Chapter 2: Flynt

A sturdy and tall young man is standing and examining himself in the full length mirror in his vast closet. Surrounded by tailored suits, the sixteen year old is in yet another suit. This one is pitch black in color and is a simple albeit not simply priced two piece that hugged his body like it was in love with him. All clean lines and well lavish fabric, whoever this is, he must be one hell of a customer.

The shirt underneath is sterling white and made of peculier spider silk. Flexible and durable, it is as exotic as it is impenetrable. The owner has some opinions on that, while it is practical, it's not very charming in other aspects of life. And while he did not have a particular craving for such activities on any day, ever. His guise often required him to entertain parasitic lovers who find humor in yanking fabric off its' threads. Out of excitement? They think it's funny to waste more money on top of his valuable time? He'll never know.

Mercifully, tonight he won't have to endure any of that repetitive act he had to put on. Sometimes, he repulsed himself.

His companion for this event will be wary and to some extent- guilty. Sasha will be with him at all times so he won't have to fret about being in mortal danger, hopefully.

Now, comes the tie. It would have to possess some character but it couldn't be too gaudy either. Not that he owned anything of the sort. The lady would no doubt wear green as it was his favorite color and she knows that much about him at least. Won't it be comical just to match her. Yes, that is probably her intention.

He glazed his hand over his extensive collection and paused over a beautiful black tie with meticulous designs in dark green. He picked it up and dragged his hand under it to pull it far to scrutinize it. The base black was mapped with artistic layers of green but the stripes in diagonal were there to add a sharp tint. The green was dark enough to pull the elements together and make it subtle. He smiled but it was so tiny it could as well just been a smirk.

A gift from his tailor on his birthday. He humored. Madam Rossi was always the answer.

He picked a handkerchief of the same design and put them on with skilled hands. A silver tie clip was thrown in the mix as well as silver and black cuff and collar links with intricate designs that could only be clearly seen when one observes.

His hair was another matter altogether. It was curly and almost touches his shoulders but he didn't want to straighten it. He also wasn't fond of hair gel, he didn't like grease in his hair. Jason wrestled with it for a while before finally taming it into a neat design that frames his face. He's aiming for immaculate and he's going to get it or die trying.

Needless to say, the result was tolerable. Oh well. Nobody is perfect.

He inspected himself in the mirror with steady eye. Sharp and angular face with the slightest tang of Arabian origins. His jaw was sharp and his nose was high, narrow, straight and perfect. Plump, pouty pink lips with a Cupid's Bow lined at the top. Tanned skin, muscular body, broad shoulders and a uh... shapely backside. He was unrealistically handsome. At 16.

His eyes were his favorite part about his appearance, they're unique yet so familiar. He has a condition called heterochromia iridum where his eyes are of two different colors. He once considered praying to his ancestors for existing in the right combination of order that allowed this genetic condition to happen. He decided against it at the end, he didn't want to sicken his family with his overabundance of theatrics.

It's something he didn't want to share with the world, however. His father's clear blue eyes and his mother's exotic green ones. They were like two crystal orbs planted on his face and he loved how they reminded him of the happiest moments of his lives where he could still picture those very colours light up when they smiled.

They used to, before..

He stopped his train of thoughts and quickly applied his contact lenses to his eyes, gently. He was a dinky bit far-sighted. He used a clear one over his green iris and a custom green one over his blue. Might as well go all out with this green mania.

Jason shook slightly and patted himself down to look presentable before stepping in front of his almost black wooden closet door. He watched it separate into eight slices and recede into the wall in a circular motion. Just some more equipments and he was ready to go.

He took out his durable glass phone.

"Sasha, prepare our vehicle. The new one. I'll be down in five." Without waiting for silence and getting hung up on, he saved himself the dignity and hung up right after speaking.

-----

"Sir, are you sure you don't want to carry a gun?" A growly blunt voice questioned to the person seated behind him.

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he looked out and down at the city. America, so bright from above yet so disorganized down there. Even with his best efforts, crime was unfortunately still vigorously coursing it's way through the streets. People might cheer for the improvements but it wasn't enough. The euphoria was still a long way to go but as luck would have it, he was still young.

"My gargantuan bosom friend, once, I was worried. I didn't quite realize how I would go about inviting my attempted killer to a civilised meeting so you see, now that I have, scaring her away is one of the last things I ought to do. Besides, why use a gun when my pen is a deadly lazer?" Jason declared quietly and with his deep voice, it came out as a pleasant, almost whisper-like tone. Sasha, always so paranoid. Perhaps it was hypocritical for him to say that considering he wasn't a carefree individual either but it was no use insisting decisions that were already made.

Astoundingly, not, Sasha didn't seem convinced. It was spectacular how a hairless eyebrow can express this notion so well. Jason turned a blind eye, he could deal with this mother hen later. Now, his master pla-

'~ I saw you, dancing in the rain~ You were holding hands and I~ Will never be the sa-'

Jason groaned inwardly.

Curse that ringtone, although he quite like it, this is a rather inopportune time. He spared a glance at Sasha, who was still brooding.

"That's my final, friend. I have to take this call."

He gently flumped the pad of his thumb onto the answer button and left it a second too long before bringing the phone up to his ear.

He continued to stare out of the window through half lidded eyes and stated dryly-"Jason Flynt, how did you get this number?"

"Hi Jason!" A young and cheery accented voice chirped.

His eyes brightened immediately. He flashed a toothy grin to Sasha before closing his mouth and staring back out the window, though the arch of his lips was still there.

"Wattanak, lovely for you to call. How have you been?" His voice was still clear and quiet but it is soft and gentle this time. The girl he was talking to was a Cambodian ballerina attending the academy founded by his parents. She was there on a scholarship and he has been helping her train every time he visits. The 12 year old was so bright and talented, she was a fresh and sunny face in his days of businessing. She was such an inspiring child, impoverished but here she was, following her dreams.

He didn't think he even had the proper brain facilities to feel cloying emotions anymore after the tragedies that happened but that was before he had started to really go out into the world and looked, felt, experienced.

Gives one a new perspective, very much recommended.

"I'm fine, my leg hurt, but I have interview next week." The voice, Wattanak, seems only to get more excited.

"An interview!" Jason was putting as much genuine enthusiasm into his voice as his throat could manage. Interviews are boring but the girl really liked them for some unfathomable reason.

"For YouTube video." Her voice dropped a little. Yes, he can definitely sympathize. He couldn't imagine himself in another one of those 5 minutes videos with happy coconut music in the background.

"You'll get there, buddy." She has gotten there once. She was invited to a Cambodian game show right before her flight to Greece. She didn't like that one either, or rather, she didn't like how the hosts keep bringing up the fact that her name was very masculine.

"At least they don't say I have a boy name." He should just change his name to Prophet Flynt.

"They won't, I doubt those gits bothered to do any research about their guests." That's finally a good thing.

"What about you?" Wattanak inquired.

"Pardon?" He wondered if she wanted his opinions on her name. He was about to say that his bodyguard's name also sounds girly, to appease her-

"How are you uh-what are you doing?" Oh. He glanced at Sasha through the mirror with a sheepish look, a rare one in his case and was met with a puzzled one in return. Oh, Sash, you'll get there buddy.

He looked back out the window. His back snug against high quality synthetic leather.

"I'm going on a date." He laughed inwardly at his own joke. Right. He didn't like using words such as 'lame' but now seems the proper occasion.

"Really? Is she pretty?"

"Yes, she's rather mature as well." As mature as a thirty two year old woman who is the leader of a mercenary gang tends to be.

"Good luck!" Luck? He didn't need luck. He made sure to voice out his thoughts.

"I don't need luck, I have my charms." He bit his lip and cringed. Why must he do this to himself?

"*fake vomit noises* Okay okay. My friend call me, I have to go. Bye Bye!" Beep

He looked at the rearview mirror to check if Sasha had witnessed his humiliation of being hung up on. And if that smirk was anything to go by..

Curses. His unflappable expression didn't change though. They were close to the restaurant and he wanted to have everything ready. X-ray sunglasses at night, not the best of ideas but maybe he can come off as obnoxious enough to pull it off. An earpiece, set to listen to heartbeats of a particular target. She knows enough, that would not be unusual. His hands were bare, no calluses, the gloves he usually wore did a good job of preventing that. He has a colossal amount of gadgets on his person, worn by Sasha and more...

The flying black ship descended and landed smoothly on a dark concrete road before the wings withdrew back into the main body making it look like an expensive black sports car. Taking a turn onto the brighter main road, it sped up and onto it's destination.