The Binder

The symphony of a typical morning in Zeb's rundown apartment complex jolted him awake. The soundproofing was nonexistent, letting in every noise: cars honking, neighbors arguing, children laughing and yelling as they prepared for school, and the clatter of early risers bustling about. Zeb groaned, stretching his arms as he sat up on the creaky sofa, which doubled as his bed most nights.

The small studio apartment was humble, with bare walls and secondhand furniture, but it was functional. For Zeb, it was enough. Comfort and aesthetics were luxuries he couldn't afford. Surviving was his priority.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he reached for his phone on the coffee table. Today, he had a clear plan: head to his old workplace, pick up his final paycheck, and say goodbye to his boss. Despite the tension of being fired, Zeb respected his boss and didn't want to leave on bad terms.

He got up, washed up, and dressed in his usual attire—a plain, slightly faded shirt paired with old but clean pants. While his natural good looks could easily shine with the right wardrobe, Zeb had no time or money for such concerns. Practicality came first.

Zeb pedaled his trusty e-bike through the bustling city streets, the morning sun warming his face. It was a half-hour ride to his workplace downtown, a routine he had followed for years. He stopped at a small bakery on the way, buying a piece of bread, which he ate as he rode. The simple meal was another testament to his no-frills lifestyle.

As he turned onto a busier road, a sudden movement caught his eye. A young woman, likely in her mid-twenties, dashed across the street without warning. She was dressed in flashy, luxurious clothes and looked above average, perhaps thanks to her makeup. Zeb hit the brakes hard, but the e-bike skidded, sending him tumbling onto the pavement. He crashed into a metal post with a loud thud, the impact shooting pain up his back.

Groaning, Zeb pushed himself up, wincing. The woman stood there, glaring at him, her face contorted with disdain.

"Watch where you're going, you reckless idiot!" she snapped, her voice sharp and accusatory. "Do you know how expensive my outfit is? And my body? Do you even realize what you almost did?"

Dumbfounded, Zeb stared at her. "What?" he managed, still processing her tirade. "You ran into the street where there's clearly a 'No Crossing' sign. I crashed because I was trying not to hit you!"

The woman crossed her arms, sneering. "Excuses. Poor people like you always make excuses."

Zeb clenched his jaw, biting back a retort. He wasn't one to pick fights, especially over someone so irrational. Shaking his head, he dusted himself off, checked his e-bike for damage, and rode away, muttering under his breath. "What a way to start the day."

By the time Zeb reached Ferox, the sorting hub where he had worked for two years, his back still ached from the fall, and his mood hadn't improved. He parked his e-bike and walked into the building, the familiarity of the place stirring a mix of nostalgia and regret. The sounds of machinery and workers chatting filled the air, reminding him of the countless hours he'd spent here.

As he made his way to the manager's office, he exchanged brief greetings with former colleagues, their smiles tinged with curiosity. Reaching the door, he knocked, and a familiar voice called out, "Come in."

Pushing the door open, Zeb froze in surprise. Sitting across from his boss was the same woman who had berated him earlier. She turned, recognition flickering in her eyes, and immediately launched into another tirade.

"It's you! The reckless e-bike guy!" she said, her tone dripping with contempt. "Do you know how close you came to ruining my entire day? If something had happened to me, how would you have compensated me? My clothes alone are worth more than your bike!"

Zeb stared at her, too stunned to speak for a moment. Then he said calmly, "You were the one who ran across a no-crossing zone. If anything, I should be the one angry at you for making me crash into a post."

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't try to turn this on me, you—"

"Enough!" the manager interrupted, raising his hand. "Do you two know each other?"

Both Zeb and the woman replied simultaneously, "No."

The manager sighed, clearly exasperated. "Zeb, why are you here? You know you've been fired, right? Two weeks without any notice—it's unacceptable."

"I know, boss," Zeb said, his voice steady but apologetic. "I'm sorry. Something came up, and it was my fault for not communicating. I just came to pick up my remaining pay and say goodbye. I appreciate the opportunities you gave me."

The woman scoffed loudly. "How noble," she said sarcastically. "A jobless bum trying to act dignified."

Zeb turned to her, his patience wearing thin. "Look, I don't know who you are, and frankly, I don't care. But your attitude is unnecessarily rude. Maybe think before you speak next time."

The manager interjected again, addressing the woman. "Rhea, that's enough. Zeb's a former employee, and he's just here for his final check. Let's not make this personal."

Rhea huffed, crossing her arms but finally falling silent.

"Zeb," the manager continued, "go to HR and collect your pay. Best of luck to you."

"Thanks, boss," Zeb said, his tone respectful. He turned to leave, shooting one last glance at Rhea. She glared back, her expression full of indignation. Zeb shook his head and walked out, relieved to be done with the encounter.

Zeb arrived at the HR office, stepping into the small, cluttered room where Donna, the HR officer, was busy typing away on her computer. She looked up and greeted him with a warm smile.

"Zeb! Long time no see," she said, gesturing for him to sit.

"Hey, Donna," Zeb replied, taking the offered chair. "I'm here for my final paycheck."

"Of course. Just give me a minute to process it," Donna said, pulling out some paperwork.

As she worked, Zeb leaned forward, curiosity getting the better of him. "Hey, Donna, who's the visitor in the boss's office? I ran into her earlier."

Donna stopped typing for a moment, her expression shifting to one of mild amusement. "Oh? You saw her? That's Rhea. She's from the shipping company we partner with—they handle all our deliveries."

Then, leaning in conspiratorially, Donna dropped her voice to a whisper. "Between you and me, I think she's the mistress of the shipping company's boss. That might explain why she acts so high and mighty. She's got a reputation for being... difficult."

Zeb chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "That explains a lot. I ran into her earlier—literally. She was crossing the street out of nowhere, and I almost crashed trying to avoid her. Instead of apologizing, she went off on me like it was my fault."

Donna rolled her eyes. "Sounds about right. I've dealt with her a few times, and let's just say she's not the most pleasant person. Anyway, I'm almost done with your paperwork."

The two continued their small talk, Donna sharing some light gossip about the office and Zeb recounting his plans—or lack thereof—for the future. After a few minutes, Donna handed him his check.

"Here you go," she said, smiling warmly. "Good luck, Zeb. Got any big plans now?"

Zeb tucked the check into his pocket, nodding in gratitude. "Thanks, Donna. No big plans yet. I'll figure it out, though. One step at a time."

Donna waved him off cheerfully. "I'm sure you will. Take care, Zeb. And don't be a stranger!"

Zeb returned to his apartment, exhausted but relieved to have closed that chapter of his life. He set the check on his tiny kitchen counter, glancing at it for a moment before shaking his head. It wasn't much, but it would keep him afloat for a little while.

He spent the rest of the day tidying up his apartment and preparing for tomorrow.

Zeb, scrolling through his phone and looking for spots to make an impression, decided on Lustre Galleria Grande, a renowned shopping mall located downtown in the Luxe District. It was a sprawling shopping square, a bit on the luxurious side, fitting perfectly within the district's image of opulence. The mall housed numerous famous brands and fine-dining restaurants, making it an ideal setting for a memorable outing.

The Luxe District itself was like a living advertisement for wealth. Streets lined with gleaming storefronts and vibrant displays made it feel like stepping into another world. Luxury sports cars frequently cruised past, their engines growling softly like cats purring in contentment. Occasionally, a famous model could be spotted, their presence lighting up the district even further. It wasn't uncommon to see photographers stationed at corners, waiting for the perfect shot—whether of the architecture, the glamorous clientele, or the district's overall aesthetic.

This place came highly recommended by Zayn, Zeb's ever-adventurous friend and self-proclaimed expert on all the best spots in the city. Zeb figured it wouldn't hurt to take Zayn's advice this time; after all, Zayn's reputation for knowing how to have a good time was well-earned.

Having finalized his choice and wrapped up his "study session" on dating etiquette (courtesy of endless YouTube videos and articles), Zeb's phone rang, breaking his concentration.

"Riiing! Riiing!"

He glanced at the screen. It was his sister, Zendaya. Answering the call, he spoke in his usual flat tone, "Hello."

A cheerful voice greeted him from the other end. "Hi, brother! Just calling to check on you. Mom's been worried since you haven't messaged us in weeks."

Zeb let out a small sigh, leaning back on the couch. "I'm fine. Just been busy with work and... other stuff. Tell Mom not to worry, okay?"

"Well, you know how she is," Zendaya replied with a chuckle. "She's practically convinced you're living off instant noodles and chaos."

Zeb smirked, amused. "Not entirely wrong," he muttered. Then, steering the conversation, he asked, "How about you? How's school?"

"Oh, it's been hectic!" she exclaimed with mock despair. "Midterm exams are coming up, and I'm drowning in assignments. I swear, if this keeps up, my eyebags will be so bad I'll look like a panda."

Zeb couldn't help but laugh. "You're being dramatic. I'm sure you still look fine. Besides, pandas are cute."

"Haha, thanks for the reassurance," she teased. "But seriously, don't forget to update us once in a while. Mom will have a heart attack if you go off the grid again."

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Zeb promised. "Don't stress too much, okay? You'll ace those exams, as always."

"You know it!" Zendaya replied, her voice lifting with confidence. "Anyway, I've got to hit the books again. Take care, okay? And send a message—don't make me chase you down."

"Got it. Bye," Zeb said with a faint smile before hanging up.

He stared at his phone for a moment, a fleeting warmth spreading through him. His sister always had a way of grounding him, even when life felt like it was teetering on the edge of chaos.

Placing the phone down, Zeb took a deep breath, refocusing his thoughts on the task ahead.

The brothers, each in their own homes, were also making their preparations for tomorrow. Marcus, always confident and composed, had no real struggle. He didn't need to overthink it; his usual style—elegant but understated—was perfect for the mission ahead. His attire would be sharp, business-class, like he was walking into a high-profile meeting. It was simple but undeniably expensive. The kind of outfit that gave the impression he belonged in the background, quietly watching from the shadows.

Ruzzel, in his usual cheerful manner, had already picked out an outfit that suited his personality—a mix of casual and cute, perfect for blending in without drawing attention. A cozy hoodie, comfortable yet stylish sneakers, and well-fitted jeans would ensure he didn't stick out in the crowd. His role would be more on the discreet side, moving in and out of the scene with his usual charm, just a friendly face blending in where needed.

Zayn, however, was having a crisis. Unlike his brothers, he thrived on attention and grandeur. But this time, tomorrow's mission wasn't about showing off or being the center of attention. He needed to tone down his usual extravagant flair—something that didn't come easy to him. As he stood in front of his closet, frustration bubbled inside him.

He pulled out a jacket and examined it, only to toss it aside with a sigh. It was too flashy. Another jacket came out—too understated. "Ugh, why is this so difficult?" he muttered to himself.

Zayn's task was to observe and report—discreetly. He had to blend in without being noticed, which was completely against his nature. This time, no sequins, no loud prints. He needed to be a shadow, hidden in plain sight, ready to follow Zeb's date and gather information.

After a few more minutes of pacing and trying on various outfits, Zayn finally settled on something a bit more subdued than his usual choices—a dark, tailored jacket, paired with sleek black jeans and dress shoes. But it still felt off. He needed to look casual enough to blend in, but also be prepared to jump into action at any moment. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

Meanwhile, Marcus had already finished his preparation. His outfit was laid out neatly, every crease and fold in place. He had always been the methodical one, and the mission tomorrow would be no different.

Ruzzel, while keeping his usual playful charm, had everything ready as well. His laid-back style made him the perfect undercover operative for blending into any situation without raising suspicion.

As they finished their preparations, Zayn called up Ruzzel. "Hey, do you have those earphones? You know, the kind that connect to each other like secret agents use?"

Ruzzel, who had already set aside his casual outfit, grinned and replied, "You mean the ones that make us look like we're on a covert mission? Yeah, I've got them. I figured we'd need them, so I grabbed four sets. I'll get them ready."

With that, Ruzzel made sure to connect all four earphones to each other, creating a seamless communication line between all the brothers. It would allow them to stay in contact without Zeb suspecting anything, each of them able to listen in on the other's movements and share information in real-time. It was perfect. They'd be like agents in an action movie, coordinating their every move through discreet whispers and signals.

Zayn couldn't help but smirk as he looked at his phone. Ruzzel had just sent him a photo of the small, high-tech earphones they would be using. The earphones were sleek, compact, and small enough to be discreet, yet they promised clear audio for perfect communication. Ruzzel's message read: "Ready for tomorrow? These are our eyes and ears in the shadows. You're welcome."

Zayn zoomed in on the photo. The earphones looked exactly like what he needed—subtle, yet high-tech, perfect for their mission. Tomorrow, they would be watching Zeb's every move from the shadows, staying connected and one step ahead. He could almost hear Ruzzel's playful tone through the message, but Zayn knew that behind the playful chatter, they were all ready for the task ahead.

With a satisfied nod, Zayn pocketed his phone. Tomorrow, the operation would go down, and nothing would stand in their way.