Tom sat silently, sullenly swirling the last dregs of his whisky around in the glass he held, and glared across the bar to its other patrons.
It was at least a year after the incident in Harmony. It had been a close call, and he had almost been caught after that bitch had shot him causing that god damn explosion. He knew he should be dead…
Harry knew he should be dead—which was why the dark voice had been happily silent for most of the last year. Tom had had a time trying to heal and trying to stay on the run in case anyone figured out his deception. It was depressingly easy to get away, but Harry and Tom both knew they had to act fast and run even faster.
After the explosion, half buried in singed and smoking rubble, Tom had regained consciousness to see a rescuer looming over him in the dark cave.
"Don't worry, man! We got you!" The voice was muffled, just barely audible from behind the gas mask, under a whine that Tom could not place or shake off. Must have been the explosion. The rescuer's mask was staring blankly at him, and he tried desperately to get up, moving the wreckage as he did, groaning in pain as it slid off his bruised and battered body.
"Stay still man, help's coming! We got you—" The rescuer continued to mumble reassurances. All the while Tom, unconsciously, was groping in the dark for something—then Tom's hand suddenly found something frighteningly familiar, and he found himself gripping the handle tight, Harry whispering in his sub conscious, 'Do it or they'll fry you when they find out you're alive!' It took no thought at all, only ripple of muscle, and he had swung the pick axe from where it had lain, effectively silencing the mumbling man with a sharp point directly into his gas mask's eye.
He had dropped then, bleeding out quickly from the head wound, and Tom (Harry whispering darkly in his ears) worked fast to get the mask and outfit off before the blood ruined too much of it and made completely useless for his plans…their plans.
The man was wearing a simple white shirt and blue jeans underneath the one piece suit, which made it extremely easy to quickly throw his over shirt and hoodie on the dead man, shimmy into the rescue suit (it's red color masking both his and the other man's blood), and pick up a large rock. It only took a second. After a few good swings down and some satisfying crunches, he had caved the man's face in till it was unrecognizable. He then did the same to a few choice places down the body, Harry reminding him to go for the place he had been shot in case they looked too close, and then throwing the rubble back onto of the now mutilated corpse.
For all pretense and purposes, he'd at least get a few days head start if they thought he was crushed beneath the resulting cave in.
Until Axel called for extensive forensic help ('and you know that bastard will' Harry growled darkly in his mind), or the family of the dead man came looking for their suddenly missing father/brother/husband.
He had made his way from the scene as inconspicuously as he could, ripping his mask off once he was well away from the others and allowing himself to finally feel the pain that coursed through him. His adrenaline rush would help, but soon he'd be in too much pain to walk.
He quickly commandeered a car that was left unlocked and sped off to the closest town, Palmer Springs, in the hopes of weaseling his way into their hospital.
Things had been in his favor, as they took him straight away, and seemed trusting enough that they asked very few questions as to whom he was or how he had gotten hurt. He had gasped out "Accident…at the quarry…" and that had been good enough for them.
Once he had been stitched up and treated for his cracked ribs and sprained arm, he had taken off, slipping out as quickly as he had arrived—before the questions started in earnest.
He did not want to stay in one place for too long…especially so close to Harmony. He hotwired another car in the far parking lot, and sped off into the night without a backwards glance, Harry laughing all the while.
v.v.v.v.v
That's how he ended up here—some dead end small town, in a bar that was barely good enough to be called a dive, chugging down one drink after another as he surveyed the crowd that was filtering in through the night.
There wasn't too much to do here, and he had been laying low in town for the last month. While he didn't know everyone, he knew a lot of the town just by watching them.
So when a young couple came through the door, laughing, arms around each other's waists, and stumbling slightly, Tom looked up curiously and tried to place names to faces. But they had never been in this bar, and therefore had never crossed paths with him before.
Harry stirred causing Tom's stomach to churn sickly.
The man didn't look as young as the girl did, but he had a bright and charming smile, and blue eyes that had the tipsy brunette on his arm completely smitten.
Harry stirred again, whispering in his mind, 'Look at those two,' there was a scoff and Tom was sure it had been himself that had made that noise. He downed the rest of his whiskey and motioned for the bar tender to get him another. 'Doesn't it make you want to puke?'
Tom's eyes stayed on the couple. They had sat at a tall table that was close to where he was perched, but the music was just loud enough to drown out their muffled conversation. Still, he could read their body language like they were screaming their intentions.
The man was leaning close to the young woman (who was close enough to Tom that he could she that she looked no more than 18 years old), his smile never faltering and his hands touching hers. Whatever he was saying was causing her to blush brightly and giggle.
'You know what you should do, right? What we should do.' Harry prodded, tugging at that darkness that Tom had so easily fallen into way back in Harmony. 'You should really do something about their disgusting displays.' Tom sneered into his glass before downing it in one gulp.
"Not here." Was all he said out loud. He paid his tab, wished Willy the bartender goodnight, and with nary a passing glance at the giggling girl and the man with the charming smile, he slipped out of the bar and into the empty night that awaited him.
He had to get ready.