River & Revenge

03 | hulk in a brothel

A N D E R

     Things around him were green when he woke up. In the haze of rise-and-shine, Ander's first thought was either being in a dream or being trapped in the Matrix. He'd have accepted either fate but it was something much worse, it was the reality and the reason for all the green was a bunch of LED lights. Great, I am in Hulk's bedroom.

Headrush found him when he tried to stand up. He held the edge of the bed, attempting to pull himself up from the floor but his knees gave out and he stopped halfway. His whole body ached and he felt like it'd shatter into several pieces any second. For a moment, he believed he'd forgotten to speak, his throat was dry and the more he tried to talk, the more it burned.

The wooden floor squeaked beneath his knees and there was a bitter pain in the bottom of his feet, he wanted to look but when the dizziness took over, all of his curiosity vanished. He turned his body, leaning on his back on the well-made bed, stretching out his aching legs in front of him. He was certain he slept on the floor, the tense knots in his back were cracking evidence of it.

He looked around. It appeared to be a motel, only fancier. Not sliding door fancy but no stains on the wooden floor fancy, the bar for luxury was pretty low but because of the lights, he had to place his bet on a brothel.

Sunlight peeked through the hideous set of flimsy transparent floral curtains, but as they slowly faded into a dim light, he assumed it was going to rain soon.

It took him a moment to recall how he landed there. He remembered his unsuccessful attempt at spying, then being drunk and eventually. . . River punching him in the supermarket. That asshole. The watch on his wrist was still intact and at seven in the morning, there were two reasons driving him to his own hell. One, he was definitely evicted from his apartment by now and two, his deranged brother was on to some bullshit.

He clutched his head as tight as possible to stop the spinning, "River? Where the fuck are you?" It burned but he yelled anyway.

There was only silence.

"River," he tried to scream but it only came out as a garbled whine and finally, there seemed to be some noise outside.

"Relax." It was all he heard before the doorknob rotated and there he was—River Cassidy, the man responsible for half of his nightmares. Better known as his brother. "Hey," the silver-eyed convict grinned, throwing a juice box his brother's way. The small paper container landed right beside Ander's feet and even though he knew he couldn't pack anything but a weak punch, he wanted to thrash the grinning asshole back into his miserable cell.

He was grateful for the juice though, he drank it like the world was ending.

"You don't look good," Ander could hear the snicker in the snide comment.

He wanted to yell and ask a million questions but he had no idea where to start. Whether to ask what this place was or how the hell he was here. He was curious how he found me, or what exactly did he intend with his incompetent kidnapping but. . . "What did you do to Marco?" He blurted it as soon as he sensed an improvement in his voice. Ander recalled the drunk shopping spree with his childhood friend, but throughout the foggy memory of last night, he couldn't pinpoint him anywhere.

"Nothing. Left him where I found you."

River walked past a confused Ander, settling on the bed with a tired sigh and even though his head was pretty near the headboard, his feet dangled off the cheap mattress. River's giant figure often didn't fit in anything under a queen size bed and Ander fought off a weak smile.

Wrapped in a dirty silver t-shirt and a pair of jeans torn off at the bottom, his criminal brother looked like he'd been through hell. His hair was extremely short now, possibly the first layer of new growth after a head shave. Ander knew his brother hated it, his hair used to be his favourite thing about himself.