Chapter 8: Disconnection
Alucard
It was hot, way too hot for his taste. The sun was blazing a fiery gold ahead of him while the sickly sweet spring air rushed in and out of his car through the open windows. Sweat coated his forehead in a slick layer of moisture. His mood was foul, and his patience had run dry while arguing with a cashier at the grocery store for just less than ten minutes over the price of the baguette he'd picked up.
Though it was fairly noisy outside with the sounds of construction workers, impatient drivers, and idiotic pedestrians, he still noticed when his small mobile phone, silver and technologically out of date, began to vibrate. It lay in the centre of the leather seat beside him, buzzing angrily as it demanded his immediate attention.
He knew it was against the law to drive and use a mobile, but he assumed whoever was calling him was doing so due to an emergency. After all, only two people had his mobile number.
His fingers were curled tightly around the steering wheel of his car, the black material coating the apparatus growing ever hotter beneath his dampened palms. He glanced over at the phone as it buzzed louder than ever. His brows dropped, his eyelids lowering in annoyance as he reached over and flipped the phone open. He pressed the speaker button as he placed the device on his lap.
"Alucard?" said the voice on the other end of the line.
His eyebrows rose as he realized who the caller was.
"Speaking," he said, his tone lackluster and full of supressed discontent.
"Alucard, where the hell are you?" demanded his boss.
"Driving," he said, his voice straining as he leaned a little ways out of his window to get a better view of the congested road in front of him. He scowled at the jam-packed street, and watched in mild shock as the traffic almost instantly began to clear out.
"You'd better be driving to the office," she said stonily.
"I'm not coming in today," he stated flatly.
The line went silent, becoming momentarily occupied by a scratchy, static-like sound. "You offered her a position, didn't you?" she asked.
Alucard hadn't mentioned a thing about the police girl to his boss, not since that day back at the police station. He'd only said that he'd run into her, nothing else. He could most definitely lie and say that he hadn't offered her anything at all, but Integra would see through him faster than he could think of a satisfactory come back.
Instead of coming up with an appropriate response, he simply remained silent as he pulled into his driveway. He turned the car key, shutting off the vehicle. He sat still, staring down at the phone, listening as Integra huffed breath after breath into her end of the receiver.
The wind had died down which did nothing to lessen the overbearing feeling of suffocation in his cramped, little car. The birds had gone silent, and the sounds of the road repairs were muted and faraway. It was like he'd been submerged in a lake of boiling water, unable to fully comprehend anything he came across.
"Is this what you want?" she asked, breaking his stupor.
Taken aback, he said nothing.
"All right, fine," said Integra, "I'll employ her, but her salary comes out of yours, and she is your problem. Her screw ups are your screw ups, and if she dies, it's all on you."
He looked away from the device, staring out of the window. The sun glinted into his eyes, causing him to shut them. He sat there, basking in warmth he didn't want, having yet another conversation he didn't care for. His hand slid over to the door, pressing a button to bring the window back up.
"Alucard," she said, her voice filled with concern.
"What?" he snapped, whipping his head around to glare at the phone, as if Integra were in the seat beside him instead of the small device.
"Be careful," she said quietly, and with that, she hung up.
What kind of bullshit was that? he grumbled as he tugged open the car door. He stood up tiredly, placing his hand on his lower back as he stretched out his spine. He righted himself, and reached back into his car, turning off his phone as he dropped it into a cup holder.
He shut the door and stepped around the car to the trunk. He yanked it open, the metal scalding his weathered hands. He pulled out the lone grocery bag and slammed the trunk back down, the sound echoing through the dead, dry air.
He felt very empty, and not in regards to the late meal. He felt hollow, unsure of himself or how to proceed. He wasn't sure about anything anymore, and though he wouldn't allow himself to acknowledge it, he was terrified of what this meant for him.
He exhaled loudly as he climbed up the steps to his small, rundown home, glancing at the dying potted plants along the walkway as he searched his pockets for his keys. As his fingers came across the jagged tip of his house key, he froze, as still as an ancient pillar of stone. He looked back over at the plants, carefully taking note of their condition.
Out of the five pots, four were broken, and he didn't remember them being that way when he'd left home that morning. The cracks were neat and clean, signifying a deliberate attack.
A frigid hand seemed to trail a finger down Alucard's spine, forcing all of the small hairs on his extremities to stand erect. He set his jaw as he fit the key into the lock, his brows drawing together in an attempt to fight off the emotions that he felt clouding his judgement.
As he placed a hand on the doorknob, he braced himself, knowing full well that something had gone horrifically wrong on the other side of the door.
I was shaking like a leaf caught in a torrential gale. No matter how tense I tried to make my muscles, every ounce of my flesh continued to quiver at a feverish pace. I felt weak, like a bird trying to take flight with a broken wing.
Sunlight from the peaceful, oblivious world in front of me glinted through the window into my eyes. I blinked, more to keep back any unnecessary tears than to clear my sight.
I was terrified, and though I was ashamed to admit it, I was more afraid in that moment than when I saw that man put a knife to my father's throat.
"Where's the gun?" growled the man in white.
I started at the sudden sound of his voice. It was a harsh and grainy sound, the exact opposite of Alucard's voice. It felt as if nails were being raked across my skin, making everything I had forgotten about my father's death crawl and claw at my mind, forcing panic threaten to consume me.
A faint, "What?" slipped from my lips in response to his demand. My heart battered mercilessly against my ribcage. I was horrified to think what my small outburst might bring the intruder to do. I didn't want to anger him any further, not to mention that I didn't know what he was referring to. I wondered if he meant Alucard's gun, but why would he want it? The gun he held was identical to Alucard's anyway.
"That bastard's gun" said the man, his voice as coarse as gravel, "I need it."
I had to force myself stop coming up with questions and instead decide upon a quick answer.
"I don't know where it is," I breathed, my voice barely louder than my own pulse. I hoped if I played ignorant, he'd be willing to force more questions on me. I knew how to turn a conversation on a person from the time I spent interrogating criminals. I knew how to get him to give me more information, but I first needed him to comply.
"It's rude to lie to people, you know," the man muttered.
I heard footsteps, and my heart began to race.
Before he could advance any further, I blurted out, "Why do you want the gun?"
The footsteps stopped.
"Because it'll piss him off more if I kill you with a bullet from his own gun," he sneered.
I jumped as I heard him begin to come towards me again, my legs threatening to give way at any second.
I blinked, biting my lip, feeling lightheaded as my heart began to slow its hellish gallop.
My muscles began to recall the countless hours I spent training with my father, practicing martial arts, performing yoga and strength exercises.
"It's all over now," the man whispered, sending my insides into a panic as I felt his breath against my ear, the odor sickly sweet, bordering on rancid.
I didn't think, I didn't breathe, and I didn't have any control.
I just moved.
The man had come up behind me, preparing to knock me out with a hit to the head with the base of his gun. I felt my legs bend and take a single step, moving myself just out of his reach. My body twisted, my torso maneuvering me so that my arms could easily grapple him. I grabbed onto one of his arms with my right hand, using my free arm to jab into his taut elbow. The joint buckled, and the gun fell against the floor with a dull clatter.
I kicked the weapon to the other side of the room before he could react, throwing my arms around his neck in a vice hold. My leg swept behind his as my knee made contact with his hamstring, forcing his leg to fold. He hit the floor, hard, and I didn't let up on my grip even after Alucard burst into the room.
Alucard was shouting something I couldn't understand. The blood rushing through my skull was far too loud for me to even attempt to discern any of his dialogue. My vision was clouded at the edges, my chest heaving with every breath.
He rushed to me, wrenching my arms off from around the man's neck. The amount of force he used was great enough to half toss me to the far side of the room, my back connecting with the corner of the TV stand. Empty picture frames and glass wear toppled off the stand like heavy icicles in the winter, shattering silently against the floor. I sat, semi-paralyzed in pain, watching as Alucard morphed from man to monster in front of my eyes.
He roared louder than any jungle cat I'd heard on TV or at the zoo. He then resumed the position I had held on the man. He straddled the intruder, and began throwing violent punch after violent punch straight at the man's head. Blood began to splatter from the man's face as Alucard's skilled fists connected with his flesh.
He wore the same black shirt from yesterday, the onyx fabric stretching tight against his thrashing limbs. Streaks of red managed to show up against the dark material, making it appear as if Alucard was wearing a piece of abstract modern art.
I didn't question his intentions in that moment. I only observed in awe.
Alucard took hold of the man's head and repeatedly, jarringly, pounded it against the ground. It made heavy, wet sounds with every impact against the wooden floor. The boards of the room creaked, and the paper of my lungs crackled as I continued to stare ahead, watching rivulets of red leak into the cracks between the floorboards.
I could see Alucard's face ripped into a nasty snarl, his hair whipping around his face as he continued his deadly onslaught. His lips moved, but the ringing in my ears had grown too loud for me to hear anything over the sound.
My lips were dry and cracked, my head buzzing with a strange feeling of disorientation. I felt dizzy and thin, like the slightest breeze would tear a hole straight through my body.
So I didn't notice when the man in white had managed to regain control of the fight. I didn't see it when he flipped Alucard over and began to shower him in a barrage of savage fist falls. I didn't acknowledge it when the man clubbed Alucard in the head with his hands, knocking him flat to the floor. I tried to ignore the trickle of blood that seeped out from where Alucard's black hair met with the dark chestnut flooring.
The only thing I did notice was when the man, bleeding, bent and considerably more broken, smashed the glass of the right window using his retrieved gun, and leapt through the opening.
Time stood still. I didn't move. I couldn't move. I just sat and stared at Alucard as he slowly forced himself off of the floor, his bloodied hair painting crimson ribbons along the wooden boards. He got to his feet much less shakily than I'd expected, lumbering over to the window while he wiped his face with his shirtsleeve.
He peered out, running his fingertips over the edge of the broken glass, as if he couldn't fully comprehend what had happened. What felt like hours later, Alucard to come to terms with the events that had just occurred, and stepped back from the window.
My gaze travelled down his form and to the place where his feet met the ground. I watched as they grew larger as he approached me.
He crouched down in front of me, his face impassive, as blank as crystalline ice. His face was shiny with sweat, his hair matted to his forehead with blood. He looked horrific, like he could've been the criminal in the situation, but even so, I didn't feel afraid.
I was lost in thought, so I didn't notice when Alucard placed his hands on my shoulders, and began shaking me lightly. I heard his voice calling my name, but the sound was thick and slow, as if I were hearing it underwater.
"Kid," he said, his tone lifeless.
I forced my eyes to meet his.
He took that as his cue to help me stand up. After righting my position, Alucard grabbed my hand, not saying a word to me. He led me out of the bloodstained TV room, through the French doors, past the long hallway, and to the front door where he slipped on his shoes. I felt obliged to the same.
He folded his fingers around mine, tugging me out of his home, onto the porch, and into his car.
Alucard started up the car and headed straight, plowing through the city. The sun was missing from the sky, but the air was still humid and sticky. Ashen and inky clouds replaced the blue clarity of the spring sky, the birds taking their songs to a place where the light of day still shone.
As time went on, I could only stare out the window and wonder where Alucard was taking me.
It had all happened so fast.
I didn't have any time to fully understand what was happening. I just knew that when Alucard pulled up beside my old apartment that something had gone terribly wrong.
We sat in the heated interior of his car, the quietness thicker than the muggy air. The clouds dusted the sky with salt and pepper hues, casting grey and black shadows over the landscape. I was shaking again, but not from the chills that ran over my flesh.
"Get out," said Alucard. His voice was empty, barren of any emotion.
Gone was the remorse and regret he held, gone was the willingness to move on. He no longer cared. He had changed, yet again, and I felt that this time the change would be irreversible.
"You'll find a suitcase with your things in it outside the door tomorrow," he stated absently.
I was too shocked to even question him verbally. My eyes were staring straight ahead, widening as I came to realize his demand.
"Get out," he repeated, his voice strung with thousands of threads of suppressed anger.
My heart fell to my feet, cracking and splintering somewhere far beneath my skin. My chest became a hollow cavity of blood and tissue, devoid of anything that I previously cared about.
I felt nothing, I wanted nothing, and I knew nothing.
I let my arms move and grip the door handle. I let myself out of his car, not looking back as I shut the door.
I walked around the car, not once glancing back at the vehicle I wanted to pretend I'd never seen before.
My legs carried me up the steps to my apartment, and I reached into the small, metal mailbox for the spare key.
Against my will, I pivoted on my heel, trying to see if this was what I was supposed to be doing.
When I turned back, the car was gone, the clouds were gone, and so was he.
It was like it had never happened.
Alucard
He knew he wouldn't be able to handle her. He'd known it from the beginning.
He felt foolish, like a goddamn idiot, for allowing himself to get attached to something he'd known could get ripped away in an instant.
Fuck this, he thought as he drove though the barren roadways to his home. It seemed as if all the other drivers had cleared out the roads, allowing him some peace in that sense.
I'm gonna have to clean that shit up before it stains, he thought as he remembered the crime scene he was going home to.
He knew exactly why he'd thrown her out, but he just didn't want to deal with it. If he came to terms with that, he'd have to admit that there was a reason he'd found her at the police station that day, one that didn't have to do with him doing his job.
He didn't know what he should've done. He didn't know if what he just did was as justified as he'd assumed it was. He needed to keep her safe, but wouldn't she be in more danger without him?
Bullshit, he heard himself scold, you fucked up her life. She's better off alone.
That's what he told himself as he forced his mind to guide him back to his house and not turn the car around. He repeatedly told himself that she would die if he kept her around. She needed to move on, and she wouldn't be able to with him there.
She'll go insane on her own, he heard himself reason.
He knew that both parts of him were equally right. He knew that he'd have to make a decision eventually, but he didn't expect the circumstances to be the way they were when the time came.
He'd made his decision, and as he pulled into his driveway for the second time that day, he prayed to a God he didn't believe in that he'd made the right choice.
Author's Note: Holy heck. It's been... 3 years? I put this off because I literally had no plot for this. I lost all of my notes on where this was going, but I found this chapter and I think I can add on to it, possibly taking it somewhere else that I'd originally planned. I don't know how often I'll be able to update this, but I will try to do so as often as possible. Thank you all for the kind reviews and patience you've shown. Thanks for not giving up on me when I gave up on this story. Let's see where the this story leads us, yeah?
Thanks for reading and until next time,
-Shan
