DIVISION 52 - BOOK II

CHAPTER XXXIV

P R O X I M O

I avoided the training halls like a ghost. Near but never there.

I avoided Florence. Up until she had pieced together the gossip that was floating around the inner circles off my com feeds and made a completely indiscreet leave from the Division's headquarters.

Part of me had a weak ache for the space she left. For the heat and distractions she gave. For the burning nights and understanding we shared of our darkness. But it was nothing now. Not when Artella Maxim decided to place himself in the centre of the Division as easily as he had.

Of course I did not turn up to debrief the personal guard that morning or the next.

They could do whatever the fuck they liked as far as I was concerned. Our trip to Sector 1 was already planned and he was intelligent enough to read between the lines.

What I didn't expect was for him to confront this directly–confront me directly.

Art never had waited for others to make his decisions and actions for him.

I was halfway down a glowing bottle of Junak by the time him slipped into the opposite booth of the Crypt and rested an arm over the back of the chair like it was his own home. I stared at him under the dim lighting for a moment before filling my glass like he wasn't here at all. It was easier than trying to form sentences. 

Then I grabbed the bottle and tore myself out of the booth and shoved my way through the crowds again. My simmering anger wasn't even directed. It just was.

He didn't bother halting me. I knew he hated these bars. Hated the crowds and the fighting pit. But I felt that lethal stalk behind my back. That presence that said he was as capable as an entire squad of personal guards alone.

When I hit the cool air the rain poured over my head and trench coat.

My next moves were lost. I did not run from things–especially people. So I stopped walking in the darkened street, dropped the bottle and turned to him.

He wore his own trade mark contract gear. State of the art–no pun.

Armour that looked like an upgrade of Vanguards, tech in both forearm plates, holsters across his legs and waist but they were empty... He hardly needed them to be filled. One look at his build and you did not argue, you walked away. His dark eyes stared me down with an insufferable amusement.

He dragged a glove through his hair and let the rain soak it through.

"Been a while."

"Fuck off." I spat.

A snort.

"Still such a way with words..."

"Still sticking your neck out for the wrong people." I retorted slowly.

He tucked his hands behind himself and strode towards me leisurely.

"So, you heard about Dex?"

"I don't care for him–I care you broke into a secure facility just to prove a point." I growled.

"No, Proximo. I really will not have him play in your little guard."

I paused and flexed my jaw.

"What's that kid to you?" I cut out.

Who. Is he to you.

A small amused smile took his hard set mouth. "It's personal."

I made to turn and walk away but he called out to my back.