CHAPTER EIGHT: YOU'RE A WANTED MAN
The building that they were ushered to was fairly old and contained four floors. Vines crawled and grew within the cracks of the walls, some vines even growing much thicker than the others that it served almost as a second wall. There were other parts of the building that had much bigger cracks and instead of being fixed with cement, they were only left to be covered with scraps and pieces of galvanized iron and other rubbish such as plastic bags.
Harper leads the group in but before they could even reach the inside, their tracks were stopped as Harper was attacked with a bearhug from a very close friend of his.
"Drake!" Dmitri happily acknowledges, pulling back from the hug and giving Harper a hard pat on the back, "good to see you my old friend," he says, a warm smile creeping up his lips. Similar to Mala, he had a Russian accent, except his was much thicker making most of his words slurred and hard to understand.
"Good to see you, Dmitri," Harper says, his tone devoid of any emotion, not matching what he's just said towards his friend. "Um, these are my companions. Meet Heather, Frank, Cami, and Rebecca," he gestures towards the group, going from left to right. Heather and Cami just smiles while Frank and Rebecca wave enthusiastically at him.
"This is Dmitri Isacovich, a very close friend of mine," Harper introduces.
"A friend of Drake is a friend of mine. Anyways, are you here to stay the night?" Dmitri asks, expectantly looking at the group who just blinked back nervously at him, sharing glances with each other.
"Yes," Harper answers for them, "do you have at least six rooms for all of us?"
Harper hoped that they did because God forbid he shares a room with any of them.
Dmitri headed over to the reception, looking down before smiling and pulling up six keys, three on both his left and right hand, "Of course, comrade. Here are the keys! You are lucky we have no guests for tonight."
Harper chuckles at him, taking his key before facing the group, "We'll be at Reagans by tomorrow. Rest up since chances are we might start running back."
And with that, he leaves them alone. He pads towards the door just across them and slams the door shut, clearly sending a message that he doesn't want to be disturbed. They all blinked before looking at the Russian.
Dmitri lets out an awkward cough before distributing the keys to them one by one. Once he got to Cami, Cami asks a question, "is he always like this? Cold and...and untrusting," she gestures towards Harper's room.
Dmitri sighs, heading to the table before pouring vodka in a shot glass and with a frown, answers, "he was never like that. It is first time I see him like, er, this," he says, vaguely gesturing to the direction Harper's just gone through with his hand that was occupied with a shot glass, "but this is understandable. He has dark past. If you want to know then you go ask answers from him," he continues, but his tone much gloomier this time, as if he's silently saying that the said option isn't really what he'd suggest, "it is...not really my obligation to tell."
"Your rooms are at third floor. They are all together unless you want four wants to share room with each other?" Dmitri informs them before they could go to the staircase.
"Yes, me and Alek will share. Rebecca will go with Cami and, uh, Frank, you good with being on your own?"
"Yup, I'm good. Sleeping alone in a settlement in the middle of the wasteland? Never been better!" Frank jokes, nervously chuckling before heading upstairs, not bother to bid the others a goodnight.
Everyone just stared at him quizzically, watching him fade off into the distance.
What was his problem? Alek thought.
"Okay, Heather. You can keep room key while the two of you," he points towards Alek and Cami, "will have to give back the keys."
After Alek and Cami handed their keys to Dmitri, they bid him a goodnight and headed for their room.
Their room was fairly big, with a queen size bed in the middle of the room. On the side of it, sad two lamp shades that were already on, giving the room a dim light. Near the doorway was a mirror and in front of it was a cabinet that had towels on top of it. Knick knacks and several other decorations were hung all over the room to give it some sort life, a bit of a familiar vibe to it as Alek feels as of the moment.
Across their bed was a door to the bathroom, to which Heather quickly ran into claiming she's been holding it for hours now. Alek just chuckles and lunges herself on the bed, feeling the soft duvet on the tip of her fingertips. She sighs, feeling at peace only to jump up in the surprise when the door bursted open and in came in a very excited Rebecca and Cami. They bounced up and down the bed — thankfully without their shoes on — making Alek groan.
"Have you guys ever heard of knocking?" Alek suggests, putting a clenched fist up to imitate knocking on a door in order to emphasize her suggestion. Her serious face then contorts into one of joy as she giggles along with them.
"Well, have you ever heard of locking?" Rebecca retorts, raising her hand and pretending to lock and invisible door knob in the air. They all busted out laughing before laying on the bed, settling in a comfortable position.
"What are you guys doing here?" Heather asks, emerging out of the bathroom as she fixes her hair, "we need to rest up. Who knows what's in that hospital? And the last thing I want is to be stuck in an abandoned one," she positions herself in between Cami and Alek, staring up at the two girls who perched their chins on their palms.
"Relax, sister. It's just ten in the evening. We can have an hour of girl-time then after that we can pass out. Besides, someone here has a thing for our merc," Cami teasingly says, suggestively looking at Alek who just rolled her eyes and groaned.
"Oh yeah," Heather concedes, making Alek groan even more realizing that she'll be ganged up over this, "Alek couldn't stop staring at him. I mean, I wouldn't blame you, though. He is kind of hot."
A blush slowly crept onto Alek's cheek, giving it a light tint of red making her stare down in embarrassment at her own body betraying her.
"Oh, wow! Now she's blushing. I knew you weren't a lesbian," Rebecca jokes and in return receives a punch on the side from Alek.
"Owww," Rebecca groans, clutching her side, "look, you're in denial, Alek. The sooner you accept, the better," she teases further.
"I don't have a thing for that sarcastic bastard!" Alek exclaims, but it didn't come out as convincing as she wanted it to be and silently cursed herself for that.
The girls just quietly stared at her, a smirk plastered on their faces irking Alek completely.
"Okay! Fine! Well, he is attractive and I do find him handsome myself," Alek admits, feeling defeated as they all shared smiles to each other.
"Case closed," Rebecca says in an authoritative tone, pretending to close a book by making her palms touch each other.
"But it's not like he'll have a thing for me," Alek says in a bit of a sad tone that even she can't believe to be mustering up. She sounded hopeless, and, hated to admit it, but felt hopeless as well too.
"Who knows? Maybe he already has a girlfriend who does the same thing as he does," she adds on, wishing that it'd cover up the fact that she's a bit crestfallen, both at the idea of him lacking interest in her and him already having a partner.
"Alek," Heather coos, "I saw the way he stared at you. He just...kept staring at your eyes, finding himself in some sort of...of trance. I even helped him snap out of it and you should've seen the color of his ears! They were bright red and-"
"Gee guys, thanks for the help but really you don't ha-"
"Face it, Alek! He has a thing for you," Heather cuts her off, waving her hands up frantically in the air. Alek groaned and shoved her face face flat onto the bed, making sure to cover up the blush that crept up her cheeks that would surely be the next butt of the jokes her friends probably already have in mind.
Their loud laughter immediately went to a halt when they heard gunshots echo through the hallway. They all rushed out and headed into their rooms, taking whatever weapon they needed before heading back out to the source of the sound. Alek got her AR-15, cocking the rifle before kicking open the door, Heather following suit with a tomahawk in hand. They came across Frank who just got out of his room, his hair flying in different directions as he hastily heald his handgun up in a defensive manner.
Two dead bodies were the first thing that mingled to their line of sight. One sat upright on the wall, his eyes wide as blood from the wound on his forehead dribbled onto his nose. The wound was still fresh, seemingly to be caused by a gunshot. A few steps from him was a man who lazily slumped on the couch, his blood splattered all over both on the painting and on the couch.
Soft whimpering sounds could be heard from the man that Harper held firmly to the counter. Just a few inches above his skull situated a knife, ready to plunge into him if he ever ticks Harper off.
"For the last fucking time! Who the fuck sent you?" Harper angrily asks, applying more pressure onto the man's skull making him tremble underneath his grasp.
"Okay! Okay! Okay!" the man panics, finally giving in, "he was a-...he was a- he was a guy, alright? A really big guy. He's bald as well. He's with another guy that kinda looks like him but speaks in a much more, er...how do you say.."
"In a much more what?" Harper grits out, staring at the man hardly.
"Eloquent! Eloquent!" he screeches, "in a much more eloquent way. That's all I know!"
"Now, why did they send you?" Harper asks, pressing pressure onto his neck making him yelp out in pain.
"He said he wanted you dead because you're a liability," he hurriedly says, "you need to be removed from their operations that's all I know! Now please let me go-" but before he could even react, Harper has already plunged the knife into his skull, slowly dragging it down to his neck, watching blood ooze out and coat the metal.
Harper lets go of the body, watching it fall limp onto the floor. He sighs before slumping his shoulders and leaning onto the desk.
He shifts his gaze towards the doorway, seeing Dmitri with Throk along with four other guards trailing behind them with M4's in hand approaching him.
"Drake, this better be good," Throk carefully says, eyeing the dead bodies around the room. "You said you were clean."
"Yeah," he drags on, "about that..no. Looks like that Grimborns want me dead. Again."
He absentmindedly looked onto his sleeve, seeing a red spot. Touching it, he then realized that it wasn't a design but rather blood from a bleeding wound. He flinches when he feels the pain shoot through him. Throk sees this reaction and immediately helps in holding him upright.
"We'll see if the doctor is available. In the meantime, the four of you close up this lobby. I don't want anyone, especially the queen, panicking. Now, get moving," Throk orders, watching his men scramble to fix the tarnished area up.
The gang were in a state of shock, realizing the fact that Harper did this by himself. He just kills the men in cold blood right in front of them. Dmitri sees this and ushers them to go to sleep before approaching Harper.
As the group went back to their respective rooms, they all had the same question in mind.
Who the hell wanted Drake dead?
HARPER'S P.O.V
A FEW MINUTES BEFORE
"We'll be at Reagans tomorrow. Rest up since chances are we might start running back," I say, waiting for any reactions before slamming the door shut. My feet led me to my bed, but something stopped me in my tracks.
Cami's question.
"Is he always like this? Cold and untrusting?"
I tensed up at the question, leaning closer to the door to get a better answer from whoevers that questioned was directed to.
From the looks of it, it was towards Dmitri.
I hear a sigh fall from Dmitri's lips and right after it came answer. I smiled, thankful that he respected my privacy.
Finally, I heard footsteps descending down the hall until they faded away and all that's left were soft vibrations. Truth be told, I wasn't going to sleep. I shuffled in my gear, shifting it a little bit till I was comfortable before peeking through my peep-hole, checking if there was anyone else left outside.
It was empty out there, the hall only lit by the light that seeped in through the cracks of the already old walls alongside with a couple of broken light bulbs. I gave it five more seconds before opening my door and slowly tiptoeing my way out.
I only wanted to do a couple of things tonight. One is to fulfill a favor Mala's asked and in return, receive a vehicle for tomorrow's trip and two is to catch up with Dmitri about any rumors or significant reports from the faction I used to apart of. Either of which can come first but I did hope that I could finish the first one earlier.
Air immediately left my lungs when I felt someone hurl me over into a dimly lit room.
Dmitri breathed heavily, clutching my shoulders tighter and tighter as he exhaled while he looked me up and down, scrutinizing me as if I was someone he's never met before.
Looks like the latter in my to-do list will come first tonight.
"The fuck are you doing here?" he sneers, taking me by surprise. My eyebrows scrunched in confusion as I tilted my head, wondering what he's yapping about.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, only be shushed and received an aggressive shhhh for an answer.
His tongue dragged out and licked his bottom lip, "people want you dead, Drake. The Hunters, The Outcast, The Berzerkers and the other factions you've caused problems with. They all want you dead."
I spaced out, staring at the bed that just sat behind him. I opened my mouth, wanting to say something only for Dmitri to beat me to it.
"Drake, people all the way from Manhattan want you dead. They call themselves the dragons, or something," he mutters the last part, waving his hand vaguely as his voice faltered.
My eyes grew wide upon hearing this. They're after me. Shit. I thought Thuggory convinced them that I was dead. Guess like words spread around like wildfire.
Maybe they had second thoughts when the news got to them?
"Also I heard some rumors that had something to do with the flamethrowers. They're moving to California from New York," he adds, "you were at New York, my friend. Why the hell were they as well?"
"They're The Cleaners, sanitation inspectors or experts trying to wipe out the disease. They do this by burning plant life down, hence why New York is covered in ashes. They're one of the reasons why Manhattan was thought to be abandoned but there are still survivors there."
He nodded, processing the information before opening his mouth to speak. But, this time, I beat him to it.
"Are you sure The Dragons want me gone?"
Dmitri nods eagerly, "yes, I am certain, friend. But, I have to know why you've gone rogue?"
A knock on the reception table cuts me off. Dmitri excuses himself, slinking his way out. I peeked through crack, checking to see who's outside.
Three men fell in my line of vision, all having the same gun, a Kriss Vector, and all wearing the same gear that seemed to have been purchased from the black market. They were all positioned at different places in the lobby. One at the staircase, the other at the doorway, and the last at the reception, speaking to Dmitri.
"How may I help you?" Dmitri politely inquires, tapping the table as he awaited for a response.
"Yes, did someone go in here? He's," he pauses and hesitates, eyeing Dmitri up and down with a finger to his lips, in thought, "an inch taller than you. He had auburn hair and green eyes. Also, he's scrawny," I hear the man ask, making Dmitri's eyes widen to the size of golfballs.
Fuck, no.
The atmosphere shifted, and suddenly Dmitri didn't look so confident anymore. His posture slouched, his fingers fumbled lazily with each other, his shoulders tense and his voice turning an octave higher as he lets out his response, "uh, er…..no. No. No, no, no. No person that fits that description came in here today."
Come on, man. Hold your fucking stance.
The man at the reception turned around slowly, locking gazes with the other man at the door. After a beat, the sound of something being locked travelled through the room. This was then followed by a gun being pulled out and aimed specifically at Dmitri.
"Do you think I'm stupid, Ivan? Where is he? The sooner you answer the sooner we'll leave. No trouble whatsoever," the man at the reception table demanded, slapping his hand on the cold marble countertop which elicited a flinch from Dmitri.
"You are already causing enough trouble in my establishment!" Dmitri retorts, staring angrily at the guy. Quickly, he grasped the man's hands and aimed the gun towards his companion nearby the staircase. He fell with a thud, his eyes still wide open as he rolled down the last few steps.
I slammed the door open and shot the other guy at the doorway, his blood splattering over the paintings hung on the walls near him. He clutched his wound and fell onto the couch, painting it with his blood as well.
I ran back to Dmitri and caught him pinning down the guy at his desk. I took Dmitri's placed and ordered him to call for guards. As he ran out, I eyed the guy up and down, feeling him struggle under my hold. For each squirmed he'd do I made sure to add even much more pressure.
"You fucked Night Fury. F-U-C-K. Once Viktor gets you, you'll be back with Drago. I heard what you did back in Manhattan. You think that crazed lunatic won't stop finding you?" the hired gun mocks, staring at me warily.
"You had to ask," I mocked back, pulling my knife out and hovering it above his skull, "Who sent you?" I calmly ask, only to receive an attempt to spat on.
"You ain't going to get through me, boy," he sourly says, which lead me to kick his shin and jab the knife in his leg. He lets out a hoarse scream at the act, gritting his teeth in pain as he squirms even more than before. Slowly, I pulled the knife out and replaced it with my finger, feeling the new wound that situated on his shin.
"Are you gonna talk now?" I ask again, watching and waiting for his reaction. Still, nothing. I growled and pushed all four of my fingers inside this time, only leaving my thumb out to gently caress the untouched skin of his leg. I then wrapped my thumb around his shin, curving the four fingers inside along as well, and squeezed what I could making howl in pain, his yells of despair echoing off the walls.
For every second of silence, I squeezed harder and felt blood ooze out.
"Let's try this again. Who the fuck sent you?" I growled, squeezing harder, harder than the last few moments ago that I felt the flesh slowly slide off his body.
"Okay! Okay! Okay!" he gives in, "it was a guy. Really big, also bald. He has t-t-this-this weird accent and-and he also had another guy with him! One who sounded smart, sounded really smart, and wise. Alright! That's all I know!" he screams hurriedly, trying to wriggle himself out of my grasp.
Well, I guess that's all I can get.
Carelessly, I buried my knife in the middle of his head, feeling his body slowly go limp as I twisted the knife and made it to ballet, if that was possible. I left my knife there, along with his body before slumping on the reception table in exhaustion.
A few minutes after, I'm met with the gang, Throk with several guards, Dmitri and five pair of concerned eyes, six even if I'm not mistaken but it was hard to tell when it came to Throk.
"Drake, this better be good. You said you're clean," Throk says, eyeing me warily before pulling me up and slinging his arms around me to help me walk.
My side ached with pain. I moved my hands toward the source of the pain only to gasp when my eyes are met with blood.
"How the fuck did I get shot?" I asked, a bit shocked. I surprisingly didn't feel it much, up until now. Despite the situation, I chuckled.
"We'll see if the doctor is available. The three of you close up this lobby. I don't need a mass panic to break through, especially to the queen. Now, get moving!" Throk orders as I watched his men scramble. They fell out of my sight as he lead me out the building and into a room that gave me the medical attention I needed.
