Chapter Nine

Thompson wasn't mad that they had failed in the retrieval of Darthon. He was actually sad that he couldn't do anything to help them out in their predicament. They understood though, Thompson wasn't the one who called the shots. He was just a poor messenger. He offered a small amount for charity, but Scott and Charlie refused. They were going to make this through without any ones help. However, the mission had sucked them dry of funds: the tickets, the fake invitations, the clothes, the car, and the used bullets. Also from the fact that Lu had to be hospitalized and wasn't going to be allowed to leave for a few more days or a week at max.

Scott and Charlie picked up Lu's job while she was away, but without an attractive young female, the drinkers stopped showing up. No missions were in sight to help them out. Nothing could be done but hope for something to change.

However time passed with no word of anything. Lu was sent back to them but had to remain off her feet for a little more. The glass and wood had cut her feet deep, and almost seriously sliced her Achilles' tendons. Scott was surprised; from her actions he just thought she might have been tired. He couldn't have even guessed the pain she must have been suffering.

Outside the rain was falling gently, and the air was humid. A fog blanketed the city so much so that you couldn't see across the street. Scott was dieing inside slowly. With nothing to do he grew more impatient than ever before. The barkeep had left for a few hours to be at home with his wife. He didn't trust Scott and Charlie with his pub. Especially with Lu hurt and unable to move, but his wife was very sick and he couldn't leave her alone all day.

Scott was behind the counter cleaning glasses, and Charlie was whipping gunk off of tables.

Scott put the glass down with a loud thud, "This is getting read old."

Charlie turned to him, giving him his attention.

"We are wasting our lives here in this dump," he picked up another glass and cleaned it with his eyes closed, "I mean, is this what you imagined life would be like when we became mercenaries?"

"I didn't know what to expect," replied Charlie, getting back to his work.

"I mean all we do is sit around here and get fat, then try to do these missions for chump change. I'm getting sick of it."

"I don't know, I mean I like having time to relax. I think you take life to lightly Scott."

"Maybe."

Silence had fallen between the two friends and the sound of the rain took over. Scott put the finished glass down with a loud thud, and grabbed another. He let out a large sigh and put the cleaning rag deep in the cup.

The sound of the rain was broken by a small rattling from the room behind them. The door knob slowly turned and creaked open. Lu stepped out from the room, slowly limping.

"Lu?" Charlie asked, "You know you shouldn't be walking around with your wounds. You don't want one to open, or your heels to get worse."

She smiled, "Yeah, I know, but I'm just so bored in there by myself. I'll just sit down in this chair."

She limped over to a chair just a few feet away. Scott and Charlie stopped working and stared at her as she slowly limped. When she sat down and got comfortable, Scott closed his eyes again and continued to polish and clean the glasses.

Again the sound of rain dominated. Lu was a little disappointed that the environment was the same out here as it was by herself in the back room. She began to let her mind wander. She thought about how Scott had returned to his cold harsh self like she had feared. The second she came back from the hospital he was already giving her a hard time and not offering any help. He wouldn't even look her in the eyes.

After what felt like a few years a telephone began to ring. Scott opened one eye up to Charlie. He stopped polishing the table and reached into his back pocket and clicked a button on the face pad. He rose to his ear.

"Hello? Yeah, this is Charlie," he was quiet for a few seconds, "Gotcha, sounds good, thanks."

He pressed another button on the face and put it back in his back pocket.

"You're in luck my friend," he tossed the rag over to Scott; "We got another mission."

"No way! Are you serious?" Scott's dull face beamed with excitement.

"Would I lie about something like this right now you idiot?"

Scott chuckled and smiled, "No, I guess not. Is it from Thompson?"

"No, new supplier, calls himself X. Guess he thinks that name is cool."

"Hey, anyone that will give me money is cool in my book," Scott put the last glass down and tossed the two rags under the counter.

"He wants you to meet him at the Warehouse next to the pier at midnight."

"That's an interesting place, well, whatever," Scott went to go clean up.

Lu sat silent as she watched them both. Again she felt alone and left out; this time with no ability to offer any help because of her wounds. She sighed and let her head sink down. After a few moments she rose up and went back to the other room to lie down.

Anticipation had struck Scott hard, not allowing midnight to approach any faster. The owner of the pub returned, and as long as Charlie remained to help, Scott was no longer needed. He sat back in a chair and stared at the clock; taping all four of his fingers on the table every second without fail, lost in a repetition of boredom.

After a while of just sitting there, Scott closed his eyes and sighed. His fingers stopped tapping and he put his hand into his pocket. He turned himself to the right on his chair and stuck out his right foot to lift himself off. Charlie peered over to the clock, "11:30."

"All right, I think I'm going to head over. I'll just walk slow, so that I don't get there to early," a grin came over Scott's face and he walked out the door.

The night air was cool and relaxing, a true spring night. A light fog blanketed the town, cooling the air and leaving a watery residue all over the buildings and cars. The moonlight shinned on the small patches of grass growing here and there, causing it to shimmer as though it was lighted. Scott took a deep breath in, deep inside his mind, he was truly relaxed.

Everything was quite on the streets, an unusual sight. No one hung in the gutters, or down in the allies. No one sat on corners or stumbled drunkenly on the sidewalk. It was as though the town had just taken the night off. Something about this night, maybe it was the mist, maybe it was just coincidence.

Before Scott had realized he had reached the peer. Just about maybe one hundred meters away was the Warehouse. It seemed untouched and the lights inside were still off. Scott paid no mind and continued to walk towards the door. Scott was a few feet from the few stairs that lead to the warehouse door when he heard a noise; a small rustling sound in the allies behind him. He stopped for a second and turned around, gazing into the darkness.

"Scott, is that you?" there was a faint voice calling out to him.

He couldn't make anything out in front of him. It was to dark even clouds had covered the moon. The street light over the darkness began to flicker and slowly pushed itself to turn on. In the light, a man as tall as him, stood wrapped in a brown trench coat. His face was shielded by a black scarf.

"What do you want?" Scott demanded.

"Thought I would just give you a little advice," Scott was sure he had heard this voice before, but couldn't remember, "You got this job from someone named X right?"

"I don't have to tell you anything. If you are not going to make sense then I'm going," he turned around towards the steps.

"Wait, before you go," Scott stopped and opened his ears behind him, "Have you done any research on X?"

Scott remained silent, left hand stashed in his pocket, right hand grasping his gun.

"I guess not. I wouldn't go in there if I was you. Trust me this once, there is no man in there named 'X', there are only people ready to take you out. It's a trap."

Scott turned around and looked him in the eyes, "What do you mean a trap? I don't care if it is a trap anyway, I can take care of my own fucking needs so shut the hell up!"

He began to laugh with a hoarse tone, soft and crude, "I know you can take care of yourself, but while you are dealing with them, what about Charlie and Lu?"

Scott's eyes widened, "You bastard, what have you done to them?"

His eyes squinted with delight, "Nothing my dear boy, absolutely nothing. You should learn to trust your elders. Would I come here to warn you about that trap, and give you this time to run back and check on your friends?"

The man reached into his trench coat and began to dig; Scott began to pull his gun out, waiting to see what he was reaching for. After a few moments the man took a cigarette and lighter out and began removing his black scarf. He let the scarf blow away in the gush of the wind, out to sea, and stuck the cigarette in his mouth, lighting and puffing gently.

Scott sat there for a moment, his mind confused and racing. Something hit him, and he knew who the man was, it was Thompson. His heart began to pound, could he trust Thompson? Was Thompson setting him up? He couldn't waste anymore time on this matter. He sprinted past Thompson and ran down the dark streets. Thompson stared at him as he ran away into complete darkness, quickly fading. He took a long inhale and let the smoke run out smoothly from his mouth.

Scott ran as fast as he could, sprinting down block after block. His muscles began to get heavy and his sides cramped but he pushed on and continued to run. After a few more seconds of heavy sprinting he could feel his muscles begin to burn under the increase in hydrogen ions on his muscles, but he had to run faster, he couldn't slow down for a second.

As he turned the corner his eyes widened and his speed began to lower. The door of the pub had been shot and kicked down. He walked in quickly, looking around. Bullet holes had been fired everywhere. All the tables and chairs were smashed and alcohol was soaking in every fiber of wood on the floor.

Scott's mouth opened, at the counter, covered in blood, was what he believed to once have been the barkeep. He had been shot so many times that his blood stained the entire counter and his body did not resemble a human form any longer.

"Damn it?" Scott began to get nervous, "Charlie! Charlie where are you? Charlie!"

He rushed into the room where Lu had been sleeping. She wasn't inside; the couch had been torn up with a knife which still laid in the cushion, however, no trace of blood or bullet holes to be found anywhere. He quickly closed the door and moved on, running fast up the stairs quickly falling and launching himself back up.

The door to the study room that lay above the tavern was also broken off of its hinges, but had not fallen completely down. Scott kicked it down himself instead of attempting to open it and rushed inside. The paper and books that had once cluttered the room and hung in every corner seemed to have been taken. No shreds of paper remained anywhere.

"Charlie!" Scott called out, "Charlie are you in here?"

He could hear a moan from behind the small desk that lay in front of him. He walked slowly but carefully over to the sound.

"Charlie!" Charlie was lying behind the desk, gasping for air and bleeding on the floor, "Charlie, what happened?"

Scott kneeled down next to him and lifted his head up so that he might be able to speak.

"They came out of no where," his voice was quiet and hard to understand, "They took everything and killed the guy downstairs."

"What about Lu?" Scott demanded.

"I'm sorry Scott, they took her, I'm not even sure if she is still alive."

His heard stopped and his face burned.

"Who did this?"

"It was," his voice stopped as he tried to mouth out the word.

Scott sat patiently and told him that he didn't say anything. Charlie let out a small laugh, however it caused him to spit up blood and what Scott believed to may have been parts of his lung. Scott examined Charlie after he coughed. He had been shot twice in each leg, once in his right hand, the other in his left arm. One in his shoulder blade on the left side, and a knife wound down his chest.

"I wish, I wasn't dieing," Charlie smiled, blood falling from his mouth.

Scott became tense and his throat closed, "What are you talking about?" he asked, "It's nothing you can't handle."

Charlie laughed a little more, "You are such a bad liar."

Scott's voice began to waver a little, "Charlie, who did this?"

He was silent as he attempted to make sure he could say the whole name, "It was," he rested for a moment, "It was Diadem."

Scott's eyes widened and his mouth clenched shut. Why was Diadem after them? Sure they had stolen some footage of a meeting, but nothing worth this; nothing that would cause them to go such great lengths to find out where he was and terminate his friends.

"Don't worry, I'm going to get help now," Scott attempted to get up but Charlie grabbed his arm.

"Scott," Charlie was gasping for air.

"Yeah?" Scott could feel tears rolling next to his eyes.

"I've always," silence, "I've always been jealous of you," Scott's eyes opened in shock, "You see," silence, "I've always loved Lu. Ever since," silence, "you've brought me here. I wish I could have been more like you," cough, more blood, "better at helping out with things, and fighting beside you," silence, Charlie's tears began to mix with his blood, "I guess I was just too weak to truly be there for you," silence, "Keep up the fight without me. I know you can do it."

Scott was silent for a moment, "Shut up you idiot!" he couldn't fight it any longer, tears began to roll down his cheek, "You were always there for me: protecting me from stupid mistakes, helping find out what to do next, always talking to me about my problems, always listening, always caring. Without you I wouldn't be here today. You're my brother, I trust you with my life," Scott's tears began to fall on Charlie and his eyes opened in confusion, "I love you like the brother I never had. As close as a man can love another man; you are my true friend, so don't sit here and tell me you were a waste of time! You fucking dumb ass! Don't say this is the end! I can't go on without you helping me, looking over me. Please don't go, I'm begging you, live another day."

Charlie smiled and the tears in his eyes increased. Suddenly his smile faded, his eyes opened and he stared at Scott. He began to gasp for air with extreme force, his face becoming terrified, "I don't want to die!" he screamed in pain, "I can't die now! It's so dark, it's so cold. Help me! I'm afraid of being alone! I can't accept this; please I don't want to-"

Charlie's body tightened up and he vomited on Scott's lap. A large chunk of meat covered in layers of blood. For a moment, after Charlie had puked, he seemed fine and looked back up at Scott.

"My brother, my friend," the words gently flew from Charlie's mouth as he closed his eyes and fell backwards, head smacking the wood.

Scott picked up Charlie but could feel no response, no pulse, "Charlie!" he couldn't control his voice, all he could do was scream, "Charlie! Charlie! Charlie," each screamed got louder and muffled with tears and pain, till all Scott could do was cry over his fallen friend.

After an hour had passed, which had only felt like seconds, Scott let go of Charlie and let him rest on the floor. His face was relaxed, and almost seemed to be smiling. He was finally free, and was allowed peace. Scott said nothing and thought nothing as he stood up. His clothes had been soaked in blood but it did not bother him. He walked down the stairs slowly and began grabbing bottles and bottles of beer and whiskey and what ever else he could find. He broke each one on the ground in various places until there was but two bottles of beer left. He went back to the counter and grabbed a pack of cigarettes stashed in a corner. It was covered in blood, but only the plastic around it had truly been ruined. He tore the paper and grabbed one cigarette from the many, then threw the pack on the ground and stepped on it as he walked by.

He walked back up to the room where Charlie laid.

"Here, I thought you might like some of this expensive stuff we could never have," he poured the whole bottle around Charlie and some on his face.

He turned around and headed out, down the stairs. When he reached the door he pulled out his light and stuck the cigarette in his mouth. After it was light he put his lighter out and took a long smoke, slowly staring up at the stars. Scott grabbed the beer and opened it, drinking only a little then firmly holding the bottom he let it turn upside down and begin to pour out.

He continued to walk down the street, letting the beer trail him on the floor. Finally after about twenty feet or so, the beer ran out. He was surprised it had lasted that far. Quickly he took one last inhale then flicked it behind him. The cigarette landed on the stream of alcohol and caught fire. The fire ran, devouring the booze all the way back to the pub where it was set off. There was a large explosion from the inside and fire engulfed the whole building.

People came running out of their homes to see what had happened, Scott was the only one walking away from the explosions. The buildings were made of material that did not burn easily from the outside, but could burn rapidly from the inside. The fire seemed to have triggered unknown clouds that took over the sky and let out a massive invasion of rain. Scott stopped walking and looked up at the rain, the drops mixing in with his old tears that he, for some reason, could not wipe away.

The events had finally triggered in his mind. Why did this happen? Why did they have to die? Why did the man have to die? What about his sick wife? What would happen to her? What if he had a child he never spoke of? What if they get kicked out onto the streets because she can't work? What if they die cold and lonely, just like he did?

What about Lu? Why had they taken her? What would they want with her? Did they want to use her as bait to get him since he didn't fall for the trap at the peer? Was she still alive? Did they hurt her?

What about Charlie? He understood why they would kill him, but why would they take all his papers and books? Not all of them were about Diadem and this weapon or whatever. Why did they seem to not be after him? Why did they seem to want him to come to them? Was he really that important? Did he really have something they valued? Why?

The questions would not stop picking at his brain, tearing his mental focus into two, causing only one emotion to remain; rage, fury. Scott couldn't think any of the questions through. He had none of the answers, only Diadem did. He must go to the quarters where he had just recently set foot, but this time he wouldn't hold back.

Before he knew it, he had walked all the way there. Over fifty blocks completely lost in his own thought, however, the gates pulled him back to reality. He looked up at something waving; it was the Diadem flag, a crimson red flag with a golden ring that connected three solid golden triangles that were pointed downward in the middle, each separately and equally apart.

His anger built up, his whole body began to shake. He threw off his trench coat and put his gun under his belt and pants behind him. Then he grabbed the fence and began to climb up it quickly. When he reached the top he was stopped by barbed wire, but he continued to push on, cutting his hand deeply. For some reason the pain never reached his brain and he continued to climb over and jumped down the many feet to the bottom. He had arrived in Diadem territory. Only two thoughts crossed his mind and he pushed himself through the mud and rain: find out what Diadem wanted with him, and why they had killed and taken the only people who had meant anything to him in this hell once called a world, and burn this building down to the ground, taking every person inside, outside, anywhere near this place, with him.