Pistis Darren - The Ancients Card

## Darren is Home

And it's a Saturday night.

The city below is teeming with emerging party rats making their way to the bars.

He sits in his reading chair with the black card from the recruiter, twisting it in the light. The gold on the laurel shimmers as he moves it. As he inspects it, he sees very small jewels and diamonds inlaid in the golden design.

Darren's phone buzzes at the wood table beside him.

He picks it up to see a text from an eccentric friend of his by the name of Westen.

"Chicks are out in force tonight. Clubs. Let's do it. What time are you coming out?"

Darren sets the black card down next to the pile of books and rubs the temples on his forehead. He considers himself adopted by his extroverted friend. Westen admitted as such that lots of his friends are party animals and irresponsible. He usually always has a catastrophe when he's around them. And he only gets a text when things are about to be extra crazy.

It means he needs an anchor.

Someone responsible.

Darren finds hate for himself at being so responsible. Respectful.

Like a pushover.

An alone pushover on a Saturday night without a date or even a prospect.

He rakes his fingers through his thick black hair and feels the torn seams of his mind. The last date he went on at Donatello's really did make him give up. Deleting the application felt like an invitation for more spam mail, as his inbox is now flooded with more requests for him to return back to his monthly payments and redownload the app.

He picks up the card.

As he looks at it and thinks of the 'recruiter' that gave him this, he can't help but to think it's another scam.

Another request for money.

Another hand squeezing the blood out of the rock in his mind.

But the shift from receiving the card has him thinking differently. The more he holds it, the more mending seems to happen. It gives him thoughts.

Dirty thoughts.

About what he *really* wants.

*Fuck it, lets experiment. See if this works,* he thinks.

He text's Westen.

"Which club?"

---

## Lucifer's Lace

It's the kind of club you have to dress up for, which Darren does in a conservative manner. A black silk shirt under one of his fitted business suits is enough to keep the cold at bay, but not the joking and jeering of Westen by the time he meets them in line.

"Come from a funeral or something?" his googly eyed friend says with a laugh.

"I did put my dating life to rest, so yes. These are my mourning clothes," Darren says.

Westen puts a hand over Darren's shoulder as they get closer to the bouncer to get in.

"Don't worry, dude. Those apps are crap. You gotta meet women the old fashioned way. Just walk up to them and start talking to them," he says.

"You know I don't have that kind of moxy that you have. That's never been easy for me."

"Look. I'll get a fire started for us. Get some pussy coming your way. This place has some freaks in it, so it'll be like stabbing fish in a bucket. But you gotta buy the first round."

Darren exhales and lets the cold myst of his breath gather in front of his face.

He knows he'll be buying *all* of the rounds. Westen will dangle women in front of him like this all night for beers.

They step up to the bouncer.

"Cover charge is $50 for single gentlemen," the burly bald man says.

Darren exhales again and fishes into this pocket for his wallet. He finds himself wishing he could look at the card the recruiter gave him to feel the mending in his mind.

---

## After the First Round, Westen is Gone

Off to bring back the crazy ladies he says he'll find for Darren.

But Darren finds himself nursing his jin and tonic near a cold window as the music and red lights blast his senses. He scans the crowd looking for his dusty friend.

The throngs of dancing bodies in club wear and musty cologne blocks his view.

Seams in his mind start to break again and Darren takes a long pull of his drink.

As he does, he sees a couple come into the club. They're older, probably in their early forties. The man has a stout jaw but a pot belly. His wife is platinum blonde with short hair and a bust to make up for her short stature.

He catches her blue eyes as they walk to the bar.

The man says something into her ear and he heads to the bar.

She looks at him again.

*Fuck it. Lets give his a try,* thinks Darren.

He walks over.

"Hi there," Darren begins.

"I'm married," she says right back.

"I know."

The woman gives him a look of surprise mixed with suspicion.

"Are you guys out celebrating or just partying for the evening? Any special occasion?" Darren starts.

"Traveling, actually. I go with him on business trips sometimes. We're just here until tomorrow," she says.

"That's cool. Just here to drink?" he asks.

"I don't know, maybe," she says, shifting her weight and running a hand from her hair behind her ear. "What about you? Looking for trouble? Lots of ladies your age are running around for the same thing you're looking for I bet."

"No. Actually none of them are my type," Darren says.

"What? Smart?" says the blonde woman, smiling at her own remark.

"No. Single," Darren says, looking her dead in the eye.

Darren can detect just a hint of an eyebrow raise and a smile as they hold each other's gaze. She goes to say something just as her husband comes back and hands her a drink.

"This asshole bothering you?" he yells over the music and points at Darren.

"Nice to meet you too," says Darren.

But the bombshell wife leans into her husband's ear, holding Dareens gaze.

At that moment, he feels parts of his mind coming together. The risk he took to touch the part of his darkest desires gives way to entirely new parts of his mind. The clouds of dating apps, pretentious husband hunters, and advertisements become nothing but vapor as his mind massages the idea that really turns him on.

*It would be fun if he watched me and his wife.*

The husband at first listens to his wife then his face freezes. His eyes go cold and he looks at his wife with disgust.

"Look, I was wondering if you--," but Darren never gets to finish his sentence.

A large fist fills his vision and he never gets a chance to duck. It smashes his nose with full force and he feels blood immediately flow into his face. The pain rises as fast as he falls and crashes into people, hitting his back on the edge of a table, and crashes to the ground.

"You sick fuck!" yells the husband.

Through the forced tears and blood in his eyes, Darren can see the wife holding him back and slapping him on the chest, chastising him for his jealous reaction.

Darren feels himself forced up by his arms by two bouncers who don't ask questions. They just drag him out of the club while everyone watches and throw him onto the curb.

"Fucking idiot," one of them says.

Darren gets off the ground and feels dizzy, but he doesn't bother trying to hold his nose.

He lets the blood run and the pain hits him.

He lets the pain remind him that this is no longer his place. That clubs, dating apps, and regular dating is no longer where he needs to find what he needs. What urgings and feelings he once had go black and bleed out of him through his nose, spattering onto the cold concrete without anything to hold them back.

Darren looks at the bouncers as he stands, then looks down the street towards his home.

"Well, not a bad place to put my single dating life to rest," he says.

Darren spits blood on the ground in front of the bouncers and turns to walk home.

He turns his phone off and lets the cold wind press its gentle breeze on his face to heal him.

---

## Darren Sits in His Chair Bleeding

Although most of his suit is ruined and much of the blood is dry, it still drips out as he sits and looks over the city skyline from his reading chair.

He lets the dark apartment hug him.

And then, to finally comfort himself, he picks the card back up.

Feeling it in the dark, that sense of mending, that feeling of darkness in his mind, is there and prominent. He lets his fingers run across the edge of the card to continue to soothe himself. For the first time all night, he doesn't feel quite alone.

And then, near one of the corners of the card, he feels it.

Some type of gap.

He fingers it with his nail, working it gently at first then digging in a little harder.

A little latch pops open.

And he looks down, angling it in the dark to allow the city light to illuminate the side.

It's a USBC charging port.