Standard disclaimer. Not mine. No harm. Just taking it out for a test drive but will return it to the lot with minimal damage.
'Damn Warren,' Briggs cursed under his breath after lifting his white t-shirt and looking in the mirror at the mottled purple-colored flesh that ran down the entire side of his torso. Briggs wasn't about to tell Mike, but the kid had been right on the mark, he had broken some of Odin's a.k.a. Briggs' ribs. Mike was also right on his second point, it did hurt, considerably. A wave of pain washed over the marked agent causing him to bend over and grimace as he rode it out in silence. He could not afford to have his roommates, the agents chasing Odin, made aware of his injuries; it would at the very least, lead to awkward questions; at the worse get him thrown in jail.
Briggs shuffled over to the nearby brown lounge chair and sat down before he fell down. Right now his only objective was to make it thru the next five minutes without a.) hurling, b.) screaming, or c.) passing out. When the pain finally died back down to a dull roar, he slowly moved over to his night stand and fumbled around for the bottle of Aleve. Not recalling or caring how many he had already taken since last night, he downed three more praying for a reduction in the throbbing that was his ribs.
Not quite sure what position was comfortable, (none if he was being honest), he lay back down on his bed his mind spinning as he tried to figure out his next move. Since Mike had proudly told him about hurting Odin, (yeh Mike…not), Briggs was now forced to come up with a plausible explanation, one good enough to fool a house full of highly trained agents, as to why he had a huge bruise on his right side that coincidentally matched the damage that Mike did to the drug lord Odin. It was either convince them or stay hidden in his room for the next few weeks while he recovered. There was no way he was going to be able to act natural with this type of injury.
Sighing, he ran a hand across this forehead; this was not going to be easy. His only real option was to fake an accident so he could 'acquire' his injury. The problem with that brilliant scheme was it was going to hurt like hell. Wasn't it some Scott guy who wrote about tangled webs of deceit?
Briggs came up with and discarded about a dozen ideas before finally finding one that seemed conceivable, doable and hopefully utterly convincing. He closed his eyes for a few minutes to gather his strength but instead promptly fell asleep. He didn't wake until a few hours later when Johnny pounded on his door before cautiously opening it.
"Dude," he bellowed sticking his head around the door cautiously, surprised that nothing came flying at him.
Paul woke at the sound of his name and without thinking went to sit up. His ribs woke up too and let him know their displeasure at his actions by shooting a wave of pain that rocked him from head to toe. Briggs couldn't let Johnny see his agony so he grabbed the nearby pillow and plopped it over his head. "Go away Johnny before I kill you," he mumbled from underneath.
"Run out of things to throw at me?" Johnny joked as he walked further into the room since the coast was clear.
"What part of go away didn't you get?"
Johnny held his hands up in a peace gesture. "Hey, I'm on a mission from God," he said slightly mis-quoting a Blues Brother movie. "Or at least from the girls who think they are Gods."
The throbbing dulled a bit and Briggs felt could control his face so he removed the pillow from his head and glared at Johnny.
"We're going to go to Quattro for lunch. Well not Jakes, but the rest of us. Join us Bro." Johnny started moving purposely towards the bed and Paul was afraid he might start jumping up and down on it to encourage Briggs to get up. If he did that, Paul swore he would shot him.
To forestall any ideas Johnny might have in that squirrel-trap mind of his, Briggs casually sat up on the side of the bed while biting the inside of his mouth to stop from screaming. "Can't. Gotta take the bike to Ventures to have it looked at. It's running rough.
"Couldn't you do that after lunch?" Johnny wheedled.
"Would if I could my man. But forecast says rain this afternoon. If I don't get her up there this morning, don't know when I will get another chance." Briggs was praying this conversation was drawing to a close because he couldn't fake this serene look on his face much longer.
Johnny nodded his head in understanding. "Your loss. Later," he waved over his should as he left, shutting the door behind him. Briggs waited a beat to make sure Johnny was really gone before collapsing; boy this was going to be a long, fun filled day.