Between the food Cain ate at home and the pizza he ate at Gino’s, the quantity consumed was spatially incompatible with his body. It seemed that the more he ate, the less satisfied he was. His migraine, sore throat, and hunger all worsened as he threw up violently. The grimy restroom’s odors assaulting his nostrils were simply indescribable.
The feeling was strangely nostalgic. When he was four, there was a time not unlike this where he was sick for several days.
A old tune rung out from his pocket, interspersing the sloshing sound within the pipes. Without even checking the caller ID, Cain knew who it was.
“I’ve received word that the Steel contract has gone through. Excellent work.”
“You know, you’ve made a fine businessman in what little time you’ve had.”
“Truly, I could not be more proud. And how is Ava doing?”
“Ah… That’s good to hear.”
“Well, there’s another meeting I need you to attend. It’s not formal -- god knows that he’s not gonna wear anything resembling business attire... It's a, uh, man you may have met before when you were younger. His wares are unique, and unlike your previous deals, I am entrusting their appraisal to you.”
“I am glad to have you around, Cain. This whole ordeal would be a lot tougher if you weren’t. I’ll have the merchant contact you soon. Until then, you should relax for a bit. Keep up the good work.”
Cain stared at the phone for a moment then returned it to his pocket.
What now. There was no answer.
Cain found himself prowling through the dark streets, pursuing something seeming so near yet impossibly out of his reach. His anguish had exacerbated to something he had never felt before. It was as if his sense of self was hollowing, as if he was losing grasp on his soul. Perhaps, Cain came to theorize, there was some sort of anchor which tied one to their body in life that was lost upon death. Without such, oblivion beckoned. But there were w͜͜ay̸s̛ around th҉̸̸i̸̛s̸,̷̨ ́͞Ca̡̡̡i͠n.̨
He stopped in front of a shiny puddle on the sidewalk. It was too dark to see any of his reflection except for his bright green eyes. Cain understood that he was not long for this world. Even knowing this, he did not have the will to change that. N̡ot̛̀ ̡͡y̴et̴͟, át̵̨͢ ̛l̷̢é̢͜ą͏ş̢͠t.
W-What? Cain did a double take. For the briefest of moments, he could’ve sworn his eyes flashed red.
It was only shortly after that Cain found himself face to face with the burly bouncer at the entrance to the Trance nightclub. Cain provided an ID with an age about five years older than his own, and doing so, took a closer look at the guard. He was the muscular type, the kind of guy you wouldn't want to end up in a fight with. Certainly someone who worked out. Cain could only imagine how much blood was coursing through those veins he glimpsed on his arms...
The bouncer looked at Cain incredulously, but handed back the fake and let him in.
Cain supposed he was here to drown his worries; masking his qualms with alcohol was one of his great talents. The bustling crowd around Cain did not do much to lift his spirits, and contrasted his dreary mood. In fact, the noise was painfully loud. They seemed to move away from him as he walked, as if those nearest could sense his angst. Or perhaps it was just survival instinct.
He made his way to the bar. Only after he had a drink in his hand did he notice the other two individuals there. A bombastic man and tall woman in the beginning what Cain assumed to be the carnal ritual that so often occurred in clubs like these. And as Cain learned that alcohol was still effective in his new state an unfamiliar form of carnality arose. The gaze which was once only passing and curious turned to carnivorous and predatory. Cain unconsciously licked his lips, and as he did, felt his two incisors jutting outwards like tiny knives in his mouth.
Cain turned away and raised a hand to his mouth, both appalled and confused by himself. But even as he did so, his stomach loudly growled.