01-24-2018, 05:30 PM
The night was chilly and the street quiet. It had rained earlier and the air smelled of wet asphalt and garbage. Other smells too, but he wasn't exactly in a categorizing mood. The heavy sounds of bass music up the street competed with the shhh of traffic on the road. The Little Kitty was not the classiest place, that was for sure.
Anyway, where was he? Oh yeah. Last two days had been.....crazy. Looked like while he and Alex were hooking up, Nox had gone off and gotten himself in some real trouble. A city block torn up, chunks of rock and concrete and building material and whatever the hell else there was- was that lead spikes?- covered the place. Looked like a fucking war zone.
And Nox had been arrested, along with some pretty boy soldier (the way a couple of the guys had joked) or something. And then both of them just disappeared.
He wasn't sure about the soldier, but he had an idea about Nox. Well, more a suspicion. Not that he was a genius or anything. But it seemed familiar. He remembered a certain padded cell, the prodding of needles, tests. Course he'd also been suffering from the sickness, so for him the memory wasn't all that bad. It had saved him. And the Ascendancy had come to him, taught him to control himself, and put him back out on the streets with something in his record that gave him some sort of pull. Enough that the Cap had pulled him onto Domovoi.
No, not a bad memory for him. But he wasn't Nox. Nox could be a dick. More than one, really. Like a whole bag of dicks. But he was honest. Despite what he'd said to Alex- hey, his head was full of tequila and she was hot and he just wanted to kiss her, what did she expect?- he really did believe the guy's story. He doubted Nox wanted a job in the CCD, or would follow orders or whatever they wanted him to do.
And, of course, nobody told him anything. Pissed him off.
Top it all off, he got a call from Uncle Pol. He'd not seen him in years. To be honest, he didn't know why he was being called. He'd known Pol his whole life- his daughter Olena was Ivan's first kiss, first love, really- but it wasn't like they had any heart to hearts. He was pop's friend.
So why the hell was he calling Ivan and asking him to meet him at 2 in the morning down the street from a seedy strip club? Not like Ivan hadn't been tired or anything.
Bah, he was just being a pissy little bitch. Pol had gone down hard after Olena had been shot, bleeding out in his arms. That was a punch to the gut. They all took it hard. But Pol never climbed back out of the bottle.
He owed him. For pops. For Olena's sake.
Anyway, where was he? Oh yeah. Last two days had been.....crazy. Looked like while he and Alex were hooking up, Nox had gone off and gotten himself in some real trouble. A city block torn up, chunks of rock and concrete and building material and whatever the hell else there was- was that lead spikes?- covered the place. Looked like a fucking war zone.
And Nox had been arrested, along with some pretty boy soldier (the way a couple of the guys had joked) or something. And then both of them just disappeared.
He wasn't sure about the soldier, but he had an idea about Nox. Well, more a suspicion. Not that he was a genius or anything. But it seemed familiar. He remembered a certain padded cell, the prodding of needles, tests. Course he'd also been suffering from the sickness, so for him the memory wasn't all that bad. It had saved him. And the Ascendancy had come to him, taught him to control himself, and put him back out on the streets with something in his record that gave him some sort of pull. Enough that the Cap had pulled him onto Domovoi.
No, not a bad memory for him. But he wasn't Nox. Nox could be a dick. More than one, really. Like a whole bag of dicks. But he was honest. Despite what he'd said to Alex- hey, his head was full of tequila and she was hot and he just wanted to kiss her, what did she expect?- he really did believe the guy's story. He doubted Nox wanted a job in the CCD, or would follow orders or whatever they wanted him to do.
And, of course, nobody told him anything. Pissed him off.
Top it all off, he got a call from Uncle Pol. He'd not seen him in years. To be honest, he didn't know why he was being called. He'd known Pol his whole life- his daughter Olena was Ivan's first kiss, first love, really- but it wasn't like they had any heart to hearts. He was pop's friend.
So why the hell was he calling Ivan and asking him to meet him at 2 in the morning down the street from a seedy strip club? Not like Ivan hadn't been tired or anything.
Bah, he was just being a pissy little bitch. Pol had gone down hard after Olena had been shot, bleeding out in his arms. That was a punch to the gut. They all took it hard. But Pol never climbed back out of the bottle.
He owed him. For pops. For Olena's sake.