Entering the room, I unbuckle the sling around my chest once again and grab the shotgun by the barrel letting my other hand slip into the grip.
Pumping the shotgun I scan the room, no windows, a secondary door to the right of the room, a low hanging chandelier dangles in the middle of the room, a sliding glass door that leads to a balcony. On second thought, I could've used that as an entry if I thought this out a bit more. All of this information runs through my mind as my brain runs on pure adrenaline now, my body feeling calm and steady but my mind being overclocked.
Three guards, two with half drawn weapons and the last at the corner, two women sit in the middle of the room, panic and shock stricken on only the younger woman's face.
My barrel aims directly at the chest of the older woman, her facial expression unreadable. Old, worn and sad, her face was familiar and distinct.
"I've been waiting, old friend." She says as I stalk closer, her agents having already drawn their weapons, I make sure to look straight down the barrel, my one card of security being the trigger of my gun. "Stand down." The suited woman says waving her hand.
"Madame?" one of the men say, his tone uncertain.
"You heard the motherfucker," I say eyeing the guard who had spoken, he was the first to draw, had his sidearm out before I had even stepped foot into the room "wouldn't wanna disobey a commad from the president would you?"
"Out, everyone out. Take Eva with you." The sitting woman says, taking the woman's hand into her own and placing it on her cheek. "It's alright, everything's alright." She says caressing her hand. "Go, I'll be out in a moment."
"Mother, please." She pleads, her brows knitted and wrinkled. Caressing her cheek she lets her hand fall after seeing the resolve on her face. She turns to leave, her face down as she walks past me, her face hidden beneath her hair.
A moment passes, the guards never lowering there weapons as they escort the woman outside. One of them trying to close the door only to realize the handle had been busted from my previous entrance.
Another moment passes, the barrel of my gun never leaving the center of mass of the woman before me. Meeting the womans gaze, I pull a chair up, one hand always on the trigger.
"Rain, pond, rivers, forest. You've always sucked with aliases and pen names." I say, brushing the stock with my thumb unconsciously.
"I've never had a want to hide, or keep much secret." She crosses his legs, and leans further into the couch. A show of a relaxed demeanor. "But making it seem like I do helps get my point across just fine."
"So what." I say, my thumbing picking up its pace. "You're my secret benefactor? I've known that." My grip tightens on the grip, a slight creak coming from the friction between my hand and carbon fiber grip. "But why? For what reason?"
"My oldest and dearest friend." Her head tilts back. "We've lived to long. Look at you." His head coming back down, her eyes pointed to me. "Look at me."
I study her face, greying hair pecking at her widows peak and the sides of her long tied up hair. A sharp jaw with a bit of loose hanging skin, she was well groomed. The poster face of a politician. But I can see it in her eyes, tired and worn, no light to be had in them, it was like looking in the mirror not to long ago.
"You seem to have aged better than I" I say, scratching my chin with my shoulder, the friction from my beard hitting the right spot.
"You know that's now what I mean" she pauses looking me up and down, eyes showing a bit of amusement. "Even if it is true." She chuckles.
"I've seen better days," I say, a smile trying its hardest from tugging on my lips. "I miss those days."
A moment more passes in silence, feeling like eternity, my barrel never leaving the center of her chest. She uncrosses her legs and leans forward placing her elbows atop them.
"I've missed you Vik." She says, her tone warm and sincere, her fingers laced and intertwined, masking her face. "I miss Alvarez, you have to know I didn't mean for him to go down the way he did."
"You don't get to call me that friend." I say, emphasizing the word friend, my tone filled with hostility. "Nor do you get to miss someone you murdered. Even stole his fucking dream." I feel my eyes sting, a familiar sense.
"You were always to emotional for this type of environment, to octane." Her hands fall to her lower face, her eyes once again falling to me. "I trust you have the picture" a pause "and the revolver." Her eyes falling to the door.
"Yeah, I brought em." Hand still on the grip, my other hand travels down to my pants pocket and takes out the picture. "They looked happier." I say crumpling the picture and tossing it on the table.
"You've always been sentimental." She takes the picture , flattening it from the crumpled mess I had made of it. "I was counting on it."
Raising the picture up, she studies it, running her hand through her hair, her eyes showing a bit of light as she places it on the table separating us. She closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sighs.
"I might have grown to old, I myself am feeling quite nostalgic." Her eyes remained closed. "Carrying on, after everything. I haven't found peace."
"Boo fucking hoo, the worlds tiniest violin can play you a million tunes," I say, the disdain apparent in my voice again. "But It wont come from me."
"You feel the same way," the woman says, her voice raised a bit, his temperament becoming a little more sporadic. "You're just as much to blame for how things went down that night as I am." She says, slamming a hand on the table. "So your words, you should watch them carefully."
"Or what?" My face contorts in disgust, the womans attitude returning to a previous ego I was all to familiar with.
Her face looks directly at the barrel of the shotgun, a smirk appears on her face as she breaks into laughter, crazed and desperate.
"You'd be doing me a favor." She says, her laughter stopping almost instantly, now staring directly at me. "Both of us a favor."
Looking at her a moment longer, I bite my bottom lip, my mouth forming into a frown that I can feel from the ends of my forehead to the bottom of my neck.
"Maybe we are long past due," I say lowering my shotgun. "I suspect no one else is coming? Why?"
"This was an improvised plan on both our parts. But no, we won't be disturbed." She says, reaching below and lowering herself, reaching beneath the table.
My hands instantly raise, my barrel once again pointed at her center of mass. Only for her to come up a second later, holding a glass of cheap Amsterdam vodka and two glasses, raising it as if surrendering.
"I got your favorite." She says, slowly lowering both glasses and the bottle to the table. A smug smile on his face.
My eyes dart from her face to her hands, her body language and how slowly she moved made it apparent he had been under such duress before. Pouring into both glasses, she slides one toward me.
Raising the glass I smell it, a familiar scent hitting my nose, mixing with another I was familiar with. Almost invisible under the smell of alcohol, I tasted the bitterness of what lie beneath.
"Give me your glass" I say placing my glass back on the table.
The woman shrugs. And slides her own to me, picking it up, I smell it. Both smells eminating, both had been tampered with. Whatever it was, it was some type of toxin, I was damn sure of that.
I smile at the woman in front of me, sliding the glass back to him. I shoot my own back, letting the liquid heat rush down my throat.
"An easy out, you were always a coward." She says shooting back her own. "You really didn't need to bring anything besides the revolver and picture you know." She coughs in between words.
"And you still take swigs like a rookie." I say, putting my glass back down. "I like to be sure, didn't know what I was getting into when I came here."
"We have some time." She pauses, as she picks the bottle back up, swirling it in his hand. "Before it kicks in." A look of melancholy plainly written on her face.
We drink again, silence emanating and taking over, the rave and music down below must have died without us noticing. Setting my shotgun on the table, I shoot back another glass. The liquid now tasting like water, and running down my throat smoothly like such.
Time passes, we talk about how she had adopted Eva, a refugee girl from a war we had no business getting involved in. How she gave him inspiration for today, how proud he was of her.
Letting her hair down, I see how age hadn't taken away from her beauty in the slightest. My first and last love.
"Alvarez," the woman before me says pouring more into my glass. "I thought i was doing the right thing, fulfilling his dream." She stops, his eyes furrow. "This life, I- Nevermind." She sighs, as she slides me my glass, eyes now down to her feet.
Halfway down the bottle, I feel a bit buzzed, feeling the heat enter my cheeks, the threat of slurring my words evident behind my next words.
"You did a good job," I say hammering the glass back, "healthcare, veteran recovery, employment statistics, tax reductions, people approval ratings. You did it all." Slamming the glass on the table, I burp. "You also seem like a half decent mother. Alvarez would be proud."
She looks up and laughs hardily, a genuine smile across her face.
"You know, if I could've changed one thing that night. I would've had you with me. During this whole thing." She says, pouring into her own glass. "I think we could've helped eachother. Avoiding this type of freedom." She says as she shoots the glass back again, needing to squint I can tell she was already having a hard time.
"If you would have tried to convince me any other time besides now, I probably would've just bashed your brains out with a pipe or something." I shrug, motioning for him to just hand me the bottle, noticing his breathing get heavier. "Then I would've killed myself as well." Feeling my eyelids getting heavier, I take a swig from the bottle, two gulps, some spilling onto my beard. Another burp escaping me.
"We could've helped a lot of people." His head starting to tilt back and forth, his eyes beginning to close slowly, and open even slower. "Did what Alvarez would've wanted for the world." He pauses as I make my way toward him, and sit beside him, letting him lean into my shoulder. "Together."
"We could have done a lot of things differently that day. But I never cared for the world." I say, chugging the rest of the bottle. "I only ever cared about the both of you."
No response, the woman lie still atop my shoulder, her body still, Not a breath to be heard or felt.
Her head hang loosely onto my shoulder, her hair had been released earlier, falling around her face indiscriminately. I push some of her hair back with my fingers behind her ear.
"Sweet dreams captain song." I whisper.
Too tired to cry, I lean back letting her body fall back with me, my breathing slowing and the heat from my cheeks being replaced by a numbness. I close my eyes, letting the world around me drift off, further and further.
Then I hear it, a plead of some kind, a desperate plead for me to do something, anything. That I need to wake up.