BURIED

SIX

Z A Y N

"Hey, you bitch!" he shouted, but the music drowned his voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

They were a few feet away from the bar so I could hear them clearly. No, not just hear them, I could smell him. He reeked of scotch. He had his sweaty hands around her wrist. I watched as she struggled to break free, but the grip was too tight.

"The sign says-"

"I'm not a hooker, you dumbass," she spat.

His jaw clenched, tightening his fingers around her wrists. I was having my second shot, and everyone seemed to ignore the little scene like it was something normal.

She swung her leg out, kicking him in the shin. Before he could react, she dug the heel of her shoe into the top of his foot. He growled, throwing her to the floor. She raised her head, looking for help. No one moved. That was when she noticed me. She was lying right beneath me. She parted her lips to speak but closed them. His lips curled into a smile as he reached for his belt.

A hand grabbed the man's shoulder, ripping him away. Herman, the owner of the club, was standing right behind him.

"What's going on here?" Herman asked.

"She won't do what I asked!?" Crow said.

"So you grab her?" Herman spoke, his voice high and angry. "You are fucking disgusting, get out!"

The man grunted, letting go. I watched Herman reach a hand out to her, but that was my cue. I followed him out.

"Crow," I whispered. The road was quiet, and the door he used went through the alleyway.

He was startled at first, but he turned, recognizing me. "Ah, Bane," he smiled, reaching out a hand.

"You haven't changed, have you?"

"Ah, Bane, you of all people should kn-"

I cut him off. "Crow." He was a shiny asshole that deserved to get beaten up an alleyway.

He realized. "Wait, what do you want?" he demanded, reaching out for his gun. The pocket was empty. "Where's my gun?"

"You don't need it."

"What do you want?" he stuttered.

I felt a smile pull itself on my face, placing my hands on his shoulder gently. "I'm not going to fight you, Crow." Using my hands, I pushed him down to his knees. "I want you to tell me all you know about Ivan, Ivan Emsky."

۵♡۵

I had waited patiently for my theory to manifest, but impatience eventually led me to accept a job.

I had received a phone call from an unknown number to eliminate Alexei Johnson, the man happens to be on the same list.

My clients had a knack for hiding their identities. I did not blame them; I had done the same, after all. I understood the necessity of anonymity for safety.

I left my apartment at 1 am, driving to Whitethorn Street. The rain-lashed windscreen obscured much of the neighborhood’s charm. It was one of the first residential areas that existed before the wealth of its new residents transformed it entirely.

I suspect that it had more middle-class people in the 1960s.

Preyton was a city built to solve housing problems for people due to overpopulation. It’s a perfect place for perfect people, perfect everything. It's almost too perfect, and yet unusual.

Every moment is spoken for, from the tasteless coffee sold in cafeterias to how the streets are crowded at exactly six forty-five and empty at exactly seven thirty.

I knew little or nothing about Alexei except for information everyone knew; he seemed clean. Normally, I'd give myself time to find out more, but my patience was running out.
Trying to get answers when you start from nowhere is a waste of time, but I work with theories.

And Alexei fits right there, whether he is dead or alive.

Alexei lived in one of the really big mansions in Whitethorn. His house was on the hill overlooking the lake. I parked my vehicle way down the hill to avoid drawing attention. The rain continued to pour relentlessly, soaking through my coat as I made my way towards the house. The neighborhood was eerily quiet, the only sound being the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on the pavement.

Sneaking into the house was easy because the security was probably faulty. I circled the perimeter of the house looking for a vulnerable point of entry, finding an unlocked window on the second floor. I quietly made my way up, scaling the trellis with ease. The open entrance led to his office.

“Fuck.”

Alexei was standing a few feet from where I stood.

“He sent you, didn’t he?” Alexei stammered, his eyes searching for an escape, his body trembling. I followed his eyes to search the room; the table behind him had a bunch of files messed up on the table.

“Let’s not make this hard. Why were you on the list?” I inquired. “Who do you think sent me?”

I wanted to get something out of Alexei. I should have; I had to. I could feel my patience running thin. I had spent months doing my research, but someone had started covering the tracks, making Alexei one of my last chances. and target.

“What?” he was sweating, his skin pale, his veins becoming more visible. He looked sick.

“Look, don’t lie to me,” I started. “I’m too tired for this.”

He dropped to his knees and started begging.

“Look, you’re not the only one he sent, please... I- I can’t.”

“What was it that got you involved with them?” I repeated, my voice steady. Alexei's lips quivered, but no words escaped them.

I felt the blood in my veins boil and channel itself faster, my system was racing.

I couldn't. I lunged forward, the blade flashing in the dim light of the office.

Alexei's eyes widened in terror as the sharp steel found its mark, piercing through his neck with precision.

I dug the knife deeper into his neck breaking the skin, a strangled gasp escaped his lips as he slumped forward. I watched the body get drained of life, blood staining the carpet beneath him.

The anger in my veins subsiding.

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

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