Chapter Text
Hawaii.
Home of geriatrics, families with too much time on their hands, and the occasional homeless person ambling across a street named something stupid, like Sunshine Lane.
Ugh.
Axel didn’t like the way the full moon shone tonight. Too bright, too bluish. It tried too hard to be like the sun, cheerful at the ripe hour of 3:00 am. It hung over the horizon, bright and watery, the surrounding picturesque clouds backlit under its shiny light.
He clenched the briefcase in his hand.
On the street across from him, a gaggle of twenty-somethings whooped and cheered, their steps slurred, words tumbled out their mouths without care. Drunk after a Saturday night bar crawl.
Axel flicked his head, a vain attempt to get his chin-length, dirty-blonde hair out of his eyes. Their laughter buzzed inside his skull.
Gray plaster, tall enough to take advantage of the real estate but not as tall as the other Oahu skyscrapers, encased the hotel-turned-auction-site. The high-rise glittered with reflective glass, a warped transparency mirrored by the red and green city lights in its surroundings. An unmanned cart stocked with cheap bulk shell necklaces stood near the entrance, “aloha” emblazoned in flowery white font.
A couple palm trees swayed in the distance. Their leaves rustled against the late-night sea breeze. Axel glanced down at his watch. 3:17 am.
A black cab slowed to a stop at the entrance of the hotel.
Sliding glass doors whirred to life. Axel stepped out. His briefcase swung in his right hand, his left hand tucked loose into the pocket of his chinos.
“You’d think someone poor enough to work as a taxi driver would be eager to receive a $500 late-night ride.”
The driver just grinned. His mustache and hat looked straight from the 70s, with squares creased into the cheap polyester of his Hawaiian shirt. Coupled with a pair of zip-off cargo shorts and—Axel repressed a shudder. Were those socks with sandals?—the man looked like he walked out of a postcard.
“Mr. Dent?” The driver said.
“I paid you to drive, not ask questions.” Axel swatted the car, thumbprints left atop the polished black paint job. He stepped inside the cabin, sliding the briefcase between his polished oxfords.
“Just want to make sure I've got the right passenger.”
The door slammed shut. “Does anyone else here look like an Axel? It's all retirement funds and screaming children.” He pulled out a plastic conch shell necklace from his chinos and shoved it into the seat pocket in front of him. “Go.”
The driver raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”
The car drove.
City lights sped past, and the landscape shifted from hotels to shops and vacation homes.
Axel did what any zoomer would do with a pocket of empty time and nothing else to do—he took out his phone and started to swipe. Clippets of audio rang out one after the other.
I couldn’t believe it when—This man spent eight thousand dollars— [Basketball dribbling and sneaker squeaks] —Wooooooow. This is so— [knife scraping against crust] —
The audio cut out. His phone rang. He hit the call button and pressed it up to his ear. “What?”
“Do you have it?”
“Have what?”
“The briefcase. It hasn’t been stolen yet?” Cali’s voice on the other end sounded strained.
They were both graduates of the same masters program. Afterwards, they got hired by the same “company.” She never reciprocated his affections. In other words, she was a frigid bitch.
Axel brushed a strand of hair off his face. Greasy. He’d have to wash it soon. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve been targeting the other agents. Vigilante interference. The director wants to know if it's safe.”
He clenched the phone. Tamped the instinctual curl in his gut down. Don’t be a pussy.
“It's here, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He raised the briefcase to make a point. His head felt hollow. “Stupid bastards. Couldn’t even keep a briefcase safe?”
“They’ll get you too if you’re not careful.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Auction’s over, I’m headed to the dropoff. Cat’s in the bag.”
“Be—” The call ended. He shoved his phone into his pocket.
Honestly, Cali worried too much. They put in all these cautions, staggered their exits and everything. Some superhero wasn’t gonna swoop in and… what? Beat up some office worker in a taxi that smelled like the sweaty tubes of a Chuck-E-Cheese playplace?
There were less city buildings in the window now. Hills, trees, and the sound of waves permeated the taxi.
Axel looked down at his phone. A few short videos later—somehow, hours worth of time disappeared—he shoved his phone back into his pocket.
The driver glanced at the rearview mirror. "That’s a nice ring you've got there."
"Steal it, and I'll make you regret it," Axel blurted. He shrugged. "It's nice, I guess. Solid gold with lapis lazuli inlay. Bought it for half a million."
"A.I.M. help you with the money?"
“Omnitech,” Axel gritted out. “And it’s none of your business.” He held the ring up to the light, watching as it gleamed.
The driver didn’t respond. Axel’s eye twitched.
"It’s the Eye of Horus. Ancient Egyptians believed sealed within this ring was Horus’ eye, plucked out by Seth." His heart beat faster. He couldn't help but smirk. “It's said to bring life onto those who offer it sacrifice. Bloody, painful sacrifice.”
The driver huffed a soft laugh.
Axel frowned. "What's so funny?"
"Not you." The driver glanced at his reflection in the window. "Someone was complaining."
Axel swept a glance over the cab. He raised an eyebrow. "There's no one else here."
The driver's eyes gleamed with a reflection of moonlight. He said nothing.
The car parked, and things quieted. Cricketsong echoed through the bushes. Trees shuffled along with the breeze, fresh tire tracks the sole indicator of civilization. The forest clearing was empty, save for the cab.
Axel furrowed his brow. "I get off at the airport."
The grin on the driver's face was all teeth. "I know this isn't your stop."
Axel’s throat tightened. “That’s stupid. Then why–”
And then the driver pulled out a gun.
A gun.
The soft click of the safety went off. Axel stared at the barrel, mind blank. What the hell was a taxi driver doing with a loaded weapon?
Axel first learned to shoot a gun on a hunting trip with his father. Each season, they’d sit in a tall, camouflaged box propped up by support beams until a deer wandered past the crosshair. He’d never had one pointed at himself. What the hell do you do in this situation? Call 9-1-1? Axel’s fingers twitched. His arm didn’t move.
“What. the hell. are you doing.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
The taxi driver’s grin stretched.
He cocked his head.
And fired the gun.
BANG!
The pinch in his sternum rippled his whole torso. A whine pierced his eardrum. He should be feeling pain. Why wasn’t he in pain?
He tilted, and fell onto the carseat.
Fire poured through his heart. It thundered in his ears. His chest wobbled like jello. He was hyperventilating.
Blood pooled from the wound. He lifted his hand, and watched it drip off his fingers in rivulets. Sticky. Red. It stuck to his hand and the seat cushion. No pain. White-hot numbness settled across his insides.
Sun-warmth seared his ringed finger.
The driver unclicked his seat belt. He exited the vehicle, and sauntered to the other side. The passenger car door opened.
“You have something that’s not yours,” The driver hummed. “My God wants it back.”
A hollow chuckle puttered from Axel’s throat. “‘My god?’ How trite can you get?”
He struggled to sit up.
Moonlight backlit the driver in silhouette. In the darkness, Axel couldn’t make out the details in the driver’s face. He paled, slumping back onto the passenger’s seat.
He never got a name.
The driver plucked the ring off in one smooth motion. He grabbed the briefcase between Axel’s feet.
“You’re lucky.” The driver held the ring up to the light. “This won’t kill you. You’ll have your magic ring to thank for that.”
Warmth spread throughout his body. Axel grimaced. Like sitting on a stone in the sun. The wiggling sensation itched at his gut.
His tongue thickened when he spoke. “Ffffffuck you.”
The driver smiled, and tipped his hat. He picked up the briefcase, and his outline disappeared into the harsh shadows of trees.
He couldn't believe it. His taxi driver.
Soft moonbeams shone across his limp body. His eyesight dimmed, and the world faded to black.