Spotlight Romance (I) -Yeah, I Can Mess With The Titles-

Look… yeah, not gonna lie, the place was tight, crates of guns on one side, ammo on the other, all data typed on old-school typewriters.
Guess in the digital age, analog is way safer.
That’s how you traffic, folks, no traces left behind for cyber police.

“Guuuuys! Meet my boyfriend!” Aya yelled as she bounced down the stairs and shoved me forward.

Apparently, Aya wasn’t exactly Miss Simpaty, even with 'her crew.' They looked at her and went back to work like if didn't hear her.
Gave me vibes of someone who craves attention and uses status to get it… you know, like a Discord mod or something like that.

“I'm not your fucking boyfriend,” I said, looking back.

“Until we save Cher, you are and... and that comes with benefits, get me?” she said.

“I’m this close to losing it and putting a bullet in you, Aya,” I said.

“A bullet?” she asked, yanking my arm and pinning me against the stair rail. “Why not something else?” she whispered in my ear as she slid her palm under my shirt onto my stomach.

“What the actual fuck you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“Oh… nothing… you said you wanted to put something in and my lightbulb went on…” she said as her nails grazed my skin, heading straight for my belt—and no, didn't stop there, she went past it. “Oops… hand’s slipping…”

“Aya. I’m about to snap, you know that?” I said.

“Mmm… I can make something else snap…” she said, slipping her hand under my waistband. “Huh? Oh…”

“‘Oh’ what?” I asked, trying to pull her hand out.“Nothing, nothing…” she said, pulling her hand out herself and continuing down the stairs with a laugh.

“Hey! Audience’ll get the wrong idea if you don’t say something,” I said.

“Ah, yeah, yeah… right…” she said, clearing her throat. “Ahem… Oh Hiro… what a monster, it’s huge, feels like it could split me in half… ruin me completely, gonna need stitches, sutures. Reconstructive surgery maybe… and probably a wheelchair after a night with you.”

“You’re just making it worse…” I muttered, following her down.

“Come on, it’s not the size, it’s how you use it…” she said.

“That’s every peanut-dick’s excuse,” I said.

“Let them imagine, then,” she said.

“Don’t give a shit about them—they’ll picture the worst,” I said.

Aya ignored me completely and walked between the cubicles, checking what everyone was doing.
Me? Couldn’t help noticing the other Aya ran the show here—at least with her people. Brain and brawn in one body.
Yeah, I know a human is literally that, but you get the metaphor. Don’t fuck with me okay?

“Gonna take a loooong shower. Join if you want,” she said.

“Pass,” I said.

“Ooooh… look at Mr. Grumpy…” she said, walking to one of the doors, pretending to be disappointed. “We’ll take turns then, but I’ll be in there for a while and moan loud. At some point it might sound like I'm clapping, but I won't—just ignore it… unless you’re curious. I Don’t mind peepers.”

“I'll pretend I didn’t hear that,” I said.

“Leaving the door cracked if you change your mind and wanna peek,” she said.

“That too,” I said.

“Ugh… you really don’t budge huh? Wanna speed things up? Talk to four eyes over there,” she said, pointing to the guy in a cubicle far from the rest. “Be gentle, he’s kind of a weirdo with real people.”

“What you mean by that?” I asked.

“You’ll see. Ciao,” she said, blowing me a kiss and going into the bathroom.

The guy in the isolated cubicle—the only one with a computer—meant if anyone could dig intel, it was him.

Best trafficking keeps data analog, but for info, going digital is the quickest way.
Or you think John Wick’s phone network bullshit would work in real life?

“Oh come on! Not again…” I muttered between my teeth as I approached the cubicle full of anime posters, visual novels, and a suggestive figure collection. Points for the figures, might buy one of those. “What’s up, Cyclops? I need a hand.”

“Heard everything…” he said, adjusting his glasses. “What you need, Hiro-kun?”

“Hiro-kun? This ain’t a fucking anime, four eyes, your glasses won’t gleam,” I said, grabbing a chair and sitting next to him. “Need to track an Ashley—Aussie with a creepy gay romance addiction.”

“Mmm… mmm… got it, Hiro-kun…” he said, hunching over like a shrimp and typing like crazy. “Fate brought you to me. Don't worry, I got you. Ashley’s big in the scene… surprised you don’t know her…”

“I’m crazy, just not that crazy, and cut the ‘kun’ shit already,” I said.

“Done,” he said, turning the monitor toward me and looking like he’d beaten a game for lifelong virgins.

“What the fuck does this place have to do with Ashley?” I asked.

“Ah… Hiro-k—” he said, stopping and straightening his back every vertebrae cracked like pop-corn or some shit.
Dude needed a chiropractor.

“Hiro… where you think yaoi fans gather?”

“What the fuck do I know… some webnovel site?” I said.

“Partially correct…” he said, tapping the monitor. “But if you traffic yaoi novels… there is the cash…”

“A fucking otaku convention? Are you fucking kidding me? She’s got a damn militia and smuggles gay fiction on conventions?” I asked.

“Hai…” he said.

“Speak normal, Cyclops, or I’ll knock those teeth out of your mouth…” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Anyway… spill it all. Need a plan—this ain’t a shoot-em-up spot.”

“I can get two passes. You and Aya would be able to move free inside,” he said.

“Good, Cyclops… good… you’re weird but not useless,” I said, patting his shoulder and standing. “Gonna tell Aya.”

“Hiro…”

“What?”

“You’ll need to change clothes,” he said.

“Yeah, I know, I look like shit.”

“No… the passes I can get are for cosplayers.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me… right?”

Hear me out, why this is getting weirder and weirder?
Come the fuck on... dammit...