John jolted against the chains that held him to the metal chair and shivered as the cold splash of water ran down his body. His hand rattled and buckled against the tight chain that kept his hands locked behind the chair. He blinked and attempted to make out the shape of his surroundings, but all he could see were blurry figures and a moving light above him. There were two large windows on either side, and he could feel the breeze on his skin. Cold and unforgiving.It made his teeth chatter, and he hissed instinctively. The face above him was blurry, and he had to squint his eyes to see the figure. "Did you miss me?" Melissa smiled down at him. She patted his hair and gripped it hard enough to hurt. “We have a lot to catch up on dear John.” John chuckled and shook his head. “Am I in heaven ? Did Xavier send his bitch on his little errand? "Oh, I am so scared..."“Y-You...” Melissa's face distorted into a frown, and she punched John hard. He chuckled and stared at her, telling her
"Rick, tell me how you got here." Jones asked. Rick managed to get himself to walk by putting one hand around Jones's neck. "At this point, it doesn't really matter how I got here. We have to get out of here before they find us.“Why? ” Jones frowned. "Why do we need to leave? We thought you would be banging and flexing your ladies.”"Believe me, if I had the choice, by this time I would be in bed, but I am here being supported by an ugly stinking man." Jones chuckled and handed Rick his gun. "Do you still know how to use one of these, or is a lesson required?" Rick grabbed it with laugther. "Yes, if I get to shoot off one of your toes!" “Passed successfully. I do not need to show you how to hang yourself with a rope. John thinks Alice murdered you."“No! She actually saved my life. There is a lot going on, and the Drakens are in greater danger this time, with John as the target. "What exactly do you mean?" "You and I both know that underneath all of that, John is still very so
The setting sun's rays colored the Los Angeles sky. It surrendered the world to streetlights, enticing music from clubs, and half-dressed ladies that modeled their entrances. Across a deserted street, a neat black limousine glided to a halt in front of an old warehouse. "Darling, we've arrived," Mellisa, a lady with eyes the color of the ocean announced. John looked at the sagging windows of the proposed building, its overgrown bushes and stairs with too many broken edges with a raised eyebrow. "Honey, are you sure this is the right place?" Melissa leaned in, caressing John's laps. Her fair skinned cleavage showed and the subtle perfume she used on her dark-brown hair drifted into his nose. It made him smile. “My brother's ready to discuss the price for a share in your app," Melissa trailed off, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper as she slowly pulled up the end of her black dress. “Once it's sold, we can finally get married, and you'll get to savor -" "Alright," John int
He drifted. His eyes opened to view the whiteness of a ceiling and the coolness of the room. Three times his eyes opened and each time a day passed. He saw Melissa smiling at him, drawing him into a room filled with armed men. He couldn't resist her pull; she was stronger than him. The men were all laughing at him. When he finally pulled his hand away from Melissa, they all opened fire. It was a nightmare. John opened his eyes. Everything around him was spinning, but it began to settle and come into focus. In the background, he could hear voices that sounded like they were coming from outside his door and approaching his room. "Sir, I need to know why you moved him from the hospital. This is our major hideout, and that man is a stranger," a female's voice spoke in a frustrated tone that held a sting of anger. The second voice, a deep clear-cut male's voice, responded in plain words, he seemed used to her character and spoke as one would to a daughter throwing a tantrum. "Yes,
Days after the little room incident. Consistently. John was pulled into freezing cold showers, made to lift weights he thought would amputate his limbs. Backed by a calculated diet his fats give way to actual muscles. Hair grew till its length covered his face and a clipper was taken to it. He was barbed bald. Between events, he watched the news with rapt attention but saw nothing about Melissa. He would see Richard in the halls and they'd ghost walk past each other. One day, after his usual drills, he stood in front of his bathroom mirror feeling the spamic effect of the weights racing up his spine. Scars decorated his face and body; remnants of his fall. A thin scar, about the size of an eraser, ran down one side of his cheek. On his body, they resembled the works of long-clawed rats. There was a knock at the door but he ignored it. A bald muscular man who tilted toward the scary stared back at him from the mirror. Alice kicked his door open, she was dressed in a black crop
But there was no gunshot. He lowered the gun because Alice held his arm and shook her head. John stood up, breaking the tension in the air. He stared out the window, relieved to see no police presence outside. The bartender lay lifeless, Sam bled on his own floor, and Alice, well, she stared hard at Sam. Her knuckles were pale from how tight she held them. Alice sat on the floor with her legs crossed, her gaze locked on Sam's bleeding wounds as he held them covered with a rag. She shook her head, struggling to accept the truth. She didn't want to believe what she had just heard. "Why would you want to betray Richard? He's your friend," Alice asked, her voice trembling. "We need to get out of here," John said, the edge in his voice reflecting the urgency of the situation. "We cannot be here when the police arrive." Sam wheezed and coughed, struggling to speak. "I had no choice, my darling. They have Sara with them. They have my daughter, my little bunny." He coughed again, blood
The fuel light in the car blinked at the red zone as they sped down the highway, a Chevron station with its bright lights spilling onto the road was up ahead. Alice eased the vehicle and pulled into the gas station. They had left Sam behind to hunt down the whereabouts of Sara with only Sam's research as their guide, and with the silence on Richard's end, John felt like he was chasing the wind. The night felt tense, and uncertainty loomed in the air. John reached for the black box containing Sam's research papers, knowing that this brief stop was a crucial moment in their mission. They needed a destination, a lead to follow, and he hoped that within the contents of the box, they would find their path forward. Together, they sat in silence beside the gas pump, the bright overhead lights casting long shadows. "Will he make it?" Alice's voice broke the heavy silence, tears glistening in her eyes. John glanced up from the scattered documents he had picked up, his thoughts returning to
John opened Sam's box and placed the last set of documents in an organized pile. He then closed the box and shifted his gaze to the passing scenery outside the window. In the rearview mirror, he observed Sara methodically loading bullets into the shotguns, while Alice maintained a rhythmic tap on the steering wheel. The information he absorbed from Sam's documents weighed heavily on his mind. It painted a grim picture of an organization known as the Dark Arts, that successfully infiltrated significant sectors of the government and was now seeking to exert control over major underground groups. John couldn't help but feel a sense of pride for the Drakens, knowing that they were not easily swayed by external forces. However, the emerging power struggle was far from ordinary, as the Dark Arts had been operating in secrecy, steadily growing in influence. Their recent alliance with Spectre was a troubling development, and John suspected that his own work might be at the center of their rap