The Boat That Rocked (Rocketshipping Fanfic)
Part Ten
The Voltorb Club was rundown, the music too loud and the floor sticky. There were holes in the bar where impatient youths had kicked it while waiting for their drinks. The club was more of a standing and dancing place, with only a few scattered tables with high stools, and the cheap alcohol attracted a large crowd.
James leaned on the bar, a bottle in his hand, staring into the electric blue liquid that splashed against the sides as he spun it on the plastic counter.
He looked up and scanned the swaying crowd, teenagers jumping and yelling to bounding music. It was a difficult job – it would be harder to spot anyone amongst the rowdy dancers. Then again, that's why Alphonse had chosen this place.
It took some time for James to find Alphonse. He was standing alone on the other side of the club, not dressed in his usual black suit but in jeans and a dark coloured t-shirt.
Budge was leaving the men's bathroom, dressed in similar clothes and started moving towards one of the empty tables.
The client came in five minutes later – a man in his thirties with no sign of having eyebrows. To James' surprise, he sat with Budge at the table, greeting him like an old friend. This is new.
Alphonse remained where he was, watching the two as they laughed and grinned. He seemed to be waiting for something.
James' jaw muscles clenched as he pulled his eyes away from the three, scanning the room once more for anyone suspicious. He saw no one. But the feeling of doubt wouldn't leave him. The client wouldn't come in alone, not here, not when he was meeting Alphonse, yet he couldn't find the other person. Or persons.
James swivelled around, facing the bar again, bringing the electric blue drink to his lips. He didn't drink it but held it to his mouth, swallowing his saliva so to appear to be doing so. He placed it on the counter, letting the rim of the bottle follow the numerous scratches on the plastic, leaving a path of condensation behind it.
As James mapped the counter, he sensed a burning rage, a stare of animalistic hostility boring into his skull.
He glanced up and around but saw no one.
Turning back around, he noticed the bartender drying a glass with an old rag, the movements slow and concise. Wait…hasn't he been doing that for the last ten minutes?
James lifted his head and met the cold-eyed gaze of an executioner.
Executioner. That's what they were called – too murderous or blood-starved to be hitmen, too murderous to be assassins. Why didn't I notice him before?
However, the answer was clear. He had been too focused with searching the dance floor, thinking that the client would bring whoever with him, that they would be another temporary fixture to the club.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it. He looked back down, returning to mapping the bar's dents and scratches. I have to keep calm. Remember – isolated. You only notify, you keep out of it.
James glanced up at the executioner again. He's watching me. Not Alphonse or the client and Budge. Me.
He pushed his drink away. I need to get out of here. This is the first time I've been noticed, and by the worst type of person possible.
As he started walking towards the exit, Alphonse's head snapped as he looked over at him, his entire body turning. The two at the table suddenly stopped talking. The client raised his hand in the air, fist closed, and then slowly lifted his index finger, as if pointing at the ceiling.
The music died.
James froze.
The dancers around him were motionless, like robots that'd had their power abruptly cut. The club went dark.
James' heart was racing, his blood rushing in his ears. A hand grabbed his arm and someone started dragging him through the crowd, away from the exit. He heard glass smash and the thud of boots as someone jumped over the bar – the executioner was following him. James picked up his pace and the grip on his arm tightened.
They passed through a door and lights flickered on. The men's bathroom.
James looked at the hand on his arm. It was a man's hand, veins standing out on the rough skin, forearm muscles twisting as the person released their hold.
"Budge?" James hissed, wanting to demand an explanation but too scared to say anymore in case his voice was heard.
The man turned and reached behind him, removing something from his belt. He passed it to James. It took a few moments for it process in his mind.
A gun?!
"No, no, no." he shook his head, his concerns for their pursuer forgotten. He never wanted to hold a gun - all it took was a second to fire it and once he had, that was it. He would fully become the darkness he wanted to keep at arm's length. He kept away from the gunfights, he kept away from the action. He watched and gave the necessary information – and then left. He was never seen or noticed. He was invisible. He was no one.
Jaime said the jobs would be the same. This isn't the same. This is completely different. I'm not watching, I'm being watched – I'm being targeted!
James looked accusingly at Budge but the tall man met his gaze with an empty expression. "Take it," his voice reminded James of a rusty drainpipe. "The vent in the fifth stall is open. Go."
Then Budge moved past him, another gun appearing in his hands, and disappeared back into the club.
James ground his teeth. Fifth stall? Right, perfect. He pushed the fifth door open and looked up to see a hole in the ceiling. Oh, yeah, totally perfect.
He stepped up, his feet balanced on the toilet bowl, tucking the gun into his belt, and pulled himself up, dragging his body into the ventilation system. Oh, this is just fabulous.
After fifteen minutes of crawling through the filthy ventilation shaft, James saw another open gap where a grille had been removed. He pulled himself towards it and struggled to get out of the confining maze, resulting in James falling to a hard cement floor and landing in a heap. Graceful, very graceful.
Standing up, James started to dust himself off, discovering grease and dirt in every crease of his clothes. He gave up, resigning himself to the dragged-through-the-rubbish look, and glanced around at his surroundings. He appeared to be standing in the alleyway behind the club, large bins pushed against the walls.
He pulled out the gun from his belt and his hands automatically moved to check if it was loaded. It was. He touched the safety, clicking it on and off with a swift flick of his thumb. Why do I know what to do with a gun?
A sound from the end of the alleyway made him jump and he raised the gun, flicking off the safety again, pointing it directly at – "Jaime?"
Jaime raised her hands, showing she held nothing, giving him a small smile. "Hey, James."
He lowered the gun, the safety clicking back on. "What's going on?"
"Not here," she turned around, motioning for him to follow her. "There's a car waiting."
A small black car was indeed waiting at the end of the alleyway, the front tyres up on the curb, the engine running and the driver's seat empty.
Jaime got in, sitting behind the wheel and released the handbrake. She looked up through the windscreen at James who was hesitating, his fingers twitching against the chilling metal in his hands.
"We gotta go, James!" she sounded desperate, panic clear in her voice.
A loud bang behind him made James turn to see someone moving in the shadows of the alleyway – moving straight towards him.
He spun around, opening the car door and throwing himself inside. He had barely slammed the door shut when the car lurched forwards, picking up speed as they roared down the small street.
A gun fired, a bullet ricocheting off the car into the tarmac. "What the hell is happening?!" He shouted, twisting in his seat to look at Jaime.
She glanced at him and then returned to watch the road. Her knuckles were white, her grip on the wheel so tight that James could see the bones in her hands shift under her skin. "Tonight was a trap – a kind of test."
Anger flared in his chest. "A test?! For who?" This is just getting better.
She shook her head, "No, it wasn't for you. I told you, Alphonse trusts you."
He ground his teeth and turned to face the front, glaring through the windscreen. "Okay then, what?"
"Someone had been targeting Alphonse for a while, sending hitmen, gangs, thugs, dangerous packages. All to places that Alphonse is known to visit regularly, to places he frequents, and to people he knows. None of them came close, but they were getting closer. It started to become obvious that it wasn't just a normal grudge or one of the usual upshots."
The car swerved, the tyres screeching as they spun onto another road. "Alphonse got some people to look into it and he discovered that one of the big faces had taken a disliking to him."
James' jaw shifted, sliding side to side. "Alphonse is one of the biggest in the city, right?"
"One," Jaime repeated. "He's one of them. He isn't the only man that controls the underworld – he's one of the major cogs in a massive system."
"And one of the others is after him?"
"He stepped on their toes, took some of their clients, used some of their 'exclusive' contacts."
"Like me now, I suppose. Exclusive, that is."
"Exactly," she nodded. "After that, they took notice of what he did and it seems that they came to a decision between allying with Alphonse or…"
"Getting rid of him."
"So tonight was a test – what was their decision, was it really who he thought it was, etc. A test of their power, sort of thing. And so he organised a meeting with one of their clients that was already on our side. The club was mostly filled with our people, and Budge was to pretend to be Alphonse."
James frowned. "That doesn't explain why the executioner was targeting me."
"An unpredicted factor."
"What?!"
Jaime looked at him, a glint of fear in her eyes, and James realized that he had unconsciously raised the gun, the barrel pointed straight at her.
"Sorry." He lowered it.
She was quiet for a while, licking her lips before speaking. "The executioner was unexpected. In fact, Alphonse had already spotted the hitmen the other man had sent to the club. He thought all that had to be done was for you to pinpoint their locations, tell him, and then he could take them out without the others or any of the normal civilians that had got in noticing."
That irked him. It meant he had missed something. He hadn't seen anyone suspicious in the club, he had completely overlooked these hitmen.
The car slowed, pulling to a halt outside his apartment block. Here? She brought me back home? What if people were following us?
"Alphonse is inside."
He leaned back in his seat, letting out a shaky breath. Jaime reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezed it. "It'll be alright." She said softly.
He nodded, not really believing it.
She moved in her seat, leaning over so her head rested against his chest. He brought his chin down to rest on top of her head, closing his eyes.
"It'll be alright."
A/N:::
Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading this - am grateful, and love reading your reviews!
The story after this point will follow James for now and his life, while Jessie continues on with hers behind the scenes. I have a faint idea of what is going to happen in this story but the characters take the story where they want. If that makes any sense.
Please continue reading and leave your reviews! Thank you.
Atkar