Without Guilt
Chapter XVI: Haunt
Pier shuffling nearby woke Otis before he even reached him, the older man shrugging his backpack on already. "Hey. Light sleeper?" He remarked.
Otis exhaled, briefly glancing to the old clock on the wall. The sun wasn't up yet. He'd shift to sit up, bringing his own bag to his lap since he'd been using it as a pillow. It wasn't that he slept light, he just hadn't gotten much sleep.
"I got the stuff." Pier told him shortly as he zipped up his coat.
Otis gave him a nod, pausing to drink some water before strapping his mask on then smoothing his hair back to pin it with his beret.
The two would quietly leave the small flat, closing the door behind them to avoid waking the rest of the crew.
"He's in room 4 at Med. I can fob off the guys on the shift, they'll be eager for a smoke this time." Pier suggested, the two pausing as the light came on in the hallway.
Mason appeared from the stairs, coming to an awkward stop when he spotted them. He rubbed his hands together as Pier and Otis exchanged glances, the latter hanging back somewhat.
"Hey, T… can I talk to you?" Mason requested, keeping a bit of a distance.
Pier sensed a slight tension in the air, but a light motion from Otis assured him it would be fine. "I'll go on ahead." He informed his companion, clearing his throat as he gave a nod of farewell. He'd glance back briefly before disappearing down the stairwell.
The silence stretched long and thin, Mason mustering the nerve to come closer. "Otis, I'm sorry about last night. I was drunk and then Dorothy hit me with that stuff 'bout Dominique and I just… I've not been handling it well."
Otis listened but he took a step back when Mason got a bit too close for his liking.
Mason froze, holding his hands up. "I'm not gonna hurt you, c'mon, T. You know I'm not like that. Last night was a mistake." He pleaded his case.
The man's eyes might as well have been blades cutting into his flesh though, cold and hard to read. Mason had seen that look before, but it had never been directed at him. Now, they softened a fraction – ever so slightly that if Mason hadn't spent so long observing Otis, he might have missed it.
Otis moved closer, some of his former strength displayed in his stride and it pinned Mason back to the wall, the taller man cornering him.
Mason felt like his heart was in his throat from how intensely it was beating. "I really didn't mean it." His voice cracked at the end, only further making him flush.
Otis retrieved a small pocket flip-pad from his jacket, balancing it against his wrapped hand as he scrawled something down.
It gave Mason a bit of time to think about everything except Otis – which really backfired since all he thought about was Otis and the man was standing barely a few inches away- his brain ceased its pitiful yearning when the pad was held up.
'WHICH PArT?'
"Which part of what?" Mason felt like he'd get slapped for asking, but Otis just tapped the pad again unhelpfully. "Sorry, T, I really don't get it." He began to say, shrinking further when the pad was dropped aside, fingers curling into the scruff of his collar.
His brain refused to process the next few minutes, just about registering that Otis was pulling up his ballistic mask.
Scarred lips pushed against his mouth, a searing kiss burning him to ashes on the spot.
He blinked and it all seemed to be over in the same instance.
Otis' grip on his shirt loosened, retreating entirely to lower his mask back in place.
Mason opened his mouth to speak but in that moment anything comprehensible had left him so he just stood there opening then closing it like a goldfish, his face rapidly reddening.
Otis Meyer had kissed him.
By the time this realisation dawned on him, his Adonis was nothing but echoing steps down the hallway.
Ashton gasped awake, a choking gurgle being torn from him as hands clamped over his mouth and nose, his eyes bulging in their sockets with the struggle to breathe.
Something was being pushed into his mouth, his wild eyes struggling to define the shadows hovering over him in his moment of panic.
His resistance hardly lasted, the hands finally withdrawing once he swallowed whatever grainy powder he was force-fed. The large amounts of dry substance made him hack out a cough, the assault leaving him shaken and disoriented.
The two men standing over him seemed to watch, silent, masked reapers.
The surreality of the situation was too baffling for him, his heavy blood loss already having left him weakened.
"Who are you?" He croaked, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. He'd been peacefully sleeping to try and recover from the deep wound that had torn through his calf muscle, the painkillers helping to put him away for most of the day. "Who are you?!" He demanded to know, failing to sound as threatening with the acrid taste on his tongue.
There was still some of the powder in his mouth and he tried to wipe it on the back of his hand to little success.
The larger of the two men stepped forward again, the glint of a shiv being drawn from his jacket making Ashton sit up with new found energy. "I warned you what would happen if you lay a hand on Scarlett again." Pier's gruff voice boiled his blood.
"You fucking lousy-" Whatever else Ashton was going to say was cut off into a pathetic whimper when the second man smashed something into his wounded leg. "You fucking cowardly son of a bitch!" He exclaimed all in one breath, the pain blinding him for a moment.
"Ain't no one here a coward 'cept you, you ain't man enough to do nothing 'cept beat on a defenceless woman." Pier hissed, his companion having to firmly cease his arm to stop him from sinking the shiv into Ashton's throat.
If left to his own devices, Pier would surely beat him to death but that would defeat the purpose of the entire plan.
Pier tore away, retrieving the bag containing the powdered rat poison. He'd grab Ashton by the jaw again, applying such pressure that the wounded man was forced to open his mouth or otherwise have it dislocated.
He dumped the entire content of the plastic in, not caring for the spillage and dusting puffs as Ashton whimpered like a bullied dog.
Ashton writhed, feeling like he was going to die just from the sheer quantity of dry powder, hacking and coughing violently where he lay.
His suffering seemed to soothe Pier's demons temporarily, though Ashton took little comfort in seeing the second man hand Pier the wrench.
He thought he recognised it. It still had dry blood on its head.
Ashton's bloodshot eyes whirled from Pier to the calmer man, his burning skin breaking out in goosebumps as leather clad fingers gently wiped the excess powder from his face, brushing away the evidence. "Silver… eyed devil!" He wheezed.
He was sure that Otis Meyer was lying dead in the streets, buried by the snowstorm.
But no, he would recognise those pale eyes anywhere, and sure enough when he lowered his mask, Ashton felt his blood freeze in his veins.
It was impossible to breathe, an abnormal heat rising in the back of his head, throbbing at the base of his skull.
Otis stood calm as a ghost over him, the only evidence of what they'd done to him being the stitched wound at his temple. He held his mask close to his chest, his lips moving to form barely audible words.
"You're going to wish I killed you." He whispered the very words Ashton had menaced him with two days ago, retrieving a bottle from his pocket.
It was the familiar orange colour of a pharmacy prescription, inside it a pair of blue coloured pills. He waved it lightly at Ashton.
What were they?
"You're gonna want those." Pier advised tauntingly.
Ashton found himself reaching uncertainly as the pain began to spread in his chest with every cough that racked through him.
Otis popped the cap off, walking away slowly as he emptied the contents on the floor. The bottle followed with a clatter of the plastic on the cold tiles. "Pick. It. Up."
Perhaps the irony of those words were lost on Ashton's panic seized brain, but his mind was faintly playing back Scarlett crying as she picked up the laundry from the stairwell while he berated her.
She'd been shaking and crying, just as he was now.
Otis didn't waste time to watch him though, replacing his mask and making for the door with Pier.
Pier lingered just a few moments longer, probably wanting to see Ashton Lewis succumb to the poison, but the last he'd see of him was his angry, bull face red from the strain of trying to breathe as blood ran down his nose.
The door closed behind them without a sound.
Please R !