The joints where the door was held in place to its jamb split apart like an old mine that had waited decades to be found. The old, decaying wood that hosted them splintering to create an explosion of tiny Pine shards that flew out in all directions. Within seconds of the bullets causing such a scene, the gate to that ******** dealer's den, peeling paint and all, fell inwards with a loud crash that echoed through the empty, rot-scented halls outside the apartment. The destruction gave away to the inner sanctum of the man's abode, a place where someone might feel safe and comfortable but that was far from the case on this night.
Baxter held up a hand, signalling his Valkyries to linger behind and guard the newly created opening into the flat as he ducked inside, thoughtlessly stepping over the fallen door. In his hands, he carried an old favourite; an axe with a stained wooden handle, its edge glinting while the rest of its head remained as dull as old iron.
"Felix!" he called out, tone calm despite the volume of his shout. He paused and waited for an answer. When there was none, he swung the axe, aiming for nearest thing, which just so happened to be a chair. A chair Baxter was well-acquainted with. The blade hit the back of the chair and the support split in two, toppling to the floor with a clatter. He grinned faintly.
"Come on out! I missed you!"
E A R L I E R . . .
"You shouldn't trouble yourself, really, I can handle this."
Unconvinced. An uneasy smile lifted the corners of Rene's lips. Silence but he didn't dare look to his right. Instead, his stare was fixed on the folio on his lap, open to reveal lines of numbers that made no real sense to anyone but him and his employer. His employer was also the man he was currently avoiding looking at. Ironically enough, the reason was on his lap. Those mysterious numbers that made him swallow when he looked them over. His gaze flickered briefly towards the two women sitting across from them. Dawn was quiet like she always was but Rene managed to catch Mary's attention who gave the Telepath a familiar look that said, 'you know how he gets…' It was a cross between exasperation and submission. Everyone had come to know that if Rene couldn't make their employer see reason, likely no one could.
There was a long stretch of silence that seemed to drag on for minutes.
"There's over a hundred kilos of blow missing, Devin." Baxter spoke up finally as they pulled up to the alley behind the familiar apartment. "Gotta account for that."
-♠-♥-♣-♦-
MERRY ♥
The panic had won out, the body trembling as it rocked in front of the mirror. One hand pressed into the thick dark hair, greasy from days of neglect, gripping at the roots as if the sharp sting to the scalp might make it all feel more real. It didn’t. Merry’s mouth worked soundlessly, the thumb of the free hand tracing against the full lower lip, pressuring into it against. The teeth, she bared them, drawing the lips back and staring. Her fangs had yet to surface, the panic seeming to override the hunger and for that she was grateful.
She’d stripped the shirt at some point, quaking fingers travelling over the torso, tracing the lines of tattoos and watching the skin shiver. It felt like an out of body experience, even though in a way it was quite the opposite.
It was as her hand splayed across an abdomen, a choked noise of dismay leaving her, that the sound of broken entry crashed through her moment. She damn neared jumped out of her skin, back pressing against one of the walls in the cramped bathroom space. Someone had called his name, HIS name. It didn’t sound like they were particularly happy and it made her wonder just what kind of person Felix was. Another crash had Merry muffling a yelp, hand slapping across the mouth to keep it shut, not wanting to alert them. Come out? Yeah, right.
KENDAL
It was very likely that Felix wasn't in. It was, after all, the lair of a scrupulous psychopathic pusher who constantly had young men passing through. It could have very well been that Felix had long since run off to Mexico or some other ******** cop out destination but in the time he'd known the man, Baxter had come to find that Felix Sharpe was no pussy. So if he was hiding within the creaking crevices of the apartment, Kendal Baxter was determined to sniff him out. He walked through the apartment in a measured pace, wintry gaze sliding over every inch of his vicinity.
"One hundred and twenty seven kilos. Nine days." The Blood Paladin spoke in a calm voice though its volume did boom, bouncing off of the walls of the living room. His tone was matter of fact, like he was relaying information, facts even, to a nearby pedestrian. "How good is your math, Sharpe?" he nearly sneered then and his arms swung out again, the blunt side of the axe's head hitting the flat screen of the television propped up on a kitschy wall unit, across from an old, worn leather sofa set. The glass pane shattered on impact, glittering fragments erupting from what was once a pristine surface. "Surely you remember how much a kilo costs." he taunted, inhaling deeply to gather his composure, idly reaching out to grab the monitor by the left side before knocking it off of the stand carelessly. "Or did you forget that along with the oath you took for me?"
