EVOLUTION - BOOK ONE

2047 – November 29th, Friday ◦ ◊ ◦ Outskirts of Long Beach, California, USA ◦ ◊ ◦ Armani ◦ ◊ ◦ I take one deep breath after another, keeping each one consistent as I jog on the beach below my house. The sun is starting to set, and it’s getting just a bit chilly. My heart beats hard, and I sweat to the point I have soaked my thin shirt, but it’s perfect. The high I get from exercising is something drugs or alcohol can’t touch. It took me almost a full year before I could keep it down. Loki lied – it does not taste like chicken. And it was another year before I could really make someone do something they didn’t want to do. My first victim was Skylen. I made him cluck like a f*****g chicken, then he stabbed me once he snapped out of it. But as always, no mark, no scar, no reminder of that moment in time, except the fading memory. Once I really got control of this handy little tool, we – the three of us: me, Loki, and Skylen – opened up our club, Evolution. I named it. It just felt right, and it is all mine. I needed Loki’s and Skylen’s help. I won’t pretend otherwise, but legally it’s mine. By the fourth year out here on the West Coast, the club was fully up and running. But the club aspect is really just for fun and to draw in what we need – fresh meat. I reach my usual stopping point and bend at my waist, hands just above my knees as I squat, eyes closed, reflecting. It’s what I do when I’m out here, in the sand, alone. I learned quickly – I have my dad’s brain for business, Loki tells me – that there is a difference between gutter chuck and prime-grade cuts of meat. I started to get picky, very picky. Turns out that vegetarians and vegans have the most nutritional value for what we need. I guess we could have applied the whole grass-fed and free-range aspect of the animal market to our protein, but whoever said humans were logical? Look at our record of elected officials – enough said. I stretch, standing on the beach, loosening my muscles to prepare for the jog back and up the steep incline that winds around the cliff. My favorite times of day are when the sun rises and when it sets. The colors captivate me. No two are ever alike. And a new color is invented each morning and night. I hate painting both sunrises and sunsets because I can never fit every color I want in there. I simply can’t copy nature’s lack of consistency. It’s just beautiful. It took five years from moving from New York to California before I could fully call the club mine. Now I manage everything and everyone, which is easy when no one can say no to me unless I tell them to. We have a great system. Skylen grabs the meat. Loki checks them for quality. We’re not complete animals, only taking what deserves to be used as protein to feed others. Their aura is all that stands between them and their judgment day. The whole process makes it all seem better somehow, like we are doing the world a favor really. Ridding the land of shitty people. Skylen didn’t like the strategy at first, but I had to side with Loki just so I could sleep at night. Soon enough, the numbness came, especially knowing my survival depends on others not surviving. The strongest and fittest of us will always survive. The problem with an easy life – you get bored. Skylen and Loki got tired of the monotony of everything running like it should, no hiccups. Being alive as long as they have, probably also has something to do with that. But that means for the past year I’ve been doing almost all the work, while they come and go between doing their small roles at Evolution. I don’t hate my life. But I don’t love it either. Watching the last rays of the sun fade out, I feel at peace with another well-timed jog. The run back is twice as taxing and twice as rewarding. I take off with purpose. The biggest surprise of everything is that the three of us actually get along – we work and live well together. Considering we literally live together in my house, that was a blessing. Maybe it was them training me for what I could do or just the forced proximity, but we’re close. We all agreed on this place outside of Long Beach, just southwest in what is supposed to be a protected green space. But that is exactly what we needed – privacy. And who could say no to me? The club is deep in Los Angeles, but the distance is worth it. So, that’s where I’m at. An easy and well-planned life, a business that is lucrative, and the finest proteins to choose from. But this past June, I started questioning things, all because mom and dad came to visit. They visit every couple months. A routine we’ve worked into. Mom still knows nothing, despite being just like me. I even notice she’s not aging anymore, so dad is keeping her protein intake up without her noticing. I hate hiding s**t from mom, but she’s too good to know this part of her and my life. She’d probably hate me if she knew. She might also hate dad for participating so willingly. They were visiting on my birthday, June seventh, when I turned twenty-five. Twenty-five seemed like a good age to settle with, so I did. I increased my intake, as Loki suggested, to keep up with my body’s demands on my system. Dad, not one to ever try to be tactful with me, suggested I find a wife to create some influential connections. I ended and basically stomped like a child on that conversation, but to be honest… I’m bored. Things are too perfect. I feel the familiar burn in my lungs as the incline steepens. The closer I am to returning to the house, the more I feel this need to decide and stick to my decision. I’ve been here for over seven years now. I’ve accomplished everything I was sent here for and everything I wanted to. I like this area. I want to stay, so putting down roots makes sense – more permanent roots. I have this f*****g void I need to fill. I’ve tried filling it with money, s*x, art, fitness, work… but it’s never enough. Done. I’ve decided as I hit the top of the cliff and turn to head straight for the house, my house that sits on top of the cliff with the beach below it – my paradise. It’s November, almost December. I think a month is long enough. Yes, I’m going to give myself until the end of the year to get married. Thinking back to that June visit, my mom never gives up on my dad, despite his dickish ways. He’s never a d**k to her, just everyone else. My mom is a f*****g saint, and if she can put up with him, I should be able to land an angel. Even if marriage doesn’t fix my boredom problem or fill that growing void, at least it will add a little excitement. ◦ ◊ ◦ Loki ◦ ◊ ◦ I am completely captivated by the newest addition to Skylen’s bedroom wall. He’s busy counting stacks of bills. Not sure what he’s hoarding cash for, except that he’s anti-big-banks. He’s yet to acknowledge my presence, but he knows I know that he knows I’m here. Loki: I don’t remember the blood. That new? I don’t smell fresh paint, so it can’t be that new. Skylen: Yeah, he added that four, maybe five days ago, I think. Loki: Interesting. It is. Armani is quite the talented artist, specifically when it comes to painting. The fucker can blend colors and shades to create pure, adulterated art. That’s the best kind. Armani has spent years painting walls in this house once he grew tired of small canvases. Skylen’s wall behind his bed is a black and white piece of a woman’s face. An image inspired by a photograph Skylen showed Armani of some old-time movie starlet. Feathers of different sizes and shades are used to frame the face, all in black. The eye, mouth, and nose are the only realistic pieces. The lips are reddish-pink, and the iris of the single eye is a soft honey brown. But the latest addition of the dark and shiny red blood dripping from that eye has taken a rather feminine piece into a more dark tone. I like it, and it seems like Skylen. He is just a little murdery, like me. Now I want Armani to add to my wall. I file that request away for later. Loki: I can sense Armani is here somewhere. You know where? Skylen finally picks himself off of the floor after he finishes stacking the money onto the bookshelf against the wall and flings himself onto his unmade bed. The hundreds of thousands he just added to what is probably well over a million is just in full view for anyone to see. He must have ran out of his little treasure chests. We have almost no secrets in this house. Many staff, but no one would be stupid enough to steal from us. Even if they had a choice, I don’t think they would. Skylen: Nope. He left to do his usual beach run. It’s been dark a while though, so he’s got to be around here somewhere. I hum. He’s predictable. He likes to run when the sun rises or sets. He hasn’t said that exactly, but the timing is too consistent to be for anything but that reason alone. Skylen: You going in tonight? Loki: I think so. You? Skylen: Yeah, I should. I’ve been slacking. Plus my private stash of meat is gone. Can’t really argue with that. I’m surprised Armani hasn’t said something. Now I’m really curious what’s been on his mind and distracting him from work. As for his private stash, I’ve been out for a long time, sneaking some other sources. Don’t tell Armani. I just need more than him. Unlike Armani, I can’t turn off what I do, my gifts. I have to live with them every minute of every day. It’s exhausting. Skylen is the same as me, needing a consistent intake. Skylen: Let me just nap, then I’ll meet you both in the closet. Loki: You won’t have long. Skylen: Power nap. Fifteen or twenty, then I’m good. Lies. But I smile as I leave. He’s sometimes like the brother I wish I never had. He is not f*****g responsible for anything or anyone. I learned a long time ago to not count on Skylen. Honestly, the fact he’s stayed here for seven years is damn impressive. I think that may be why he’s hoarding up money again. He’s planning to leave. I don’t like that thought. Us three have sort of become a little family. And since I left my last little family – tragically and in the best dramatic fashion I could – I can already feel that it will be hard to let this go. Deep down I’m just a sad little boy still, with parents who never loved him. And those who did dare to love me? They still betrayed me. Only Porter and Angel never did, so I left them. Someone always has to leave. But I did it for them, so that has to count for something. f**k, I still miss them – depressing s**t. Walking down the stairs, I enter the kitchen, where two Numbers are. Loki: Have you seen Armani around? Number 1: He’s in the basement. Doing the usual, by the sounds of it. Number 5: Been down there for over an hour now. Loki: Perfect. That means he’s deep enough into his scene that I can interrupt. I listen, and sure enough, I can pick up on the sounds, but just barely through the soundproof lining of the walls of the room. Armani likes to cool down with some foreplay. His definition and mine of “cooling down” are very different. I can’t just commit to only foreplay. I need the after part. The after part is the best part, but Armani is an edger. I f*****g hate being edged. I want my instant gratification, and I want it now. I head to the hidden door that poses as a bookshelf, which leads to the downstairs gym. It’s not a secret or anything. We just thought the idea of a hidden door was cool. I hear him walking up the stairs from behind the shelf, so I stand in the entryway, leaning against the wall, smiling. Beep. The electric sound signals he’s entered the code to open the door from the inside. I know the code, but I’ve never used it. We’re all allowed our secrets. Plus, I know how to crawl in the structure of the house to get down there, so I don’t need a code. Armani: Creepy, you waiting for me. I need to shower, then closet? Loki: Skylen is coming tonight. Armani: Good. We need new stock. Armani closes the door behind him, and the door resets. Beep. Loki: You gonna leave her down there? The smirk means yes. I smile back, just a bit curious what position he’s got her in. Again, edging. I’d hate it. Armani: She knew what she was getting into. I raise a single, well-manicured eyebrow at that. Armani: Mostly. Figures. Doesn’t matter. He’ll simply tell her she wants it, and she will. Problem solved. Dubious consent becomes full and willing consent with just a few words. ◦ ◊ ◦ Skylen ◦ ◊ ◦ Armani, still damp from his shower and covered in a white towel at his waist, walks into the shared closet that connects several bedrooms on one side of the house. Loki planned that. Supposedly it was important that we all could access the same large closet rather than having our own. Some bullshit reason about a central meeting place. I think it has more to do with him wanting input on what we wear so we don’t clash with him. I love Loki, I do, but f**k. Sometimes I could bury him and forget to dig up his body for a significant period of time. I’m an only child, so I assume this is what it feels like to have an annoying and much older brother. My dad didn’t do much right in his life when it comes to me, but not having more kids definitely gives him a checkmark in my opinion. Loki: We need to stock up our personal stashes. Armani: Didn’t we just move over a hundred pounds for you two last week? Skylen: Something like that. But you need more stock too, right? I’ll find us some tonight. Armani: Good. But you both might want to take a separate vehicle. I plan to bartend tonight. I stay out of this. There’s a bartender at Evolution, and a damn good one, but Armani likes to work behind the bar sometimes. He says it calms him down, mixing and serving drinks. I never found work relaxing, personally. I pretty much do whatever it takes to not work. If I didn’t need protein to survive, I’d sleep my life away. Loki: Doesn’t make any sense to me. Loki mutters. I roll my eyes. Armani: It calms me. Loki: Then turn down the f*****g music. Armani: That also relaxes me. Armani’s taste in music is… different. He’s into, like, old-school rock or alternative. The new stuff is s**t, but his stuff is a lot of noise. Not sure how that’s relaxing. Then again, the club scene isn’t really me. That’s why I’ll be by the bar or stalking some prey. Loki will eventually give in and dance, but he prefers his bubblegum-pop s**t. Only thing worse than Armani’s taste in music is Loki’s taste in music. I just don’t like music. That’s not true. I don’t like most music. Loki: Fine. Whatever. Be difficult. Armani smirks, taking Loki well. He’s mellowed so much since moving to the West Coast. I think back on the cocky s**t, and I like this Armani more. He’s tolerable, and sometimes he’s okay. Loki: Okay, I’ve been patient enough. I snort. Yeah, like for all of ten seconds. Loki: Something is bothering you. I can feel the tension from here. And you only bartend when you have internal s**t going on. I take a seat on a beanbag chair. Loki added these in an attempt to encourage us to have meaningful conversations in here. I use it when Loki won’t mind his own business. As long as it’s not mine he’s in, I don’t mind his busybody tendencies. I like watching him annoy others. It’s like reality TV, just with worse acting. We all have guilty pleasures. Armani: You’re going to be a nuisance all night unless I tell you, won’t you? Loki nods, no smile, just fully letting Armani know the score. Loki likes to fix things. He also likes to break them, but then he feels bad and tries to fix it. It’s hard to stay mad at him. I’ve tried many times. Armani runs a hand in his messy, dark grey waves. His hair is always long enough that he needs to brush it out of his eyes. The sides are shaved into a fade with the top long and thick. It’s a similar style to what he had when I first met him. Loki just added his stylish touches and improved it. I’m man enough and straight enough to be confident in saying that without feeling any which way about it. Armani: I’ve decided I’ll find a wife before the end of the year. Loki is silent. You know something is just that big or unexpected when you render Loki silent. I start to laugh, because… why? Skylen: The f**k? Why the f**k do you want that? The commitment, the no s*x, the little s**t kids? I am just assuming there will be kids. I hate kids. Armani tosses his hands in the air before they fall limp at his sides. Armani: And that’s why I was going to wait to tell you until after I already found her. Loki is still silent, so I fill the gap. Skylen: Okay, let me rephrase what I said. How soon do I need to move out? Loki snaps his head to me and glares. Hey, it’s Armani changing what we have going on here. I mean, I’d probably have moved on in the next year or two anyway, but I may leave sooner now. Children – I literally shiver just thinking about them. Armani: Nothing is going to change. It will be all the same, no children – yet – and one more person, a girl. Woman. He quickly corrects. I nod, accepting that kids are not happening right away. Good. Loki is still quiet, which is weird. It’s making me talk for some reason to make up for the lack of him talking. Skylen: I trust you’ll get over this phase, but you want to do this in a month? Don’t you need to date and get to know her and s**t? Loki: No. He’ll just tell her to marry him, and she will. Loki snaps, sounding upset. Armani just shrugs, not noticing or not caring. Maybe both. Armani: Pretty much. It’s mostly for whatever connections she can bring our way. If it makes you happy, I can pick one that makes your job easier. I think on that. I know he’s talking to me and not Loki. If he got in good with a family around here with connections to a consistent supply, he wouldn’t need me as much or at all. I would be free to leave whenever I wanted. No obligations. Skylen: I guess. Loki: We both need to approve of her if she’s going to be living here. Skylen: Yes, that! That’s a good point. Skylen: And she can’t be just meat. It’s too tempting. I lack self-control sometimes. I see a juicy steak dangled in front of me, and I want a nibble. That nibble turns into a bite, then… yeah… I’m getting hungry. Loki smirks at me. Armani: Agreed. I don’t want to wake up and find you snacking on her in the middle of the night. He smiles, looking a bit lighter than before. Loki: I will plan the wedding. I have the perfect color palette in mind. Armani: Uh, sure, I guess. Just let me find the girl first. Loki did a quick one-eighty. Or just pretended to put up a little push in order to get what he really wanted all along. I bet the crafty fucker, who isn’t as bad of an actor as I pretend he is, already was planning the wedding before Armani finished his declaration of marriage. I jump up, ready to get going. Skylen: Your wedding will be the gayest affair ever. Loki: Wait until you see the groomsmen’s attire. The evil smile actually makes me swallow. Skylen: I won’t be there. No way in hell is he making me wear paisley or some s**t. I like black, which I match with more black. Armani: Do you want to put some money on that? There are a few things I am sure of in life, but living as we three have for all these years now, this I am sure about. Skylen: You won’t make me. We both know that. I smirk because he has to admit I’m right, or he can lie and sound like a douche. In short, win-win for me. Armani: You’re right. I won’t, but you will be there. Loki throws me a smile over his shoulder. I just sigh. That didn’t feel like I won anything. Loki: So… what does she have to look like? Anything special in mind? Armani: I honestly haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I just made up my mind a few hours ago. We all turn into our respective closets within the closet. Armani: I guess she needs to be hot. And my age or younger. Older doesn’t do it for me. And I’m not just talking look-wise. I mean legit my age or younger. Loki: Okay. Hot, young, good aura – I roll my eyes at Loki adding to Armani’s list already. This will soon become the Loki show. I can already see him setting up a runway and parading these girls in front of Armani. That doesn’t sound that bad. Maybe Loki should take charge. Loki: Special – to avoid the Skylen-snacking problem. I chuckle as I pull on a tight pair of black, ripped pants over my equally tight black briefs. Body modesty never really existed for me, which is good since Loki has no boundaries. Hell, we’ve double-teamed more chicks together than I can count. I’ve literally felt his balls rub up against mine, and I didn’t give a s**t. I was entirely too focused on the tight cunt squeezing me. Loki’s junk, as perfect as he tells me it is – how the hell do I know if he’s right or wrong – registers at about a zero-point-five out of one thousand on my important meter. So, if his hairless balls touch mine at some point while we take a chick between us, I don’t give a s**t. Loki: And wide hips for children. Armani: That doesn’t matter. I’ll widen her if needed. Pulling my black T-shirt over my slim but fit frame, I miss the smug look I can hear in Armani’s words. When Armani was his younger douche-self, shortly after moving here, he had this brilliant idea of getting a d**k-enlargement surgery. Why? Because a big d**k means you’re a real man. He didn’t say it, but come on, it was obvious he was thinking it. I kept my opinion to myself because I did not give any shits. Loki, however, made his opinion well known and was firmly against it once he got his eyes on it. Turns out Armani had a solid eight he was packing in the first place. The doctor went in, cut something to allow it to lengthen, and added something else to increase girth. He ended up walking funny for two months. And a new problem was created. He had a hard time stuffing his now-oversized c**k into a wet cunt. I can’t even imagine him trying to f**k a chick’s ass. I’ve seen his d**k while changing. I had burst out laughing the first time I saw it post-surgery as that fucker hung between his legs. He can pierce his d**k and body all he wants to distract from that monster, but that doesn’t make it smaller. Skylen: You know what. You’ll probably have the easiest marriage in the world. Not like she can argue with you about anything. And it wouldn’t be horrible for her. She’ll have money. If she’s not into his kinks, she will be after he tells her to. Worse fates. Armani: True. I could just change her personality if she annoys me. Loki: You two are taking all the romance out of wife shopping. Hurry up. We can start tonight at the club. Armani smiles as he buttons up a dark green dress shirt, covering the n****e piercings. I’m done. I take a minute at most to pull on something black. Loki and Armani are f*****g awful. They dress, they accessorize, they spray fancy cologne s**t, fix their hair, and whatever else they do. I comb back my hair into its normal pompadour and give it two spritzes of something Loki bought me once. It makes it set without making it crunchy. That’s my extent of pampering. Loki: Put in the black jewelry, matte. Armani stops twisting on the end to a curved bar in his right eyebrow and takes it out, swapping the silver for the black as Loki suggested. He then proceeds to dress his face up in all-black matching pieces. I met him with only hidden piercings. Now it’s mostly on display. No tats though, just piercings. There are two small balls below his bottom lip that he calls a snake bite. The right eyebrow curved bar, two small spacers in his earlobes, and a straight bar that is angled in the top left of his ear shell. That’s in addition to the hoops in his n*****s, the d**k piercings, which I don’t even know all the names of, and his tongue piercing. Then you have Loki, with no piercings and sporting several tats, and me, with a random few tats that have no meaning whatsoever. Finally, after what feels like two hours of my life, they’re ready. They don’t look much different than any other day, but I don’t say that. We’d be here another fifteen minutes at least while they explained what exactly is different. Thanks, but no thanks.