The Face Thief

Chapter 8

~The best time to catch bad guys,is night-time.

Same line I'd learnt from this popular kids cartoon--PJ masks. (P.s: please I beg of you,never watch this shit). I took out a cigar and lit it.
"Got another of that?" Marcus asked me. I always kept a whole pack with me,you never know.
"Yeah" I handed him a stick. I fumed smoke from my nostrils. "So---" I began. "What now?" I asked Marcus. He just kept puffing his cigar.
"Another lead's dead" his voice held this tinge of anger.
"Do you think we were followed?" I asked. "I mean,before we got here?" I added.
"Looks like they've been waiting for us to show up"
"You think the guy set us up?" I asked again. This whole situation was making me think too much.
"All the guys are dead" Marcus muttered.
"Meaning?" I asked.
"There's not a damn one to question!" He retorted. "Ughhhh!" I heard that groan loud and clear. Looks like it came from one of the guys.
"I think we've got one" Marcus threw the cigar stub away, and walked towards the man. The man was already up,trying to get away unnoticed.
"Where do you think you're going?!" Marcus bellowed, pulling hard against his hair. The man yelped in pain, struggling to get Marcus's hand off his hair. Angrily, Marcus slammed his face to the floor. The man gave up resistance, his face bloodied.
"Who sent you?" Marcus yelled at his face. The man looked like he was in a daze.
"Uh-uh" his lips were slowly moving.
"He's going to go unconscious!" I warned Marcus. Marcus tightened his grip.
"Don't tell me what to do!" He yelled at me. Okay,okay bro. You can stop shouting now. I turned away, and kept on puffing.
"Answer me!" Marcus spat in his face.
"Uh-uh" the guy mumbled again. Marcus slammed his face to the ground again. The guy's face worsened. Marcus really had a hell of anger issues.
"You're going to kill him,if you continue like that!" I was yelling at him. And that was the last thing we wanted. We still hadn't gotten the information we needed from him. Sighs.
"

Wh-White h-house----"the words slipped from his lips as he fell unconscious.
"White house" I repeated. Marcus turned to looks at me. He stares as if thinking,for a second.
"What did he mean by, white house?" Marcus was asking himself. I was thinking hard too. Was white house a code name for somewhere or something. If yes----then what? I asked myself.
"Was he just mumbling to himself?" Funny how Marcus was the one asking the questions now.
"I don't think he'd just joke like that or mumble some random place or thing---" I rubbed my chin, still thinking.
"He sounded specific" I told Marcus. I strode to where the guy was lying----almost lifeless----on the floor. I searched his breastpocket--nothing.
His back pockets yielded nothing either. I searched his aide pockets. I felt some sort of paper and pulled it out. It was a small card, the edges were a bit rough. The card was solid, all-black. A business card,perhaps. I squinted to check----nothing. I turned the other side. Other than a very complex symbol I didn't quite understand---nothing. I shoved the card into my coat pocket for keepsake,you never know.
"Found nothing suspicious on him" I told Marcus. Marcus wasn't listening. I think he was trying to figure out what the 'white house' meant,or probably symbolized. This case was getting complicated after-all. Somehow I still couldn't find that missing link to all of them. What really was it. Marcus's cellphone rang. He huddled to one side and picked it up. I might as well smoke. I took out another cigar stick and lit it. Tobacco really did some great wonders to the soul. I turned to Marcus. He just finished taking the call, his face lit with----what exactly?
"What's wrong Marcus sir?" I puffed.
"I think I figured what he meant by white house" he was beaming at me.

✪

"White avenue is white house" I shut the car door behind me. For one,the house wasn't white.
"There's only one way to find out" he was walking towards the entrance. It was an abandoned apartment building. With this 'haunted house' vibes you'd only find in horror movies.
"Are you sure it's safe to just waltz in there?" I pointed at the entrance.
"Just one way to find out". What the actual heck fuck. Was he obsessed with that word now. I took out the gun Marcus had given me earlier.
"Got spare shells?" I asked. He tossed me a magazine and I loaded it. We made way towards the entrance. A rickety metal gate stood there. Marcus grabbed an edge of it. I did the same.
"Pull on three" I nodded.
"One----"
"Two"
"Three" we said in unison, pulling the gate open. It made a loud creaking noise before we stopped. I walked in,same with Marcus. The interior wasn't so bad. Huge boxes scattered around the place. Thick, long wires hang loosely.
"What kind of warehouse was this?" I asked. Marcus shook his head.
"You go upstairs,I'll cover this floor" I nodded. The staircase was on the side. Gun forward,I climbed slowly. I reached the floor. Same as the other, although it branched into two other sides apart from the main floor. I strolled down the left aisle. I could spot a door, slightly ajar, at the end of the aisle. I walked with caution, my eyes swayed around too. I stopped beside the door. I waited for sometime,leaning against the wall.
"Holdup" I shoved my way into the room----nothing. I let my guard down a little.

Click!Click!Click!Click!

What was that?I turned around. They sounded like---- gun reloads. My face went pale. Just then-----

CREEEAAAKKK!!

That was----the gate. Oh no! I think we'd just walked into the enemy's trap.