Oya sat on the indoor balcony and observed the partygoers at Entourage. Their clothes revealed their desire to impress. Her own outfit was a top that read ‘Savage’ and an African print skirt. Her green wig felt a bit over-the-top for undercover work, but none of the partygoers gave her a second glance. She sipped on her iced tea. Nothing threatening. Nothing to worry about. Oya sighed. She was so old. Maybe her instincts were getting blunted.
She finished her iced tea and headed downstairs. The music was too loud, so she headed past the ‘Staff Only’ sign into the kitchen and through the back door. The alley smelled of piss and stale beer. A group of men were huddled together. A woman was lying on the ground. They were trying to remove her clothes, but she was struggling, keeping their hands away from the bottom half of her body.
“What a sexy little thing!” said one of the men.
“Ja, ja, maak gou,” said another.
Oya watched as the woman punched one of the men in the jaw. She grabbed another man’s hair and slammed his head against a wall. They didn’t like that and proceeded to beat her. Oya stepped forward and cleared her throat loudly. The men stopped and looked over to her.
“Voetsek!” they yelled in unison. Oya stepped even closer.
“I find it fascinating that humans are still this primitive,” Oya said softly. “How can you enjoy violence this much?”
“Are you deaf? Leave before we fuck you up too!”
“I’d love to see you attempt it.”
The men charged towards her. She raised her arms and snapped her fingers. The men were stopped in their tracks, frozen. Oya slapped two of the men and they fell to the ground.
The woman was moaning so Oya went to her and helped her up. She’d been heavily beaten, but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage. She grabbed the woman’s arm and rubbed the top of her own head.
Anyone watching would have seen the two women vanish.
* * * * *
“What …? What just happened?” the woman moaned, holding her head.
“We … now then … let me make sure you can understand this. We … teleported.”
“How …? What?”
“I’ll explain later. Are you badly injured?”
“Just a few bruises, thanks to you arriving when you did.” The woman looked around Oya’s cramped room. “Where are we?”
“This is my home for now. It’s not the best, but I like it.”
“You saved me–”
“I know, I know. Tell me, what’s your name? I am Oya.”
“I’m Michelae.”
“Nice to meet you, Michelae. Stay still”
Oya took hold of Michelae’s hands and a yellowish glow seeped into the bruises and wounds. She was healed in an instant.
Michelae stared at her. “This is too weird to take in. I mean … thank you and all that, but–”
Oya smiled. “I know. Most people find me a bit much when they meet me for the first time.”
Michelae nodded slowly. “I can see that they would. But for now,” – she spoke carefully, as if she was afraid of offending Oya – “can you please take me home?”
“There’s no need to be afraid, Michelae. But of course. I’ll get you back right now. Take my hand and think of home.”
Oya rubbed her head and they vanished.
***
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