Fatal Crossover From Hell

Chapter Three: Reno, meet Vicious

Vicious snatched his room key off of the counter, when the door to the motel flew open. His bird made another low sound, jumping slightly. In the doorway was a red headed man. Not expressly large, but he had quick eyes and two dark scars accenting them. He paid Vicious no heed, only stormed next to him. He was bleeding from many small cuts, and from the shins down, his blue suit was stained brown. It was apparent from his state that he had been walking in the rain for sometime, the bruise forming along his neck and cheek spoke of an accident that had recently happened. "Carthwin. Helms. NOW." His deep voice demanded.

They were looking for the same person it seemed. And they got the same response. "Never 'eard of 'em."

However, the red head had a response that Vicious didn't. Digging into his pocket, the man slammed a news article on the table. It was damp, but easily readable. "Then why the FUCK does it say he checked in here on the 14th?"

"He what?" Vicious growled, reading the article over before glaring at the woman behind the counter. He had wanted to throttle her before, now it was an effort to remain on his side of the counter.

"He ain't here." The woman growled. "I ain't seen 'em for three weeks, ya happy?"

"No, I-" he deliberately drawled out the next word- "ain't. You are going to let me up to get his things then."

"You an wha army Red?" The woman growled. "His stuff belongs to me, he didn pay me."

The red head made to draw his side arm, and Vicious' bird was in the air. For once, the animal missed it's target, the red head was quick enough to fall to the side, saving his arm. His jacket had already seen better days. Like lighting, the woman ducked into her office.

The red head regained his feet with the same impressive speed. "Call that damn thing off or I will shoot it." He snapped.

"Kill my bird and I will spit you on the railing." He retorted. "What do you want with Doctor Helms?"

"Who's asking?" The red head responded, drawing a second weapon.

Vicious knew enough to know when people were playing with guns and when they were serious. The red head looked half spooked, and most assuredly serious. He snapped his fingers and the bird alighted again. Petting the animal's chest, he watched the red head replace one of the guns. "Vicious."

"You or the bird?" The red head asked, smirking.

"Me, and you are?"

"Reno." Neither man offered a hand to the other. Reno sighed. "So you want to talk to this Doctor too?"

"That, is a business matter." Vicious crossed his arms over his chest. He let his eyes travel up the red head again. No one in this town would wear a suit and carry three side arms. "I am assuming it is the same with you? Too bad, he is coming with me."

Leaning on the counter, Reno reached about behind it before responding. "Actually, I just want notes and a camera; you can feed his ass to your parakeet for all I care."

"It isn't a parakeet." Vicious pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up the red head was at the stairs. "Where the hell are you going?"

"Room three-seventy."

Vicious raked his hand down his face. Why hadn't he thought of looking at the check in book? With nothing else to do, he followed up the red headed man, who, despite at least being articulate, wasn't helping his bad mood.