One, two, three…
A total of twelve men in the same shade of green had infiltrated the main area now. The other bartender took his order and poured a drink with rapid efficiency before handing it back to one at the bar.
He downed the drink and pushed the glass back, as if asking for another.
I watched him for a minute in between glances, but he did not pay.
The bartender I was conversing with did not seem to notice. I called her a couple of times before she heard me.
"Barkeep–"
"Barkeep?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"It's Keke. What is it?"
"That man…"
I gestured over to the man in green.
"He hasn't paid–"
Keke made a motion with her hand to her neck, signaling the end of our conversation. I watched as the man in green drank from another shot glass before leaving the bar area. Once he was out of earshot, Keke leaned over the bartop to speak.
"North Forest doesn't pay for drinks. You don't know that?"
I shook my head. The warmth of the alcohol had started to catch up to me. Keke turned away to collect another couple of orders with a chuckle. Back on the main floor, I kept surveying North Forest as a group.
What made them immune from purchases?
Could not someone just wear the same shade of green and mingle in the crowd?
Is this how they present themselves normally?
Has that pane of text always been there?
I barely managed to catch it from the corner of my eye. Another status meter had appeared just out of my field of view.
[STATUS: DRUNK - 21%]
Two drinks and I'm a fifth of the way there? This body could not hold its liquor. Despite not being able to remember my name–and that's a problem of its own–I can vividly recall several times where I drank my weight in booze. Looking back, those drinks may have been watered down.
Could it have been I who can't hold their drink?
Impossible.
Next to me a man ordered a drink. Keke poured him a small glass before collecting payment and resuming her work. I watched the man slam the shot on the table before pouring it down his throat.
I have seen spirits possess a man so violently that his body contorts and folds in on itself. I have seen spectres and ghouls tear apart past teammates and foes alike. I have seen lich kings and queens subjugate thralls in the worst ways known and unknown to man.
But the reaction of this man who had drunk from his shot glass was so visceral…so violent...everyone around him took a step back to watch as his body convulsed. He let out a screech comparable to that of The Banshee of South Hallow, and writhed sporadically. All while standing up.
Then, just as quick as he came, he returned back to the pit of people on the floor. I leaned over and got Keke's attention, asking what that man had just consumed.
"Keke, what in all the hells did he drink? Was it hell sweat? The tears of a kraken?"
She dangled the bottle before setting it down in front of me.
"...everclear."
I inspected the liquid inside the bottle. It held no color or shade, allowing me to see right through it. If someone placed this next to a glass of water, I doubt anyone could tell which was which.
"It certainly is. But what's it called?"
Keke rotated the bottle and tapped the label, rolling her eyes.
"Oh. I see," I chuckled, "How much for a drink of that?"
"Thirty."
"THIRTY–?"
I caught myself against the bartop and balanced in my seat. I shooed the bottle away from me with all the haste my arms could muster.
"Thirty dollars?! For that demon semen–clearly he was not in his right mind to pay thirty dollars to react–"
"Demon semen?!"
Keke howled in laughter and turned away, hiding her face. I chuckled and took another sip from my glass as she stabilized herself on the bar. The man in the green jacket came back and ordered another drink from her. A comrade, who I presumed to be from the green he wore, came up from behind and sat next to the one in the jacket.
I did not catch a single word between their exchange, but whatever was said made the man in the green jacket angry enough to grab the other one. He threw him from the bar onto the floor and kicked him repeatedly.
I turned to Keke, who turned away. I looked around the room for the security I had seen earlier. They were nowhere to be found. One by one, the rest of the men in green gathered behind their ringleader. They carried out their victim with efficiency I had seen from soldiers, forcing the crowd part.
I waited a couple of seconds before following behind them, attempting to act aloof from the other side of the hall. Passerbys pulled out their phones and circled around the men in green.
"Oh. Someone did it again."
I turned to Keke, who poured a shot for herself.
"Did what? Dress in green?"
"Go see."
Keke poured another shot and gestured for me to follow them out, as many others were doing. As I joined the crowd I spied Will with his arm around the girl I saw earlier. The ear to ear grin across his face reflected the flashing lights. I rolled my eyes and continued filing out with the rest of those who followed.
"Bitch ass, faking ass, weak ass nigga!"
I poked my head through the crowd and started to get to where I could see better. A circle had formed around the supposed faker. With two out of the twelve directly standing over him: the one in the green jacket, and one with green stripes on his shirt. The striped one spoke next.
"Always some bitch ass nigga tryna use our name for clout. I bet you been telling people you're North Forest. Motherfucker–!"
He laid a kick into the one on the ground. Then another. The one in the green jacket spoke next, raising his arms addressing the crowd.
"Looks like no one learned what happens when you start clout chasing for niggas that don't claim you!"
He lifted one flap of his jacket, brandishing a gun. His palm rested on the handle, but he did not draw. A large man moved from the other side of the crowd.
It was Hector. He stood on the outskirts with the rest of June Park, but even they did not dare to interfere. The striped man picked up where his friend left off and drew his own gun, pointing it at the man on the ground.
"What did we say would happen to the next nigga who did this?"
"Shit. We said we'd blow his shit smoove off, I think."
"Hmm. I think I did."
The man on the floor held his hands in protest. He begged them relentlessly before receiving a wound up kick from the man in the jacket.
"Now you wanna beg. Nigga–!"
Another kick to the same spot. The man in stripes signaled for his friend to cease.
"You're lucky June Park asked us not to ruin their floors."
"Again," chimed the man in the jacket. He flaunted his attire as he circled around.
"Julian!" the man in stripes called, "Get this bitch ass nigga out of here before I change my mind."
I looked to a nearby staircase where he had signaled. Julian nodded and motioned his hands over to Hector. He promptly dragged the poser out by his legs. The crowd was thinning as the commotion in the foyer died down. I remained still.
My eyes had not moved from either the man in stripes or the man in the hat. I took another moment to remember their faces before I joined the rest of the party. Keke waved at me as I approached my spot on the bar, though I did not reciprocate her greeting.
"Did they shoot him?" she asked, "They did it last time. Called the cops and everything."
"And they did not apprehend them?"
"Why? No one is snitching on North Forest. That is assuming they haven't already paid off the cops."
Keke chuckled and prepared another drink. Through the lights in the darkness I kept my eyes on the man in the green jacket. He went to sit with the rest of his comrades in a booth that had been freshly vacated.
"Keke?"
"Yeah?"
"Who would ally with such a group? They're ready to commit murder over a color?"
Keke sucked her teeth and looked around. She made a gesture for me to lean in close.
"It's not…that simple."
"Isn't it?"
"Well…no. It's just not something I can explain. Not saying I get it, but they do. I don't know. I think it's a group thing? Something about being part of something bigger than yourself. Like I said, I don't know."
"Is it territory? Their deeds? What have they done to warrant such outcomes on those that dare to wear a shade of green?"
Keke sighed and cleaned a glass. I kept looking for an answer, but all she had to offer were the shrugs of her shoulders.
"Asking the wrong person. Are you in a gang?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I have something I need to accomplish."
"Then same as them."
"No. Nope. Not at all."
I adjusted my seat at the bar so I could point my finger at Keke. Heavy emphasis were put on the words I spoke next.
"There is a man who wronged me. I do not have the power to seek him out myself."
"How do you know that's not them too? Better yet, that they empower others to do the same?"
"Men willing to kill over cloth and color could not possibly be driven by something as personal as vengeance."
"June Park, Venoms, West Side Stans–"
"What?"
All my senses were focused on Keke. Everything else melted away as she became the only thing existing in the room.
"The Stans?" she repeated, "I hear they're talking to North Forest. Some dude earlier at the bar said something about it. Tried to shoot his shot at Lexi–"
She gestured to the other bartender working the counter with her. For the next couple of seconds all the words from Keke seemed to jumble together. My goal seemed farther than ever with this new bit of information.
How many knew I was looking for a certain Stan of the West side?
How many of them knew who I was?
Were there eyes on me? How could I be sure?
What if Xay Thomas was in this room?
"–but turns out? He was DL. Oh–give me a minute."
Everything came back into focus as Keke walked away to attend to business. I turned to look at the swarm of people.
The hair on my back stood at an end. My knuckles cracked as I balled both of my hands into fists on the bar. If Xay were here, what did it matter? If the Stans of the West Side and North Forest were indeed teaming up, what candle could I hold to the men in green?
In the worst case scenario, what if Xay was more than I could handle alone? What if–
"Two shots. Everclear."
I looked to my left.
It was Rod, and he had not noticed that I was sitting next to him until he looked from the corner of his eye. He gave me a sharp up-nod and continued to watch Keke pour his drinks. He thanked her, paid, and slammed one of his drinks back without a reaction. Rod sighed in satisfaction before turning his attention to me.
"So what'd I miss?"