The guy suddenly unzips his trousers and pulls them down.
Kyle is taken aback, his entire body stiffening as his eyes widen in a mix of alarm and disbelief.
He wasn't expecting that. Not even close. His mind instantly scrambles to process what's happening, half-expecting some absurd trick or twisted joke.
But instead, the guy simply holds the trousers out to him.
Kyle just stands there, frozen for a beat, blinking hard. His gaze flickers from the man's face to the pants and back again.
The man's expression is just the same smirk.
Then, without ceremony, Kyle steps forward and takes them.
The fabric is warm from the guy's body, loose in Kyle's grip, but he doesn't let that slow him.
He pulls them on, awkwardly fumbling to keep them up over his narrow frame. They hang off him, oversized and low on his waist. But they cover him. That's all that's needed.
The guy, now standing in just a short that clings tight to his toned legs, shrugs off his jacket.
His movements are unhurried, like this is all a normal routine.
He offers it to Kyle too. Kyle doesn't hesitate this time. He slips it on, and the fabric cocoons him with the faint smell of sweat, leather, and something else he can't name_ sharp, earthy, and wild. Maybe magic.
Maybe just the man himself.
The guy stares at him for a second. His eyes sweep over Kyle, unreadable, calculating, and maybe, just maybe, a little impressed. Then, without a word, he turns and begins to walk away.
Kyle follows.
Leaves rustle beneath their feet, the air thick with silence and the aftertaste of tension.
The forest around them thins slowly as they approach the edge.
Shafts of light pierce through the canopy above, slicing the shadows. Kyle keeps adjusting the pants as he walks, holding them by the waist to stop them from slipping.
Just ahead, parked beneath the shade of a half-bare tree, is a car. A sleek black thing that gleams faintly in the dappled sunlight.
It looks completely out of place here, luxury parked at the boundary of wilderness. Its windows are dark, its body spotless. Every line on it speaks of control and power.
The guy reaches it first and slides into the driver's seat like he's returning to a throne.
Kyle pauses.
He stands there for a moment, gripping the waistband of the oversized trousers, and stares at the car.
He doesn't know this man.
Doesn't know where they're going. Doesn't know what will happen if he gets in that car.
But then he remembers: he needs answers. And anyone who knows anything about what's happening to him, whether they're enemies or not, is a lead he cannot afford to ignore.
He'll find others, wether they are enemies or alliances.
He walks to the back door and tries to pull it open. Locked.
There's a soft click, and the guy opens the passenger door instead. Kyle doesn't waste time questioning it. He slides into the seat, the door closing with a quiet finality beside him.
The car hums to life, engine purring smoothly.
Kyle doesn't speak. He wants to. The questions claw at his throat. But something holds him back.
He certainly doesn't trust himself to ask the right question first.
The guy begins humming, a low, haunting melody that drifts lazily through the space between them.
It feels familiar.
For a while, all Kyle can hear is that melody. It coils in the air, wraps around his thoughts like mist.
"Aren't you even going to ask my name?" the guy finally says, breaking the silence.
Kyle doesn't even look at him.
"Anyway, call me Justine Justice. The last name I gave myself because I'm actually living for justice. So you can call me JJ, or..."
"I've just been wondering, is it a must you take me wherever you are taking me for you to tell me what I need to know?" Kyle cuts him off, already feeling the guy's talkative nature pressing on his nerves.
"Whoa, whoa... that's really rude. First, you cut me off, and then the way you're speaking to me is just a bad request. You're gonna have to chill and be polite if you want any help, especially from me," he says.
Kyle, understanding what the rudeness is aimed at, fires back. "I don't remember asking for your help. You asked if you could help, and I said yes. But honestly, I'm not that desperate. And if you think I'm going to beg for your help, I'm sorry, but that's not happening. Just stop the car, I'll get out and go my own way." Justine looks at him, clearly stunned.
Kyle tries to open the door while the car is still moving, but he stops him.
"Okay, fine! I'll tell you, but don't blame me when the truth... Ugh, just know, this isn't the right place for you to hear what you're about to hear."
~This is exactly what Kyle wanted to know. If this guy was still willing to talk after being rude, and he is even almost begging for Kyle to hear it, then he must really have a reason for sharing this information.
Maybe he's trying to get something out of it. Whatever he says could be a lie, or maybe it's the truth, but a twisted version of it.
Now Kyle has a clearer idea of what kind of person he's dealing with. Even if he's wrong, at least he has something to go on.
"You have no idea what I can handle, anywhere, anytime. Come on," Kyle says.
Though he's come to terms with the fact that the man might not be telling the truth, a sense of panic still stirs within him. Whatever this man says, it has to be connected to the truth.
The anticipation is unbearable.
"Okay, Kyle. First..."
As he speaks, the car slows, then comes to a stop.
Kyle's attention shifts out the window.
They're no longer surrounded by trees. Now, in front of them, stands a house. Not massive, but refined.
A clean, tall building that rises neatly from the ground like it was placed there with purpose.
Smooth black walls, glossy windows, faint markings just barely visible against the trim, like symbols etched by time or by hands that knew ancient things.