Self Destructing Messenger

#15 - Wasted Youth

"Az! Azalea wake up!"

Azalea sat up slowly, her body protesting the way in which it had been contorted for the nap. "What, what?" She muttered as Cayce continued to prod her.

"They're gone," he said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

She was suddenly alert. "What in the hell are you talking about?" A look around proved his words true. Pyro and Casey were gone. She put a hand to her forehead. "I don't understand. I couldn't have been asleep that long."

"It doesn't matter. If we leave now I think I can track the kid."

"Alright. Let me grab something-" She jumped up and ran to Pyro's bedroom. When she came back she was wearing a pair of glasses and most of her blond hair tucked under a trucker hat, save a few rogue strands. The glasses were Pyro's, used when his contacts weren't in. Azalea sat them low on her nose so she could see clearly over the edge, otherwise the world was a blur.

Cayce gapped. "I am so aroused right now."

"I'm sure," she said, walking past him out the door. "Too much idol heat and my outfit is fried-"

He finished for her. "So you are Clark Kent'ing it. I get it."

The two got on the road quickly, Cayce feeling out the direction. Several tense minutes of driving later, he slowed down. There was no question where Casey and Pyro probably were. While this particular strip of city had a few buildings on it, there was only one brightly lit with more than a few cars in its parking lot. Rusty's 24 Hour Billiards and Bowling.

They sat in the car for a moment.

"This isn't as weird as a sex toy factory but I wasn't expecting it." Cayce finally said. "Why the hell here?"

Azalea tilted her head to the side. "We only really know Casey is in there, right? So maybe the child of the corn is celebrating after a successful kill."

Cayce opened his door. "We can only hope."

The interior of the game hall was almost out of a movie. Smoke hung in the air, dense and swirling over the rows and rows of pool tables. The lighting was terrible. Save for the bright green felt, everything else was colored warmly, like looking through a glass of whiskey. Several men and a few women occupied the tables, taking their shots, only glancing briefly at the newcomers.

"I don't see them," Azalea said.

Cayce gestured across the room. "There. And yay, Pie-rod is alive, yay, oh my god," he said sarcastically.

"Not for long." Azalea strode across the pool hall to a narrow alcove in the back marked 'arcade'. The entrance was wide but the room was otherwise obscured, offering only a glimpse inside. And right in that window of visibility was Pyro standing next to Casey while the boy battled away with a plastic gun. There was no warning, no words as Azalea grabbed the back of Pyro's collar and dragged him back into the main room.

"What are you doing?" She said, sharp and low.

He glared and unhooked himself from her grip. "The kid was restless. I thought I'd show him a good time. Nothing happened so calm down."

"Calm down?" She repeated. "It was not your call to make."

"She's right, you know," Cayce chimed in. Azalea and Pyro both shot him a look and he raised his hands in surrender and backed off.

Pyro dove right back in. "Isn't it my call?"

Azalea was caught off guard. "No. No it isn't. What in the world would make you think otherwise?"