Chapter 3 - Exciting Plans

                                    

                                          
"My girlfriend's savior!" Jeran said, his words slurred and forehead dripping with sweat, me reeling from the anger I felt after my brief interaction with the other idiots. As we entered the Dive Bar in the Academy's now vivacious party district, I saw Nash and Feign and bristled at their sight. Nash was one of the people who didn't like me, and so was Feign, but one of the reasons why it was worse was that he was my kryptonite. 
An enemy with your actual walking deadly allergic reaction was an enemy indeed. Nash's curly blonde hair fell in short, defined ringlets around his dead. His amber-colored eyes were dark with a scowl. He snorted and brought a drink to his lip, no longer sparing me a glance. 
Feign held less fear toward me, boldly standing out of his seat and holding a glass for me to drink. "Here," he says with a slick smile. I stared down at the drink, a dark-colored substance slowly floating within it. My skin instantly crawled, but I stepped closer instead of stepping back. His eyes widened, and he stepped back to create some distance, plastering on a brave face. "It's just a joke, legacy. Learn to take one." 
Even he wanted to throw that in my face. If Director Penn's warnings weren't echoing in my ears, I would've thrown him into a table by now. I slowed the blood pulsing through my veins at an erratic pace. 
"Handing me a drink laced with my kryptonite isn't a joke," I scolded. "Take a seat before I embarrass you." He glowered but still complied, walking away and shooting me a hate-filled gaze. 
"You handled that great," Cecily reassured me, squeezing my hand and pulling me toward Jeran. 
"Cecily told me about how you saved her," he said, his words holding a sober weight. "I can't thank you enough. Seriously, Azira." 
"You both would've done it for me," I replied honestly. 
"True that." He slapped me in the back, and I slightly stumbled forward before facing the bar again. "A pickleback shot for one of my favorite heroes."
The man behind the bar smiled. We frequented this place—a lot—but someone was new there that day. He looked friendly enough and a good sport with Jeran's intoxicated state. He grabbed the Jameson and pickle juice shots, placing them in front of me. I didn't hesitate to throw them back.
"Atta girl," Jeran said. He looked back at Cecily with a bright smile. "How was your briefing today, baby?"
She ran her hand over his slicked-back hair with a grin. "It went great, actually. I'm feeling a lot more confident about everything." 
I sat next to her, hoping that to be true. It felt like a suicide mission—a death sentence—to send her off over there. The town he fought most people in had been abandoned for years, a perfect spot to battle him without harming innocent civilians.
Only caveat was that you were alone with him. 
"Why don't they send more of us?" I practically seethed. "Why just you?"
She looked at me calmly. "He's a powerful enemy, but sending in too many of us at once can cause him to act erratically—and more potential lives will be unnecessarily lost." 
I clenched my fingers into my palm until they dug deeply into the skin. "So let him react erratically. At least it's three versus one, which practically counts as three." 
"Z, you know why they won't do that." Her brows knit together as she sighed. "And if you go on again about the Academy sending out scapegoats—" 
"They are sending out scapegoats!" 
She sighed again. "Zira, please." 
"You're way too okay with potentially dying." 
Her eyes flash with the slightest ounce of fear I've seen her display, instantly flooding me with guilt. "Cecily, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"