Wooo! new story!! Sorry it took so long! I hope you enjoy, please R&R!!
"Don't move," Yassen hissed, twisting viciously. The man tried to pull away, but Yassen wrenched him back and he gasped in pain. "I said, don't move." He snarled, pushing his captive against the wall. The man twisted before falling still, his breath coming in short bursts as he glared at Yassen out of the corner of his eye.
"What do you want?" he spat angrily.
"Information," Yassen said simply. He felt the man stiffen and frowned slightly.
"What sort of information?" he rasped.
"I need the location of Daniel Skinner," Yassen replied, his voice soft and deadly.
"I already said that I don't know where he is," the man exclaimed, then froze. Yassen did the same, suddenly alert and tense.
"Who did you say that to?" he asked slowly, slipping his free hand down to the gun at his hip.
"No one!" his terrified yelp was as good as a confession. Yassen pulled him away from the wall slightly, and then slammed him into it. His head jerked forwards, slamming his face into the solid brick. Blood flowed freely from his nose as Yassen pulled him back.
"Shall we try again?" He asked. "Who did you tell that you didn't know where he was?" he reinforced his words with a quick pull on the arm that he had twisted behind his back.
"I don't know his name," the man replied thickly, spitting blood from his mouth. "He asked me about an hour ago. But he didn't break my bloody nose." Yassen shrugged.
"Tell me where he is. Skinner, I mean, not the other man who asked, I can find him myself."
"I said I don't know."
"Yes, and we both know that you're lying. I don't particularly want to have to break anything else of yours, but I will if I need to." The man was silent for a few seconds before sighing and giving Yassen a few brief directions, culminating in a room number.
"Thank you," Yassen said, releasing his arm and stepping back. "I hope for your sake that you told me the truth." The man nodded, massaging his wrist gently and flexing his fingers in a slightly experimental way. Yassen left him to it, turning away and walking quickly around the corner and out onto the main road.
He kept his hand on the butt of his gun; he was more disturbed than he had let on about the fact that someone else was asking about Skinner. But from what the man had said, the other questioner hadn't had any success, but it wouldn't pay to assume that he was alone in the pursuit of his target.
He walked back to the flat that SCORPIA owned slowly, glancing from side to side all the way, certain that he was being watched. He slipped in through the door, locking it securely behind him, and then raced to the window, peering around the frame, he saw a fit looking man with dark, watchful eyes standing on the far side of the street. He looked more like a soldier than a spy.
After a few moments, he turned and walked away, contriving to look casual, but there was a natural wariness about him that overruled any attempt to appear relaxed.
Yassen watched him out of sight before turning away from the window again. He knew that he had seen the man before, the one who had been following him, but the question was, where? He sighed and sat down at the table, pulling a piece of paper and a pen towards him and writing out all that he could remember of the directions he had been given. There was a microphone pinned to the inside of the jacket he was wearing but he refused to use it to find out what was said. It took a while, but he eventually had a complete set of directions laid out on the paper.
Glancing out of the window, he saw that the sun was already starting to set, turning from blinding white to a gentler orangey-red. He looked again at the sheet of paper in his hand. It would only take him about twenty minutes to walk there; it was in the dodgy end of the town and there was no way he was going to leave his brand new Aston Martin unattended there for more than a microsecond.
Deciding that it would be best to go in now, while he had the element of surprise, he grabbed a dark coat from the hook behind the front door and ducked out into the dusk.
He kept to the narrow alleyways that ran parallel to the high street, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible. He ducked out into the main road briefly as a gang of youths appeared from around the corner of a building, not because he was scared, but because bodies would arouse suspicion.
He walked fast, but not quick enough to attract attention. In a little under twenty minutes, he stopped outside an old, broken down hotel and looked around. No one was in sight and, taking care not to make any noise, he climbed quickly up the metal fire escape and in through the door that led in to the first floor.
He made his way slowly along the corridor, his footsteps muffled slightly by the thin carpet stretched over the floorboards. Keeping his eyes fixed on the room numbers stuck haphazardly to the doors, he turned a corner and stopped dead.
The man who had followed him earlier was standing outside the door he wanted, gun drawn and one hand resting on the door handle. He had one ear pressed against the flimsy chipboard door and his eyes were closed tightly, his face screwed up in concentration. Yassen pulled his gun from the holster silently and took a few steps forward, bringing it up to shoulder height.
"Shhh," The man at the door hissed, opening an eye and glaring at Yassen, who had stopped again, arm frozen in shock. "He's not in there." the man said a few seconds later, stepping back from the door.
"Who…?" Yassen couldn't get the words out, nothing like this had happened before.
"Who am I?" Yassen nodded slowly. "You don't need my real name, call me Wolf."