All You'll See Is Me Breathing Fire

“Can I blow her fucking head off now?” Cher asked, tapping Ashley’s temple with the barrel, like a cat nudging a glass to the edge of a table.

“No… not yet…” I said, leaning my shoulder against the wall, my head was resting on the door. Everything was getting darker—yeah, power’s out, but this was weird. “We fixed one problem, not the whole shitshow…”

“So what’s your genius plan, then? ‘Cause you’re gonna bleed out slumped there,” Cher said.

“Heh… Rico’s finger’s still holding… I’ll think of something… just keep her pinned…” I said, forcing myself up with damn near inhuman effort.

Something was off. Not my first bullet, not my first searing pain... so why now, why this edge-of-the-abyss feeling?
I locked eyes with Ashley as I stood. Did my best to hide it from Cher, but I knew her—she’d read me like a book already.

“Listen, no matter what she says, keep her there. Killing her’ll bury us neck-deep in more shit. Picture all those homoerotic thugs downstairs scrapping for her ‘vacant spot.’”

“Why are you making me picture homoerotic blokes? That kiss do something to you, huh?” Cher shot back.

“I'm not in the mood for explaining that…” I muttered, dragging one foot forward, leaning on the wall to keep myself from collapsing. “Gonna check what the fuck Aya’s doing.”

“Ah... Worried?”

“Nah, she’s just useful. Don’t want her dropping from a heart attack or some shit…”

Picture this: Shitty genereic phone alarm blares, you’re thirty minutes late for work. You bolt out half-dressed—no face wash, no brushing teeth, no breakfast, not even water.
Hit the street, and 100 degree heat bitchslaps you like Mike Tyson high on cocaine.

Was it getting darker?
Brighter?
What the fuck was this buzzing in my head?
Why were my legs tingling?
Oh… shit… Yeah I get it now.
I’m about to pass out.

You couldn’t let me reach the room, huh? Had to make it messier, you sociopathic fuck.

Wish I could explain, but I woke to a breeze and sunlight blasting my face.
It was like if a lazy son of a bitch didn't cared enough to show how the fuck did I get here.
A little too convenient, isn't it?
“What the fuck am I in now…” I muttered, scanning around.

Simple so far: tied to the rooftop antenna. Why? No fucking clue. Felt less like death, though my gut was stiff as hell.

“Hiro! Finally awake, you psycho!” Aya shouted, smacking her nape into mine.

“Haaa… damn cowardly idiot…” I exhaled, trying to twist and see her. “How the fuck did we end up here?”

“Ashley… she...”

“No shit, Sherlock. I mean what happened. I don’t remember shit, and you don’t look beaten up…” I said, eyeing her as best I could without owl-neck powers.

Missed something—maybe big, maybe not. A water bottle sat in front of me, note taped to it.

[Hiro, ya' poor bugger… kept me word, didn’t I? If you’re readin’ this, ya' didn’t cark it. Loved that kiss, mate—fuckin’ ripper—so I went the extra mile and stitched ya' up a treat. Bet ya loved havin’ Rico inside ya', ya' mad bastard, but you’d’ve gone septic as a dead dingo’s donger, so me boys sorted ya' out proper. Don’t cark it yet… got heaps to show ya', yeah?
Catch ya'. xoxo. Ashley.]

“Aya…” I glanced around, there was nothing but the antenna, the bottle, and the building’s water tank. “Aya, where the fuck’s Cher?” I asked, nearly snapping my neck to face her.

She didn’t answer, just dropped her head, silent.

“Goddamn it, Aya!” I slammed my nape into hers—not to snap her out of it, but ‘cause I was fucking pissed. Yeah, maybe too hard, hell I don’t care. “Where the fuck’s Cher, damn it!?”

“Yo…” she said, shaking her head. “Do that again, and I’ll rip your fucking tongue out and make you lick your own dick.” Her voice was… different. The way she looked at me, her body language—even tied up—felt wrong.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Oh you have no clue how fucking infuriating it is being trapped in this moron’s head… so thanks for letting me out,” she said, slicing the ropes with her nails.

“Huh?”

“Pretty fucking obvious, Hiro, no?”

“Split personality... like... Split-Split or some shit?”

“Damn right, genius of the obvious. Bit more fucked up than that, if you wanna get clinical. Forget the intros—we know each other. Just I'm not stuck in the back seat anymore.” She kept talking, freeing herself. Gotta say… shit, what a badass trick.

“So you’re Aya,” I said, eyeing her as she circled me. “What about the other one?”

“Other one’s the happy pills keeping me locked up… guess you hit the nail on the head when we met,” she said, biting through my ropes. “Coulda wasted Watermelon Guy myself if I wasn’t caged in this useless bitch.”

“H-Hey… no need to—”

“What? Gonna pop a boner if I get too close to your junk? You ain’t got enough blood for that, dumbass,” she said, chewing the ropes until I was free. “Cher pulled a stupid-ass swap for you. Yeah, she's a total braindead, before you say it.”

“Fuck my entire family tree…” I muttered, banging my head on the antenna twice. “That damn idiot…”

“Yeah… yeah…” Aya crouched, grabbed the bottle, and squinted at the note. “Jesus, this kangaroo writes like she talks…” She ripped the label off, tossed me the bottle. “Drink up. You going after her or what? I mean I would…” she muttered, checking her nails. “And fuck up everyone in the way.”

“Damn right I’m finding her…” I chugged the bottle, nearly choking, just for you to know: bleeding out makes you thirsty. “But I got no fucking clue where to start… hate admitting it.”

“Alright… I got you,” she said, pointing at the heart tattoo under her eye. “My people don’t know shit for details, but you got cash, I got guns, and we’ll make the rest up as we go.” She offered a hand to pull me up.

“Haa… fine… back in the game, then. Don’t even wanna think what Ashley’s doi—” Before I could finish, she headbutted my nose. “Fuck’s sake, Aya!”

“Heh… I ain’t like that weakling. I do hit back.” She patted my cheek. “Kangaroo’s probably watching dudes bang or some shit… who knows…” She spun, strolling to the stairwell door, her arms outstretched like she was in some kind of dramatic movie shit. “Gonna turn this into a fucking inferno, Hiro… every last bit…”

Honestly, no clue if I could trust this Aya, but she was quick to act. If she got out of hand, I could always knock her out cold and force a hard reset.

“Hey…”

“Nah, don’t say it, no need for thanks…”

“Wasn’t gonna.”

“…You’re alright, you know.”

“Told you I wasn’t thanking you.”

“…Plus you got hyped by my tits. Was a bit iffy about them. Good to see a true man of culture.”

“Aya…”

“Shame you’re a one-woman type.”

“You really don’t listen, huh…” I muttered, walking behind her. “Whatever. Let’s show that kangaroo what a real fucking knife looks like.”