Gone Rogue (13 page)

"After all that training you’re still a klutz.”  Slade said now sitting to catch his breath.

"How about a thank you, you ass," he said trying to change the subject.

"Thank you," Slade said, and patted him on the back, Slade waited a moment and then added “You klutz." 
             

***

They hit a hotel that looked welcoming for ones that needed to sink in a hole and sleep.  No record of them there, no worry at the moment for the Secret Sanctum on hunting them, no running for the night.  Slade was sure after killing more agents that the Sanctum would change their minds and use more lethal capturing techniques.

They hadn't had a good sleep since they were forced to sleep by the nymphs that Zach didn't want them to forget. 

Slade knew Zach was a sex addict, but holy crap was he that hung up on it, that he couldn’t talk about anything else.  Slade felt in the pocket for cash to pay for the hotel.  When Slade unfolded the hundred dollar bills that were in a clip a card fell out.  Slade forgot he had the card yet.  It was engineered to have the payment go through for any amount, anywhere.  Slade looked at Zach; he looked down at the card and picked it up.

“I wonder,” he stopped as the stout man behind the counter stopped his typing.  “Never mind Slade, I will tell you later.” 

They walked to the room, both too tired to really say anything to each other.  As they opened the door the smell of the stale room hit them hard.  They left the dead bodies at the station.  Zach was silent since then the hit to close to home for his comfort.  No jokes, nothing, but silence was shared between them.

It was no wonder no one stayed there the smell was terrible.  The walls had layers of white paint on it with hints of smoke on it from cigarettes.  The light twitched but stayed on; the beds were separated by a table and lamp.  The bathroom was where a closet use to be and a small dresser had even a smaller television on it.  The beds appeared to be infested with bugs and probably other reminisces of anyone that stayed there in the past.  It made him feel like his arm would get infected if it wasn’t covered, but when he looked at his arm, he saw that the tissue healed with only a small scar.  It showed each place the teeth bit in, and the tearing from a single claw when she swept over.  No need to bandage a healed wound, he started to take his boots off.

"Slade, any idea what is happening to us?”  Zach asked sitting on the foot of his bed taking his boots off in a slow manner.

Slade was about to say something as Zach bent down to untie a boot, but that’s when Slade saw two bullet holes in the back of his shirt.  "Shit, man, why didn't you tell me you were hit."  Slade went to his side of the bed, to get a closer look at the injuries.

"What you mean I’ve been hit?”  Zach asked trying to look over his shoulder.

"Did you feel anything when those helicopters were chasing you?"  Slade asked starting to realize maybe he didn't know he was shot.  He heard of people having been struck and years later, they find the items embedded in them. 

"I felt sticks, and other stuff flying when I was running past the shrubs, I figured I was getting hit with debris."  He said still trying to see the holes. 

“Don't move; let me see if they are still in there."  Slade prepared himself for the worst.  Slade slowly removed his shirt, and took a gasp of air.  "No wonder they charged me.  They thought they hit you enough times to be a strainer and if you were normal they would have been correct."  Slade said realizing that several holes were already healed over possibly from prior occurrences.  "I only see two shots in the back, but yet you have multiple hits in your shirt.”  His back was red and the old looking wounds had an ugly bruise to them.  The bullet holes that still had bullets in them were oozing with blood.

Zach took a moment and sighed, “That explains the soreness.”   

“Laugh now, but this is going to hurt.”  His eyes starting to scan around for something to use for surgery, his eyes landed on a kit that Zach must have grabbed from the police cruiser that he didn’t know they had.  He sat straight up making his back straight, his skin getting puffy in the spots that couldn’t heal.  “Ready,” Zach looked around and grabbed a knife, and bit the handle.  He nodded, his hand shook, but Slade calmed it down enough to make the first incision.  Zach’s muscles clenched as the skin was sliced with the scalpel; Slade saw the metal slug under his skin.  He took a tweezers and as gently as he could he got the bullet and pulled it out.  He repeated the steps; he saw a bottle of whiskey, and opened it.  Zach eyes were closed; he poured it on his back to clean the wounds.  Zach cringed in pain, but his eyes opened suddenly.

“Give me some of that,” Slade handed him the bottle and he took a swig of the whiskey.  “Okay that wasn’t as painful as I thought it would be.”

Slade looked at him like he was an idiot.  Like he was risking it, all for that one shot again.  "Are you bleeding in front too?”  Slade asked realizing now that the old holes were not holes from the past but from the now.  The wounds had healed already including the ones that the bullets were just removed from, which only meant the bullet left his body from the other side.

"Not any more, for I am,” He stopped and itched his head as he studied his abs. “highlander?”

Slade grunted a laugh out, "Ok immortal warrior,” Slade studied the rest of him, and noticed no more bullet holes, but his skinned looked warm, especially where the necklace sat.  "You’re burning up.”  Slade saw him cringe in pain and he flipped on to the bed trying to rub the invisible flames from his neck and back.  The holes seemed to smoke, his skin melting back together.  "What the hell,” Slade said looking at a scar starting to form.  It looked like the skin was burned together like the old days of healing when knights burned their skin together to stop the bleeding.

"What the fuck,” A groan and deep scream of pain escaped him as he tried to roll his flames out.  He screamed standing up and running to the bathroom, hearing him turning the shower on.  Slade could hear it sizzling, as he walked into the bathroom.

"Fuck you, asshole,” he said as if accusing his blood brother for the cause of his pain.

“I didn’t do this to you.”  Slade said, “at least I don’t think I had anything to do with it.”  Slade said a little too calmly for the situation according to Zach, as he turned an evil look towards Slade.

"Fuck you," he charged at Slade and speared him.  Slade fell back to the bed and rolled to the other side.  The bed cracked as the big ox fell on it.  Zach jumped towards Slade, and was caught by the giant’s right fist.  Zach landed flat on his stomach on the bed. 

Slade shook him a little bit, but got no response; he was catching some well-deserved rest.  Slade looked at the scalpel that landed on the floor when he was speared.  He picked it up and got the clothes from the floor amazed at the holes.

“Shit, you need new clothes.”  Slade looked at him making sure he wasn’t waking up anytime soon, "You will feel fine in the morning bro.”  Slade said moving the rest of his limp body onto the bed. 

He started to wonder if their fathers went through the same thing.  Did they know what they were?  Did they have to fight every moment of every day like they had too?  He stared at the fan waiting for an answer but nothing came but his eyes growing heavy until sleep took him as well.

Slade grabbed the room key and locked the door as he left.  He walked to the police cruiser that he already disabled the GPS on.  It wasn’t as complicated as the Sanctums, just a wire here and there.  The car was the only thing left from the shooting.

He got into the vehicle and drove away.  At the time, he didn’t know if he would return.  Right now, he needed to clear his head.  The window down, the air cool by the night air he drove through the city.  His sunglasses off, not able to see the different forms people were on the sidewalk.  He was sure that they were out there but right now, he didn’t care.  He didn’t need to kill them anymore. 

He would kill only when it was to protect now, and that was final.  He stopped at a red light, prostitutes walked opposite direction seeing the red, and blues on top of their car.  Soon they would change the car’s look, to make it more usable for their need.  He looked to the right and saw a guerilla warfare outfit.  He turned right and parked in the small lot. 

The lights were on and the store was still open.  He walked to the entrance.  He slid his sunglasses on for a moment and looked at the cashier.  “Human,” he put the shades away.

“What was that mister?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself.”  Slade replied back.  The clerk had a long face and black hair that stayed close but fell to his ears in the back.  The normal look for a guy left in the eighties.  It had a little bit of a curl that was well groomed. 

“I am about to close, what you looking for.”

“New wardrobe.”

“I only got one thing that will fit you sir.”  He walked around the counter and grabbed a pair of black leather pants.  He then grabbed a black tank top.  He was about to ask why the pants, but realized this was a bouncers outfit.  “That coat looks too warm?”  Slade nodded and took it off. 

“I can rip the red inline out and it might fit better then.”

“You would do that?”

“For the right cost I will do anything.”

“Thanks,” Slade looked over and saw a manikin in tan tactical pants.  A blue T-shirt and black military boats.  He walked over to it as the man started at his coat.  A sign read the outfit was made of the strongest material known to man to stop bullets and knives.

“I call it, dragon scales.”  Slade quickly looked at him.

“What’s it made of?”

“I created it, I can’t tell you.”

“How much?”

“That outfit, which will not fit you, is about twenty thousand.”

“Are you able to sew that in my outfit as well?”

“No, your coat I can do something else.  If you like that I have some gloves that might fit you and a guy of my statue.”

“Show me.”

He opened the counter and took out a pair of gloves, both looking like fighting gloves.  “They are made from the same type of material.”  He pushed them closer, “you could punch for hours and still feel like silk on your hands.

“How much for everything?”

“I could sell it all for thirty five thousand.”

“Deal.”

“If you need more materials, there is a store.  Let me see here,” he grabbed a map and pointed at a road intersection.  “They have more items like this over there.”

Slade handed him a card, “Swipe it, thanks.”

The man swiped it and processed the payment.  Slade took seven more hundred dollars, “I was never here.”

The man pointed to the sign, still took the money.  The sign read exactly what he said.  “Confidential is our law.”  He looked back at the clothes, “Give me thirty minutes, and I will have them done.”

They didn’t speak much, when they both woke up some time past ten.  As they opened the door, the sun burned their eyes; Slade threw his sunglasses on instantly while Zach just squinted.  It felt like they just woke up from a hangover. 

He came back late that night realizing if he left now, he would not be any better than before.  It was a bond that he would not separate ever again.  It was time to start the assault against the agency.  He was going to find this weapon that he was sure the dragon was hiding.  He would win with the help of his brother. 

Slade first looked at Zach’s clothes and then himself.  “Shit, we need new clothes, if we go out like this, people will be looking.”

“They look at you already, you’re a giant.”

“Well they will take another look at us, due to the bullet holes.”

Zach climbed inside the Jeep, and from underneath the cloth by the tire well he pulled a familiar box out.  On the side it read Rob Wesley, and Zach went and pulled another on out from the other side that read Zach Preston.

“Where did you find these?”  Zach asked.

“Made them last night.”

They started to slip on the clothes, the clothes bringing something out inside Slade that he thought he lost.  He was the meanest and strongest piece of shit when he was in this uniform, something he was close to in the Sanctum’s outfit but not totally.  Zach’s pants tucked inside his boots, Slade soon copied and tied the boots tight enough to make it look like he was cutting his blood off to his feet.  Slade shut the crates and pushed them back to their hidden place without the effort that Zach did pulling them out. 

“You know I sort of missed being a sniper,” Zach turned to look at Slade, both sitting in the back of the Jeep.  “You know, we haven’t done this kind of work since we joined the force right after the army.”

Slade was making sure everything was out of his pockets before he set both his clothes and Zach’s on fire.  He lit a lighter that was inside his crate, the clothes soon started to burn.  Before Slade could turn to Zach, a cigar was help up in front of Slade’s face. 

“This is the part I missed the most,” Zach said watching the flames burn their old lives away. 

“Agree,” Slade took the cigar and lit it with the lighter while Zach used the flames from the fire.  Slade took a breath of the smoke from the cigar and blew it over his debit card from the agency.