Rook found himself in a dark, empty room. The walls, flooring and ceiling were all made of the same shiny metal and there were no windows. The only light source was a fading lightbulb that swung back and forth causing the shadows to dance around the room maniacally. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Rook was able to make out two figures in front of him. The very sight of the first figure sent a sharp chill down the agent's spine. Even though he could not see the man's eyes, Rook knew that they were cold, cruel and calculating without a glimpse of empathy. The man turned towards the second figure, that sat slouched at the far end of the room. This figure was not as easily distinguishable. Mainly due to the bag that was covering their face. However, Rook could see that the person was tightly strapped to a wooden chair and they were struggling in vain to break free. He could hear their deep breaths and uncontrollable sobs as they begged for mercy. Such as thing wouldn't be found in Targent. Silently, the man in front of him raised his arm and pointed at the squirming figure. Like a puppet being controlled by its master, Rook did the same. Only he was holding a gun in his hand. His finger was on the trigger. His boss gave the signal; Rook was trained to follow orders. He pointed it at the figure, steadied his aim and-
Rook jolted awake with a gasp. Panicked, he turned to the figure on the bed next to his. When the figure continued snoring softly, Rook breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting up, he wearily raised his hand to wipe the sweat off his brow. For a moment, the slender man sat there, lost in his thoughts. Eventually, he stepped off the bed and sluggishly made his way to the bathroom.
Their room, if you could call it that, was hardly the pinnacle of luxury. The two threadbare beds had been propped up with some dusty old books to prevent collapse. The problem of the leaking sink had been fixed thanks to the help of a slowly overflowing bucket. There was even a hole in the floorboards that was home to a family of rodents. Bishop had the brilliant idea of training said rats to fix the sink, but Rook debated the issue with much passion. To an outside eye, these men were surely mad, desperate or both to be living in such squalid conditions. But to Rook and Bishop, well, they were simply glad to be in a place with lower chances of being shot at.
Rook eventually emerged from the bathroom, clothed, clean and not at all ready for the day. Taking one last glance at his slumbering partner, he placed a hastily scribbled note on his pillow and crept out the door, closing it behind him.
Bishop awoke some time later, rubbing his eyes and cursing at the sunlight flowing through the window. After a considerable yawn, the small man turned to the other bed.
"Hey, Rook. You asleep?"
No answer. Not surprising as Rook wasn't there but Bishop was blissfully unaware of this fact.
"Hey, Rook! Yoo hoo! You awake?"
If Rook had been present in the room, he would have probably said something along the lines of
"I'm awake now you idiot." Or perhaps, "For God's sake Bishop, shut the hell up!"
When Bishop received neither of these responses, he rightfully concluded that Rook was no longer there. It was then he noticed the note his partner had left. The note read:
Bishop,
Went to chek on Mac. Be bak sum time later
Rook
Ps. fix the bloody sink alredy
Bishop raised his eyebrows at his partner's grammatical errors. People who didn't know the two well often assumed that Rook was the smartest of the pair. This was true in most cases except with spelling. It bothered Bishop to constantly correct Rook's spelling and it bothered Rook to have his spelling constantly corrected. Bishop had offered to help him, but the two found out very quickly that Bishop was not the best teacher, nor Rook the best student. Picking up a pen, Bishop began to fix Rook's mistakes. When he had finished, he read over the letter again. So Rook had gone to check on Mackintosh? He thought back to the day the pair had rescued him and taken him to the hospital. That was also the same day the two had escaped Targent, bravely nicking an airship and flying to freedom from right under their bosses nose. That had been a good day. But then, every day with Rook was a good day.
Speaking of the devil, Bishop was jolted back into reality by the welcoming sound of the door swinging open and the sight of his lankly partner stepping through.
"Rook!" He called enthusiastically, "I was just thinking about you."
"Good things I should hope." Rook replied wearily making his way towards his partner.
"Hey Rook, you're looking really tired." Bishop noted, concerned. "Did you have another one of those nightmares you think I don't know about?"
"What?"
"How's old Mackintosh doing?" Bishop asked hurriedly. "On the mend?"
Rook sat down next to the smaller man, his hands folded.
"The doctor says he's fine, considering-" Rook trailed off.
Bishop placed a comforting hand on Rook's shoulder, only to have it shaken off. Rook stood up.
"I suppose we should try to contact his family. They must be worried about him."
Bishop nodded and stood up.
"Alright." He grinned, determination sparkling in his eyes. "How do we contact his family?"
"I don't know."
"You have their names?"
"No."
"Addresses?"
"No."
"Anything that is useful to us at all!?"
"No."
"Well, that's really useful, Rook!"
"Oh I'm sorry! What do you want me to have done? Ask him nicely, 'I'm ever so sorry Mr Mackintosh; I know you were just shot by one of colleagues but I was hoping you could give me all of your family details before you pass out. Cheers!'
The two men turned away from each other, irritated. This wasn't the first time they had butted heads, and it wouldn't be the last. Once the pair had a chance to cool down, they'd be as thick as thieves again. After a few moments of silence, Rook's eyes scanned towards the bathroom.
"I see the sink is still broken." He muttered softly.
"I tried to fix it." Bishop lied.
Rook gave a small sigh to himself and turned away. He expressed his opinion on the sink using very colourful language. Bishop paused, deep in thought. After a few moments, his face broke into a grin.
"I've got it!"
"The sink?"
"No! The bigger picture!"
"I'm listening."
"My mum! She only lives a few miles away! I'm sure she'll let us crash at her place for a couple of days!"
Before Rook had a chance to object, Bishop continued.
"You'd still be able to see Old Mack if you take the bus to the hospital."
Rook rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Only for a few days?"
"As soon as we find somewhere of our own."
"As long as your mother has no objections-"
"Let's go then!" Bishop cheered, his arms waving above his head.
"Bishop, wait!"
As to be expected, Bishop had absolutely no intention of waiting and was gone out the door in a flash. Rook sighed to himself as he began packing their clothes. If Bishop's mother was anything like her son then this was going to be a difficult few days.