neon lights lit the club and the smell of wine filled the place. The dance floor lights pierced through the black fog. They end up sitting at one of the bars. Anghel, granted permission to man from behind, poured a few drinks for the three of them. Diego only stared at the drink in front of him while Diablo played with his own.

Diablo, stirring his white alcoholic beverage, "I really hate the black fog prop. So unoriginal"

Diego patted himself down and took out a small notebook and mini pen from one of his peacoat's pockets and gave it to Diablo. Diablo took it, glaring at Anghel, and started scribbling

"They didn't mean to — um — they just wanted to be different. They wanted something like fog that wasn't white. They said someone — SAW — black fog somewhere. They wanted to recreate it and use it as 'ambience'." Anghel said, taking a sip of a concoction he made.

Diablo, eyes furrowed, firmed his grip and blacked his drawing with the pen. He caped the pen and ripped the page of the notebook. Gave the notebook and pen back to Diego and crumpled the page he had in his hands.

He gestured to Anghel to come closer and Anghel obeyed. Diablo showed the crumpled paper into Anghel's dress shirt, patting his chest so it looks flat.

Anghel rolled his eyes, "I'm not your butler you know."

Diablo smiled and the lights went out.

"And there it is," Diablo whispered in the darkness.

"Finally"