.. | exit running | chapter 3
That night, Ramsey sat on his couch in the dark, smoking a cigarette and thinking. Nothing had happened, absolutely nothing. The old apartment building was scheduled to go down tomorrow-- Monday. There had been no movement otherwise, and they'd made no progress on finding anything amiss in Laroche's plans.
He clasped his hands and set his chin on them, his elbows on his knees. This frustration wasn't something he was used to and he hated it. For things to be so quiet, he knew, he absolutely knew that something was building. It wrenched his usual calm demeanor into knots to know that he could do nothing but wait.
There was a knock at the door and then the lilting tone of his partner calling him.
"Val? Are you home?"
Sighing, he heaved himself up to open the door and then walked away from it, leaving Bastian to peer into the darkness.
"Is it safe in here or should I draw my gun?" he asked, feeling on the wall for a light switch. He flipped up and Ramsey, back on the couch, squinted as he snuffed his cigarette.
"Jesus, Val. Don't you ever turn these lights on?" his partner continued, standing with his hands on his hips and perusing the room. "You need a maid."
"Why bother?" Ramsey answered.
Bastian wandered around the place and paused at the television stand to pick up a picture frame that sat on top of it. He studied the photo of the smiling woman closely. She was pretty, with dark hair and eyes and a movie star's smile. He looked back at his partner.
"My wife," Ramsey said softly. He got up and took the frame from Bastian's hands and carefully replaced it on the wooden stand.
His partner said nothing as Ramsey moved off into the kitchen, offering him a drink.
"No thanks, we're on duty you know. Why didn't you come in today?"
"I couldn't concentrate there. I have a bad feeling."
Bastian steepled his fingers to his lips. "Me too," he agreed.
Marlow took his usual two deep breaths and slid around the corner, his gun drawn. The cool, bare hallway he faced was dark and offered the safety of cover from the wide open room they'd just come through.
"Sensors?" he whispered.
"None but the ones we've already passed," came the reply in his ear.Duchy moved out into the middle of the hall and peered down it. He wore all black tonight so that his skin gleamed brightly against it in contrast. He'd pulled his hair up in a twist to keep it out of his face but for a few strands that refused to go with the rest. He turned back to Marlow and smiled impishly.
"Get over here before you get shot," Marlow hissed, reaching out to pull him back. Duchy complied a bit too much and ended up pinning him back against the wall.
"Ooh, but a good rush is almost like orgasm," he whispered against Marlow's lips.
The blond grunted and pushed him away gently and straightened his shirt, which Duchy had managed to slip his hand beneath.
"I'm never taking you with me again."
Duchy licked his fingers and traced Marlow's lips with them. "You said that last time, remember? Besides," he brushed back stray wisps of his hair, "don't tell me doing it in that ventilation shaft didn't just blow your mind."
Marlow sighed through his nose and began to move down the hall again. "I swear," he whispered. "You'll get us both caught someday."
"Mmm, I hope so. I want to see you shoot that big gun of yours," came the reply as Duchy followed him.
Marlow rolled his eyes but allowed himself a smile. He was about to make a better reply when his ears picked up the distinctive shuffle of boots on concrete. He plastered himself back against the wall and pulled Duchy with him, hoping they had crept far enough down the archway to be away from the light of the main hall.
His lover held up two fingers. Two of them.
The blond saw them pass by, muttering to each other until the sound of their footsteps faded. Then, he relaxed and made a 'tsk' sound.
"They could at least have made this a challenge for me," Marlow hissed, beginning his move down the hall again. He'd been hoping for a little more action tonight than juvenile breaking and entering. This was an insult to his abilities.
As if reading his thoughts, Duchy laughed softly in his ear. "Just don't get too cocky, blondie, or else you may spoil the plans I have for you later tonight."
"I bet," Marlow whispered, reaching the door he'd been looking for. "After you," he said, making a mock bow.
Duchy moved around him and dug in his back pocket for the tiny pack of tools he'd brought along. He knelt and pressed against the door, listening.
"You sure it's this one?"
"Positive."
Duchy turned his attention back to the lock and went through his array of needles and drivers until he'd selected one to fit the keyhole. Once he'd found that, he'd popped the lock open within two seconds.
Duchy sat back and admired his work. "Best trick I ever learned," he gloated. "Too bad you don't have the hands for it."
Marlow had backed up against the cracked door and was pushing it open slowly. "Yeah, well, at least you're good for something."
Duchy stood up and put his hands on his hips indignantly. "That's not very nice, Liefje."
The blond's smile had vanished as he crept along a wall of the inner room. They'd turned from the cold underground hall to some sort of office. It was almost pitch black, but Marlow felt his way through the room, pulling Duchy behind him by the hand.
They both froze like deer at the sound of voices, muffled, as if on the other side of the far wall. After a moment, the voices grew louder in argument.
What the fuck?
Marlow's instincts told him to turn back- they weren't prepared to encounter more than just the one man who was their target. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else here.
"I have a bad feeling, Liefje," Duchy whispered, reaching out and clutching the back of Marlow's shirt to stop him.
Duchy's 'bad feelings' were seldom wrong; Marlow had learned to trust them. He was about to make a mindful retreat when their careful silence was interrupted by the sounds of voices. Then, even more alarming, sounds of the inner door suddenly swinging open and shoes scraping on the floor.
Then there was gunfire. On instinct Marlow pushed Duchy roughly to the floor and covered him with his own body.
It all happened almost too fast.
Light flooded the outer office room from the door the men had come out of. Duchy groaned and tried to push himself up with Marlow on top of him, but his head was shoved down again so that his forehead almost knocked against the floor.
Muted firing from Marlow's gun was right next to his ear. Looking up the best he could with the heel of a hand pushing his head down, he just caught the two men that fell where they stood.
Bullets fired from their left caused the wooden floor slats right next to his outstretched hand to splinter. Marlow grabbed his shoulder and threw him back behind himself, then turned his aim with practiced, professional reflexes and brought the man down with hardly a wasted shot.
"Get back!" Marlow yelled to him, scrambling back to find cover as more men emerged from the open door. Fuck, how many are there?!
Duchy had finally gathered his senses and his footing as he moved back with the Marlow behind a row of metal filing cabinets. He hadn't gotten a glimpse at how many there were left and he cursed himself for it. He could be of no use to his lover here just cowering behind him.
Marlow on the other hand wasn't thinking about anything else at the moment. As long as he had his lover behind him, he could focus on the rest of them with a single-tracked mind.
By his count there were three of them left, unless there were others still hiding in the inner room. The first man was picked off easily enough; he rose up above the chest he was behind and exposed his head and shoulders too far into range.
"Come on, you fuck," Marlow hissed, watching the shadow of the other on the wall. He waited, trying to calculate how many shots he'd fired.
The man was waiting as well, probably for him to move first. But after a tense silence, he assumed too much and peeked out from behind his cover. Marlow, in position and waiting for just that movement, fired and his target slumped to the floor. Behind him he heard Duchy's horrified groan.
"Oh Jesus, not in the face," his lover whispered, his hand covering his mouth as he watched the blood and shattered flesh spread out from the man's head. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.
Marlow allowed himself a smile as his eyes searched out their last adversary. Duchy could handle most things, but shattered brains and bone at such close range had never quite settled right with him.
But his smile faded quickly when he realized he was out of ammo and he'd dropped his cartridges in the middle of the floor when he'd shoved Duchy under the first round. Shit. This was not one of his better nights.
The other must've been unarmed. He suddenly made a mad dash for the door to the outside hallway. Marlow hissed a curse and lunged after him. He caught him just as the man had reached the door frame, grabbing the back of his black coat and pulling him back and to the floor. A foot came out of no-where and caught him in the jaw, knocking him back while stars exploded in his vision. Then there was a searing pain across his side.
"Duchy!" he yelled, gritting his teeth and tasting blood. Fighting hand to hand wasn't his strongest asset, but he sure as hell knew whose it was. When he clutched his side his hand came away red, but he couldn't quite feel anything yet.
His lover had already emerged from their hiding place and, with a giant leap, had kicked the knife from the man's hand so that it went spinning across the floor out of reach. He plunged the heel of his heavy boot into his opponent's back, shoving him to the floor again. Recovering quickly, the stranger lunged out with his foot in the same movement that he'd used on Marlow, but Duchy arched back and then ducked, throwing his fist into the soft part of the man's stomach. He then anchored himself to spin and bring his opposite leg about and deal a blow to his opponent's head.
Disoriented, the man lunged blindly but caught nothing but air and another kick in the stomach. Marlow was leaning up against the wall, rubbing his sore jaw and watching with a certain pleasure as his lover jammed his elbow into the nape of the man's neck. It should have been a deciding blow, but still, the stranger managed to crawl up and away to put some distance between them. He and Duchy stood staring each other down for a moment.
The man's eyes suddenly widened as he got a good look at Duchy.
"It is you!" he breathed.
Duchy gave a sharp growl and advanced faster than the man could react. He pulled back and shot the flat heel of his hand upward with all his force to the underside of the man's nose. Blood burst from ruptured sinuses, mouth and nostrils and the stranger slumped down to the floor.
Duchy slowly backed away a few steps, his shoulders heaving. He stared at his hand, the one that had dealt the deadly blow, and slowly turned his eyes to his lover. Marlow reached out for him, still holding his bleeding side.
"Come on," Marlow whispered.
"He knew me," Duchy said, as if it was just now sinking in. "Marlow, he knew me-"
"Come on," the blond hissed, grabbing for his hand and yanking him towards the door roughly. "This wasn't right, it was a setup-" he muttered against gritted teeth. The pain in his side was beginning to increase as his body came down from the rush. His vision was starting to blur.
They'd managed to get into the hallway when Duchy hissed his name. Marlow followed his gaze and caught the eyes of a man down the hallway, who in turn was watching Duchy back with the same wide-eyed realization that other had had before Duchy had killed him.
But without a word, the man in the hall turned and fled. Duchy made to chase after him. But was stopped by Marlow's hand on his arm. He stared after the man a little longer but then turned back and had Marlow lean on him even more. He was torn between killing a witness or leaving the blond there for anyone else who could come along.
"Out. Now," Marlow said, holding onto him for support and nudging him towards a dark window at the end of the hallway. If they could break it and go through it would be a hell of a lot faster than going out the way they'd come in, especially with injuries.
"Can you make it?" Duchy whispered as Marlow placed a blood-reddened hand on the pane. He cringed away as his lover drew his empty gun and smashed the glass.
Grunting, but giving no other answer, the blond shoved him over the sill onto the ledge of the building's facade. He followed quickly, nudging Duchy to the drain pipe and following him down it with the best of his ability. Though his entire body felt like it was on fire, escape was the only thing making it to his conscious mind at the moment.
Finally they were in the dark street. They could hear unseen men shouting and footsteps echoing in the night streets, running about to begin the search for them. Every second counted now.
With a thrown glance over his shoulder as he shoved Duchy towards a dark alleyway, Marlow uttered a curse and followed.
PT 4 ----------------------------------------------------
Bastian thanked God they'd been on night duty or else they'd have lost this one to someone else. He would have thought Ramsey would be as thankful but his partner had hardly said a word as they drove out to the scene.
Inside the office building, Ramsey knelt next to the least gruesome of the five bodies. He knew the man; he'd been taken in a few months before for dealing. He may have been just an underling, but who he had been working for had already been established.
Ramsey straightened and surveyed the other two. Bastian was staring at the body near the door whose face looked as if it had been shoved up into his head. A knife lay several feet from him, most likely knocked away in the fight.
Ramsey's gaze wandered, covering the doorway and the near wall with a bit more scrutiny than his partner seemed to have. He raised an eyebrow and wandered closer to where the dark wallpaper was smeared by an even darker color.
He reached out and touched the very edge of it with his finger. The bloody spot had been there a while, but there was still some stickiness to it. The nearest body was a good fifteen feet away, and each sustained gunshots that would have killed instantly.
Ramsey looked towards the open hallway. The streak was angled towards the door, as if the person had leaned there for a moment and then moved on to make their escape.
Their retreat had been a hasty one leaving Marlow little time to plan. They both knew well enough not to go back to the apartment but he was frustrated with his lack of other options. Wounded as he was, they had to find somewhere to go, if only just for now.
So they figured Duchy, who was the cleaner and more presentable of the two should go put down for a motel room. He slipped Marlow inside.
The blond dropped his shredded shirt on the floor and headed for the bathroom as Duchy locked and bolted the door. He watched his lover raise his arm and examine the flesh wound in the bright lights of the vanity.
"Christ, that hurts," he said with a sick laugh. Duchy moved into action without a word and started the hot water running in the sink. He grabbing the white towels from the rack next to the shower.
"This picture seems oddly familiar," he commented, pushing Marlow's arm up again and dabbing at the skin with the wet edge of a towel. His thumb traced a similar scar just above the open slash wound. That one had long since healed.
Marlow breathed out slowly as his lover cleaned the wound and the flesh around it. "Just like old times," he said hoarsely.
Duchy probed the torn skin and then straightened with a sigh. "I don't have any needles for this one. You need stitches, Liefje."
"How's your sewing hand?" Marlow said with a painful smile, taking the towel and pressing it firmly to his side.
They remained there in silence for a long time.
"That man knew me," Duchy said at last. "And the one in the hall who ran away. I saw it in his face."
Marlow nodded solemnly. "Yeah."
"I should have chased him, that one. I should have killed him-" He stopped. To have given chase would have meant leaving Marlow by himself, hurt and unarmed as he was.
They were silent again for a moment or two before Duchy said, "So what happens now?"
The blond wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "My target wasn't there," he said softly. "Those men there were guys I knew, Duchy," he said meaningfully, looking up to meet the other's eyes. "I'd worked with any of them at one time or another-"
"But they still shot at you," Duchy finished softly. "Why?"
Marlow looked him meaningfully in the eye. "Why do you think?"
Duchy sighed and leaned back against the sink vanity. "He knows about me now, even if he didn't before," he said, as if speaking to himself.
Marlow slid down from the counter and moved to the main room without letting him finish. He grabbed the remote from the bed stand, turned on the television and began to idly flip through the channels.
"Marlow," Duchy insisted. "We have to do something!"
"Like what?" the blond shot back. He dropped the remote in disgust. "And let him set another trap? All we can do is hide, just hide until I can figure this out." His frustration made his voice gruff and he stopped to collect himself.
"And what about me?" Duchy continued stubbornly. "If he knows I'm still alive, then he'll be after you for two reasons. That makes us doubly fucked, Marlow! Name one time he hasn't found what he was looking for in all the time you've worked for him!" His voice had risen to a rare level of anger.
"Hush. We have an advantage," the blond answered softly.
Duchy folded his arms in impatience. "Praytell what the fuck that would be then."
The blond stretched his neck calmly from side to side.
"I know the way he works, that's all." With that, he stood and picked up his shirt from the floor, examining the slash the knife had made. He carefully started putting it back on.
"Then he knows the way you work too," Duchy answered, watching him. He couldn't possibly be thinking of leaving now.
"That's right," his lover answered, heading for the door and turning, as if he were expecting Duchy to follow. "So I'll do what he won't expect me to."
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