The Apollo Twins

The System

Danny and Tariq approached the nondescript brick building, the bass from the music inside reverberating through the pavement beneath their feet. Graffiti tags and faded posters plastered the walls, the telltale signs of a spot well-known to the underground scene.

Danny couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness, his palms slick with sweat. This was all new to him - the secret location, the air of exclusivity, the sense of crossing a threshold into a world hidden from daylight.

Tariq, on the other hand, seemed completely in his element. He walked with a confident swagger, nodding at a few familiar faces as they made their way to the entrance.

The bouncers at the door were imposing figures, all broad shoulders and stony expressions. Tattoos snaked up their arms, disappearing under the cuffs of their black shirts. Danny watched as the people ahead of them in line approached, each one pulling out their phone and showing the screen to the bouncer.

"What are they showing them?" Danny asked, leaning in close to Tariq.

Tariq glanced at him, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. For a moment, Danny thought he saw a hint of hesitation, maybe even concern. But then it was gone, replaced by Tariq's usual easy grin.

"It's the Icarus app, mate," Tariq said, pulling out his own phone. The glow from the screen illuminated the sharp angles of his face as he tapped and swiped. "It's how you get into places like this. Proves you're part of the scene, yeah?"

Danny studied the interface over Tariq's shoulder. It was sleek and modern, with a stylized wing logo at the center. Below it, a profile page displayed Tariq's photo, along with a series of numbers and symbols Danny couldn't decipher.

"What's it for?" Danny asked, curiosity mixing with a strange sense of foreboding.

Tariq shrugged, pocketing his phone. "It's how things work around here, bruv. Your status on Icarus is everything. What you can do, who you can see, where you can go."

There was an odd note in Tariq's voice, something Danny couldn't quite place. Bitterness, maybe? Resentment?

As they reached the front of the line, Tariq held up his phone to the bouncer. The big man scanned the screen, his face impassive. Then, with a curt nod, he stepped aside, to allow Tariq pass.

When Danny made to follow, however, the bouncer held up a meaty hand. "ID," he grunted.

Danny fumbled for his wallet, his heart pounding. He wasn't even sure what kind of ID the bouncer wanted. His driver's license? His student card?

But before he could produce either, Tariq was at his side, a hand on the bouncer's arm. "He's with me, bruv. He's good."

The bouncer hesitated, his eyes flicking from Tariq to Danny and back again. For a moment, Danny thought he would refuse. But then, with a shrug, the bouncer stepped aside.

Just as they were about to enter, a commotion behind them made Danny turn. A group was approaching, their laughter and chatter cutting through the thrumming bass. They were dressed in matching maroon tracksuits, gold chains glinting at their throats. The girls with them were draped over them like accessories, all long legs and fluttering lashes.

The leader of the group was a short, wiry guy with bleached blond hair and dark skin. He walked with a swagger that bordered on arrogance, his grin wide and gleaming.

"That's Rafe," Tariq whispered, his voice tinged with awe. "He's a legend on Icarus. Top-tier status."

As if on cue, Rafe looked over, his eyes locking with Danny's. There was a challenge in that gaze, a kind of predatory assessment that made Danny's skin crawl.

The girl on Rafe's arm followed his gaze. She was stunning, with high cheekbones and full lips, her dark hair cascading down her back. When her eyes met Danny's, she smiled, slow and sultry.

Then they were past, swallowed up by the lift. Tariq let out a breath, shaking his head.

"Come on," he said, tugging at Danny's arm. "Let's head in."

As they stepped into the lift, Danny couldn't shake the feeling that he was stepping into a world he didn't fully understand. A world where status was everything, where an app could determine your worth.

They got in, finding a spot on the couches lining the walls. The trap music Danny loved pounded through the club, but the vibe was different from any party he'd been to. College ragers had nothing on this place. The social dynamics were unsettling, like some unspoken hierarchy everyone knew but him.

As they'd walked in, Danny had caught glimpses of people flashing their profiles on the Icarus app. The same app Tariq said determined your status in Manchester. It was Danny's first time hearing about it, and he couldn't wrap his head around it.

If an app decided your worth, what about people like him who didn't even know it existed? There had to be others not caught up in this, even if they knew about it. Right?

Manchester was getting weirder by the minute. Was this what Jenna meant when she warned him to watch his back?

Danny's eyes roamed the club, taking in the scene. Bodies grinding under the neon lights, moving to the relentless beat pumping from the speakers.

Tariq leaned in close, shouting over the music. "Oi, you see that guy? The one with the dreads?"

Danny followed his gaze and nodded.

"That's Liam. Man's a legend on campus. Threw the wildest rager last year, got the place shut down." Tariq laughed. "Feds busted in and everything. It was insane."

Danny chuckled, picturing the chaos.

Tariq clapped him on the shoulder. "I need a drink. Come on."

They pushed through the crowd. Bodies pressed against Danny from all sides, soft curves and hard muscles. Some of the touches seemed intentional, girls giving him looks that could drop any man to his knees.

'Get it together,' Danny told himself as they reached the bar.

Behind the counter stood a bartender with green curls falling over one eye. Chinos hugged their hips, and only the slight swell of their chest under the tank top told Danny this was a girl.

"Taji!" Tariq called, reaching over for a complex handshake that ended in a fist bump.

Taji grinned, returning the gesture with practiced ease. "What's good, Tariq? Who's your boy?"

"This is Danny, my new roomie. Danny, meet Taji, the baddest mixologist in Manchester," Tariq said, making the introductions.

Danny smiled at the exchange. Taji was covered in intricate tattoos, a ring through her nose. She had a rebellious allure that commanded attention.

Taji held out a fist, and Danny bumped it. "Good to meet you, Danny. What brings you to our ends?"

"Uh…just started at MSA today. Visual arts," Danny replied.

"An artist, eh? I can dig it." Taji's smile, Danny thought, could power the whole club.

"Yo, T, stop chatting and pour me a drink, yeah?" Tariq cut in, drumming his hands on the bar.

Taji scowled at him. "Watch your tone, fam. I ain't your servant."

Tariq held up his hands, backtracking. "My bad, my bad. You know I love you, T. Pretty please, can I get a drink?"

Rolling her eyes, Taji grabbed bottles from the shelf. "Alright, watch closely, Danny boy. I'm about to school you on the art of mixology."

She poured a generous shot of vodka into a shaker. "First, you start with the base. Vodka's a classic, but you can use gin, rum, tequila, whatever fits the vibe."

Next, she added a splash of lime juice. "Citrus is key. Balances out the booze, gives it a fresh kick."

She reached for a bottle of simple syrup, adding a precise measure. "Sweetness to round it out. Simple syrup's a bartender's best friend."

Taji cracked some ice into the shaker. "Always use fresh ice. Keeps it crisp, yeah?"

She capped the shaker, giving it a vigorous shake. The sound of ice rattling against metal cut through the music. "Shake it like you mean it. Wakes up the flavors, gets 'em all friendly with each other."

With a flourish, Taji strained the drink into a chilled glass. A slice of lime perched on the rim as a garnish. "And there you have it. A perfectly balanced cocktail."

When she slid the glass to him, Danny hesitated. "I don't really drink."

Tariq raised an eyebrow. "How else you going to survive this madness?"

But Taji waved him off. "When I mix a drink for someone, they drink it. And they enjoy it." Her tone left no room for argument.

"Yes, ma'am," Danny said, taking a careful sip. The burn of alcohol was smoothed by the perfect blend of sweet and sour. It was damn good, he had to admit.

Tariq, waiting for his own drink, was instead handed a bottle of tequila.

"Be more careful how you talk to me," Taji warned with a saccharine smile.

Grumbling, Tariq snatched the bottle and stalked off towards a group hollering his name. Danny recognized them as the guys who invited them here.

As Tariq joined them, the one called JB waved at Danny. Danny waved back, noticing how Tariq's shoulders tensed. Like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Only means they haven't sunk their claws in you yet," Taji remarked, polishing glasses.

Danny turned to her, the question in his eyes.

Taji shrugged. "Guys like JB, they only care about themselves. Look."

Danny did. Tariq was surrounded by the group, laughing as they pushed and jabbed at each other.

"It's an act," Taji said. "This system, it doesn't let anything good last. JB and his boys..." She shook her head. "Their kind ain't the company you want. Tariq's learning that the hard way."

Watching his new friend, Danny sensed the discomfort under Tariq's jovial mask. Like he was trapped. His attempts to warn Danny off made more sense now.

Taji's voice pulled Danny's focus back. "Watch yourself, kid. Keep your wits about you." Her eyes drilled into his. "Cause 'round here, we're all just tryna stay afloat."

They stayed at the bar a bit longer, Danny asking Taji questions while Tariq hung with JB's crew. Where's she from? How long has she worked here? Each answer came with a story, her dry humor making Danny laugh.

But he couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Tariq. The more Tariq drank, the louder and more animated he got. But his laughter rang false in Danny's ears.

"Oi, Tariq," Danny called, seeing his chance when JB stepped away. "You good, bro?"

Tariq blinked at him, his grin too wide. "Yeah, man. All good. Why?"

Danny shrugged. "Just checkin'. Thought maybe you'd want to bounce soon."

For a second, relief flashed in Tariq's eyes. But then JB was back, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Nah, fam. The night's just starting. We got plans. Right, Tariq?"

Tariq's smile faltered. "Right. Yeah. 'Course."

Danny frowned. "You sure? We got that thing tomorrow, remember?"

It was a lie, but Danny held Tariq's gaze, willing him to take the out.

But Tariq just shook his head. "Nah, it's cool. I'll catch you later, yeah?"

As Danny watched him disappear into the crowd with JB, a sinking feeling settled in his gut. Taji touched his arm.

"You tried. That's more than most would do."

Danny sighed, turning back to her. "I just met the guy, but I can tell he's solid, you know? I don't like seeing him caught up in whatever this is."

"That's the game." Taji's smile was sad. "You play, or you get played. No in between."

The music changed, a new song making the crowd scream in recognition. Bodies surged onto the dance floor. Danny scanned the mass of people, but there was no sign of Tariq.

He thought about what Taji said. About how everyone here was just trying to survive. Is that all this was? Survival?

Looking at the faces around him, the desperation hidden under the flashing smiles and wild abandon, Danny started to understand.

***