Chapter 4: Welcome to Helsing

Adrien's car whizzed down the highway that led to Helsing, Benita mesmerized by the big glimmering billboards that lit up the night sky. Her heart was racing, thinking about plunging into the glamour of the finest things High Society had to offer. Food, drinks, fashion and entertainment; what more could she ask for, especially since she had no intention of paying for any of it.

"Beni," Adrien called, turning down the radio that played the gentle tunes of bossa nova. "I hope you don't find the lights uncomfortable."

"No at all," she said, ogling the pizzeria that had a line stretch down the street. "I'm actually excited. Mr. Ryder doesn't usually let me go into the city, so being here is a nice change of pace. There's so much I want to see and do!"

"That's a relief. We'll be here for a while, so I guess you'll have all the time to explore the city."

She gave him a dismissive wave, leaning against the window and looking out into the streets. She reeled down the window and stuck her out, listing to the bursting base from the cars zooming past them, vehicles that reeked of booze with people jammed pack into the back seats. Gyrating bodies grinding against each other on the sidewalk as Young dapper men in the company of pretty flappers exchanged cigars with one another.

They came to a red light, the cars slowing down and standing still.

A red cooper parked next to them, and the driver, with his neat cut of hair turned to look at her. When her eyes met his, her heart seized, caught in the gaze of his deep blue eyes. He blew a kiss, Benita on the verge of melting into the seat. She clutched her seatbelt, and looked to the lights, the red turning into green.

Adrien hit the accelerator and once again, they were racing through the night. The man in the red car nowhere to be seen.

Benita sighed and leaned into her seat, looking at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, fixing up her new haircut, trying to place the strands of chestnut hair in place.

There was nothing she could find that was likeable about her, wondering why that man bothered to blow her kiss. She had a small stubby nose which was slightly crooked, a thin bottom lip, but a thick top lip. And her eyes, her eyes that Jina called red-panda eyes. The combination of all of these things slapped onto her copper skin ravaged with blemishes left behind from the pimples she popped the previous night.

She slapped her hands onto her chest, pouting as her fingers ran over her flat bust.

"Adrien," she meekly called. "Can I ask a hypothetical question?"

He raised a brow, "Yes?"

"Let's say you were a stranger, and you saw me in the street for the first time. As I am. Would you be attracted to me?"

He chuckled, ran his fingers through his hair as they turned at a corner. "Not even."

She gasped, "Am I that ugly?"

Adrien turned at another corner, into the Boulevard lined with palm trees. "I'll be honest with you Beni. When you're in your element, you look pretty scary, like a mental patient. When you're not, when you're as you are, you look like a kid."

"And so," she said, leaning in closer to him.

"It would be weird because that would mean I have a thing for young girls."

"You're losing me here. Am I attractive or not?"

He sighed, pinching his brows together as Benita kept on staring at him, mopping.

"It's obvious you're underage. Thats what I'm saying. Your cute, but I wouldn't use the word attractive."

She fell back into her seat, arms crossed, "tet zozo," she muttered.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

The car slowed down, cruising down an avenue lined with casinos and clubs. Rich drunks were staggering down the streets, bouncers pushing certain people out of lines while others were let in. People jeering as they started partying before they actually entered the clubs.

Adrien parked the car along the curb, the revving engine switching off.

"Where are we going?" Benita asked, unbuckling her seatbelt like Adrien was.

He pealed her hands of her buckle and shook his head. "You aren't going anywhere."

"But..."

"Be a good girl and stay in the car quietly. If anyone comes knocking at the window, ignore them." He gave her a little smile, thumbing her cheeks gently. But the little twinkles in his eye slowly faded as the flashing lights around them brightened. They grew pale, a deep misty green that was cold.

She turned away, kept her eyes straight on the road as the mere look of his sultry eyes minced with his calm demeanor had her body tense.

"Okay," she said. "But hurry up. If you're gone too long, I might run away."

"I'll make sure to be quick." He shut the door, fixed his jacket and began long strides across the busy road. Dodging cars as angry driver hurled all sorts of insults at him. He only smiled and waved back, rushing as fast as he could to the club across the street with a sign of neon pink, purple and blue.

"Kitzy Lounge," Benita whispered, watching Adrien jump ahead of the queue. People seemed to recognize him, some girls blushing as they touched up their makeup before he passed by. He went up to the bouncer, said something, then was let in.

From then on, they did not let anyone in. Infact, a flood of people were seen leaving, standing idly on the sidewalk. Complaining, trying to claw they're way back in but the bouncers were adamant on their stance. No one was entering.

Of course, it was Adrien's doing. He was different, held a type of charisma in him that always reeled people in to submit to his plans. His tender use of vulgar language, and gallant curses that she never understood but somehow worked magic. And that was if he even cared to put in effort.

Kitzy Lounge was not immune to the potency of his words. Another sight Benita had seen countless times.

She grew restless by the minute, watching people have the time of their lives with what they had while she was locked up in the stuffy car. Her fingers tapped over the window, helplessly eyeing girl with drinks in their hands. Their elated eyes made her jealous, but still, she wouldn't disobey Adrien.

Trying to find some other sort of entertainment, she clicked open the glove compartment and began rummaging through what he had. His rings, a few packs of cigarettes, some pills, condoms and a stash of peanuts and raisins.

I'm sure he won't miss a packet, she thought, ripping the cellophane bag open.

Her fingers dug further into the compartment, finding an oddly thick bottle of lube with some of the liquid spilling out. Grimacing as the slimy substance coating her fingers. She wiped it off on the dashboard and continued her search for something worthwhile.

"Aha!" she exclaimed. Pulling out a picture.

Set in the banana fields was a young boy with tattered clothes, dust coating his body and a grin with two front teeth missing. Next to the boy was a woman, the sun set upon her tan face as if to say she was worthy of basking in its golden glow. Her soft brown eyes, and smile that radiated pure joy. Even though she had lingering cuts and scrapes on her arms.

The young boy had green eyes. Innocent, twinkling, green eyes.

She turned the photo around, and on the back of it, written in the delicate writing that he only used, in writing system she understood, were the words, I Love You.

A faint smirk cracked up her cheeks, nibbling on peanuts. Amongst all the lewd and senseless things he kept, he still remembered her. A token, an image that held all the precious memories they shared through the years.

A pang shot through her chest, causing her heart to throb and eyes to tear as she gazed at the picture. A depiction of joy, even in the dimmest situation.

She wished her story were somewhat like his, to have a token of those memories of her younger days. What worsened the sting was to remember that she was still young, that she lost it all when she was still too young. It went up in a blaze of fire, one night they were there, the next, they were gone. Flashing lights that were signals of their last moments, and then, silence. Not a token of their existence left behind.

Her fingers trembled, still clutching the paper. If only she still had a picture like this. Of the two faces that made her. If only she took whatever token she could dig up from the rubble and ran with it. If only she tried...

Benita jumped at the dull knocks against the window. She turned, and found Adrien bending over, signaling her to come out. She threw the picture and peanuts into the glove compartment and stepped out into the humid summer night.

His lips curled into a devilish smile, "Were you crying?"

"No," she pouted, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "I got some of your lube in my eye. Now it stings."

He laughed, slapping her across the shoulder, "That'll teach you not to go through my glove compartment."

"I hate you," she murmured.

Of course, she wouldn't say what she actually meant, would never admit to why her eye's swelled with tears. She simply wiped away the little drops of water with her sleeve, watching Adrien dig into his pocket, and pull out two black tickets lined with silver. 

"Guess what these are."

There were a few reasons Benita hated Alegria. The first was their writing system. Squiggly lines that all looked the same with strange hats atop each letter. Her brows furrowed, wondering if he was joking, "I can barely read. You know that."

"I do, but consider this a lesson," his face lit up with the words. "I know you can't, but the people we'll meet don't. As much as I wish to lift your spirits and not make you feel bad, the hard truth is if they find out what you can't do, they'll use it against you. They've done it to me, who's to say what they'll do to you."

The words nestled into her thoughts. Her face softened, seriously thinking it over. She looked out into the street, at the endless flow of cars that still raced into the night. Coming up from the highway, flooding into the city of Helsing. She had two options, jump into Adrien's car and drive herself back to Port Vernon, or jump in front of one of the cars and hope for the best.

There was no way she was going to attempt reading anything. Not even an Alegrian stop sign.

She raked through the two options, which would yield the most promising results, which wouldn't get her kicked out of Selati. The odds were stacked high, and Benita could only helplessly stare at the letters.

Adrien waited, his face dead with emotion.

"A party? Celebration?" she bitterly squeezed.

He leaned in, his shoulders squared, hand reaching for her head, "Good," he cooed.

"These are invitations to the Orson Masquerade Ball, in honor for a coming national holiday, the Night of the Phantom Parade. We, thanks to a few colleagues of mine, were invited as special guests, and thus, we'll be staying with the Orson's for two weeks while we wait for the holiday."

"Orson? As in Director of Private Investigations, Orson?"

" Yes."

Her face soured at the mention of the Orson's. The two options she had to escape quickly turn into an unyielding resolve to fake reading. When it came to those slimy fiends, she would not let them get the best of her. 

"Those crooks didn't give me my severance pay from my last two missions! If I see that pig, I might just dispose of him," she massaged her knuckles, staring vaguely into the bleak night as she spoke. "Just because I didn't read the contract doesn't mean I don't know how much I should be paid. For once I feel like I could actually skin someone alive."

Adrien placed a hand on her shoulder, "Your too soft to purposely kill someone."

"Well, I'll have you know that I can be just as scary as the rest of you," she said, placing her hands on her hips with full conviction in her chest. It might not mean much, not too him at least, but she believed that she could get away with murder, at least once.

Adrien scanned her pouted face and laughed, " Is that so? I guess you're ready to venture into the dark side then."

He stepped behind her, letting his shadow swallow her body whole, a grim and unearthly coat that ripped away the sense of light in the dark night. His pale fingers began dancing down her arm like spiders crawling on a web.

Benita tensed.

He bent down, and whispered into her ear, "I guess you don't mind dancing with phantoms like me then."

"Hey! Hey!" she shouted, jumping into the streetlight. "I'm not a demon you know! I just want my money!"

"Killing on contract isn't enough to make you a cold killer," he smiled amused. "That's the difference between you and I." 

He stepped down the sidewalk and leaned against the car. The breath Adrien heaved in seemed to dispel something from within him, Benita monitoring the pale shade of his eyes. 

"You know I wouldn't let you become one, right?" He asked, taking slow and calm breaths with his eyes closed.

Benita kept her mouth shut. She didn't know her words would push him that far. It's not like anyone knew. It was sporadic, and the only indicator was when the twinkle in his eyes went away. Her heart swelled looking at him take those slow breaths, like a patient on their death bed. His hand dug into his pocket, but she could see the avid clench of his fists inside.

"I know," she answered softly.

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Adrien focused on his breathing, as Benita watched.

When he came to, opening his eyes with that vibrant green sparkle, he said, " The Pearls are our priority. And for us to get them, we need to honor this invite."

"So, they're going to give it to use if we come?"

"No, but it'll make a difference."

"Cause we're important?"

"Yes, but not entirely. I need you to agree to an interview with Mr. Orson's daughter, Clementine."

Her primal instinct wanted her to decline, it knew what she wanted before she was told. But seeing Adrien study her for a reaction, his eyes carefully on her waiting, had her open up her heart and listen first. 

"On what?"

"Clemetine's a student at the University of Alegria. She told me they're doing an assignment on arms dealing and wanted to get an interview with a top gunman; find out how you use your gun, any improvements you'd like, qualms, queries and the like thereof."

The stuffy breath she held as he explained was released. It wasn't about what she thought it was. Which was good, great in fact. It meant she wouldn't have to recall certain memories, that she could keep them buried deep in the treasure chest of her heart.

Talking about guns was easy, but talking about life before them, she could never do. And didn't want to do. 

She looked up to Adrien, "That wasn't what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?"

"The question most people ask."

Adrien carefully said, with a low tone that only she could hear, "what it's like to be a survivor?"

She sighed, "Yup. I thought that's what she'd ask."

"She wouldn't dare ask. Not when you have me around."

Benita looked around, at the cheery faces that had not an ounce of care in the world. It was too early to be suspended in gloom. The thrill of drinks and air of ecstasy was still potent, clubs booming with music and lounges of laughter. Adrien had a fat wallet in the car. There was only one thing left to do.

"Hey, Adrien," she called, staring at Kitzy Lounge across the street.

"How about we get something to drink? And then we can go meet Clementine."

"You're not legal," he said nonchalantly.

"And you're barely legal. I say we're too dumb ducks in the same pool. What do you say?"

He looked at her blank faced for a minute. 

Benita smiled, hoping it would bring a change of heart and let her taste just a drop of alcohol. But he wasn't cracking, just watching her like a brooding owl.

He gently grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him as he rushed into the street, crossing the road.

Benita's body jolted with electricity as they approached the lounge. Finally, she thought as the bright neon lights were right before them.

Adrien turned sharply, down the sidewalk, away from the Lounge.

She tried to pull her hand, not knowing what he was doing or where they were going, but it wasn't the Lounge. And if it wasn't the lounge, she didn't want to go.

Adrien's grip on her tightened, pulling her away as the lingering scent of meat grew closer.

"Where are we going?"

"A family restaurant. You can drink soda there. That's what I say."

Benita moaned and tried to break away. Fighting against him as a toddler would, but he would not yield and kept pulling her away. Further and further away from Kitzy Lounge.