Author's Note: Hello guys, So this chapter does have Russian dialect/characters in it. If there's any screw ups with it, please let me know so I can correct it.
He couldn't move, still there, mind boggling at the sight of what he caused. No, he didn't have a change of emotions about what his job was. But instead he realized how close he was to death. How close it was to kill or be killed.
What was his next plan of action? It seemed he had been pondering about this for hours, even though in reality it was only a few minutes that he had been there. Just like a hit-and-run, he knew there were two options and jail wasn't one of them. So yes, he did start to run, but not without leaving a memento that would only be known to Ivan. A scar that would decide his fate on whether to live or die.
Ivan on the other hand, eyes still glazed over but attentive at seeing the blurred figure run from the scene. In those exact moments, he saw what was to be his future. Being stabbed, left in the cold and bleeding out. That was what his enemy wanted and truth be told, Ivan wanted the same… for Alfred. He grunted lowly as he moved to lay on his back, his breathing slowing down even further. He knew where he was stabbed, he knew it was his lung.
As he was preparing for his cold demise, the rain unexpectedly stopped hitting his face. But before he could pry his eyes open, everything went dark. The empty and cold noise of the alley way was replaced with soft beeps and a continuous air noise.
Ivan laid, rather exhausted but feeling much better than he were before and when he felt something lukewarm press against his head. He peered, vision still blurred but was surrounded by figures he didn't know. Jumping up from the bed, a pain shot up his body causing him to fall back down. Panic in his eyes, but his composure was far from it. The next thing he heard was a voice trying reassure him of safety, as well as the wound inflicted.
The same man that was on the brink of death was now shrouded in pillows and monitors; hooked in from every which direction, indicating that he did indeed taken a hit, a pretty hard one at that. "Где*...ugh..." He stuttered, feel nauseated and once again blacked out.
-Alfred-
He rested against the wall of the casino, huffing softly as he waited. Hoping that this time when they actually met, the rendezvous would go according to plan. It had been a couple of weeks since the event that Alfred ran from. He had time to evaluate his situation, knowing that when he called the ambulance, it was probably the more moral approach than letting the Russian die in the alleyway.
As he thought about his actions, his colleague finally walked up rather late as usual. But nonetheless here, unlike the last time they said they would show up. Alfred grinned, offering him a briefcase of business items, not too important really. But it was always a kick when he got to see his colleague stressing that they had major paperwork.
"Lets just head inside alright, I'll explain the rest." Alfred said cooly, leading the way as the brunette followed after him.
When they got situated at a table deep into the building, where just ahead was live entertainment of dancing and singing. Which honestly they couldn't care less about, but it was a nice atmosphere to be in. Well, sorta nice. Alfred was bit hard to please.
"So explain this to me again. What was the point of it?" Yao, his small, brunette, long-haired friend with big brown eyes asked still rather confused. He always knew Alfred had this weird way of planning and dragging out events that weren't even necessary. "Well-"
His words faltered, Yao tilted his head, wondering what happened. Now noticing that Alfred's eyes widened in what would be the most surprised or shocked expression he's ever he turned his head in the same direction that Alfred was looking in, he really didn't have a clue to what he was so startled about. But Alfred knew all too well; and only told Yao that he would be back just briefly, but if he wasn't, to leave without him. Just before Yao could question why, Alfred was gone in an instant.
*"сука…" The dusty blonde growled, watching as the American ran off in a different direction. They both had made eye contact, that was for sure, and they both knew the result of this encounter. After laying in that hospital bed for about a week, even though he was advised to not leave and was even restrained a few times for trying to escape, he eventually snapped.
Trudging after him, pushing past people with no regard and when a person tried to fight. The Russian had no problem in punching his lights out, this caused the crowd to go wild around him in fear and anger. But as they stupidly fought or ran from each other, Ivan continued to walk ahead; down the corridor of where Alfred ran through, following until he was trapped in a corner like a mouse. Here came the cat, ready for his prey once again. Grabbing onto Alfred and this time ripping off his coat, where last time he hid his weapon of choice.
"You don't know… what you've got into…" He then tossed the American against the wall rather harshly, murder-ladened eyes staring him down before picking up the male once more and tossing him. Ivan received another yelp of pain from the other, already starting to look battered and bruised from the many tosses around the hall. This eventually led the American to bleed as the abuse began to intensify, crimson liquid dripping from his lips and forehead.
"W-Wait…" He coughed once again. "T-This isn't going to help you-" A groan escaped his lips, falling to the floor in pain, holding onto his sides because honestly that was where the majority of the injury had occurred. But the Russian let him go regardless, still a murderous intent burning in his eyes but with the self control the American didn't know anybody had.
"Y-you have the greatest anger y-yet so much pain…" There was an uneasy sigh, his insides feeling broken or fractured, maybe a rib, a hip, anything important really. There was no response from the Russian, so he continued while resting his eyes. Because if anything, he felt as though he was going to die regardless.
"And now I'm in the same position huh?.. Bleeding out with a look in my eyes of 'why?'... And I think I know the answer…" This wasn't a reasoning? This was just what he actually felt, maybe Ivan could relate… Because maybe he had the same remorse that Alfred did. Maybe… Cause he wasn't dead yet. Key word: Yet.
And he didn't expect it but Ivan sat across from him, letting out a sigh but keeping his eyes locked on Alfred. "And what would that be?" He responded, which Alfred was grateful for some unexplainable reason.
"Because we don't really want to hurt people...we're just fucked up…" And before Ivan could respond, Alfred passed out from exhaustion.
*Where - где
*Bitch - сука
