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Language:
English
Series:
Part 2 of The Shitty Week
Stats:
Published:
2015-07-30
Words:
1,217
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
10
Hits:
240

The Time When The First Meeting Occured

Summary:

so, here's the first one.
I should also say, stories aren't connected with each other, even though I kinda tried to keep track on chronology.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Numbers winced and opened his eyes. It was too noisy. Sitting up on a bed, he discovered it was TV. A girl on a screen is talking about the weather, so it’s about 12 in the morning, he assumed. Not only the TV-set was turned on, but also the radio was screaming shrilly. Sounded like 4 Non-blondies. What a nightmare. He rubbed his face and stood up. Still no memories of last night. But, judging by the fact there’s no one else in his bed and his slightly aching jaw, he tried his best to pick somebody up, but failed.

He turned the TV and radio off, but the headache was still there. Shower, a quick look in the mirror. Regret, mixed with disgust. «I really have to stop drinking so much» - he thought, getting out of the bathroom. Glancing at the pack of chips lying on the coffee table, he decided to have glass of water instead. It didn’t help either – his headache became almost unbearable. Falling onto the bed, he silently asked all the existing gods for a mercy, when suddenly the phone rang.

He took his phone from a night table. «Yes? Yeah, in Chicago. Today? Oh God.. When? Okay, I’ll be there.» He stared at the ceiling. Great. Looks like syndicate want to give him another hit. At least, Jergen told him they’ve got “a big surprise” for him.

At 3pm he pulled up near the small building in the outskirts of the city. Numbers slammed the door and looked around, then hurried toward the house.

«Hey, Numbers,» - Jergen greeted him. – «Ready for a gift?»

- If it’s not 25 grands you owe me, you can stop right now.

- Oh, c’mon, it’s way better than money.

- Right. Let’s just make it quick – I’m dying to smoke.

The room they went into, was filled with a broken shit. Dusty floor was littered with old frames, tires, planks and other debrisin and there was a narrow clean path to the couch, standing in the far corner of the room. A tall, athletic man was sitting there. When he saw them, he got up from the couch.

«Numbers, meet your new partner!» - smiled Jergen.

«My new.. okay.»

A guy held out his hand. Sighing, Numbers reluctantly shook it, forcing a smile.

«So, where’re you from?»

But a guy remained silence, looking expectantly at Jergen. So did Numbers.

«Well, actually, there’s one thing I didn’t tell you – he’s deaf» - he told Numbers. A bearded guy stared at him, trying to find out if it’s a joke or what, then turned around and walked away.

«Dude, c’mon, don’t be a jerk» - Jergen said, rushing after him.

Numbers was standing outside with a cigarette.

-          What the fuck are you doing?

-          Same question to you. Is that one of your fucking jokes?

Jergen also took out a cigarette.

«First of all,» - he said. - «It was you, who kept bitching about working alone. This guy is a good fighter. Yes, he’s got some shortcomings, but don’t worry. If he gets shot, you can leave him and go off safely» - he said, flicking ashes. – «And what’s more important, it was Tripoli, who told me to bring him here»

Numbers choked.

-          Really?

-          Do you really think anyone would bother, if the boss didn’t say anything? This deaf guy somehow beat up 5 bulls, who tried to attack Tripoli at the gas station. And even though it seemed like that deaf fella didn’t quite understand how he did it, he impressed Tripoli.

-          I don’t need a disabled guy.

-          I told you, he’s a good fighter..

-          That’s right, he’s a fighter, not a hitman! If he gets shot and he will get shot, as it’s impossible to survive a serious fight without the ability to hear.. I don’t want to be responsible for him and his death.

They went silent. «You won’t» - eventually said Jergen. – «But I think you can spend some time to train him a little bit. You don’t want any conflicts with Tripoli, right? Then take a deaf guy and do your best to train him.»

Numbers sighed and threw a cigarette stub into the snow.

-          It was you, who told a story about your deaf uncle, right?

-          I can hardly remember any signs.

-          I’m sure you will. Now go. I bet he’s tired of waiting. His name is Wrench, by the way. A funny story – he smashed one of the guys with the wren..

But Numbers didn’t listen, trying to figure out what to do next.

 

Wrench didn’t like his new partner at all. Not only did he look like quite a weak person, but also his face made Wrench think, that the only way he could kill someone is by giving him a death stare after which the person he stared at would commit suicide. Judging by the sour face, a guy was quite disappointed. Looks like that cheerful fuck told him about his deafness. When he walked away, Wrench suddenly thought that it might not be so bad. They'll find him someone else. He stretched and sat on the couch with his hands behind his head.

He saw Tripoli on a gas station. I was his second years as a mechanic assistant, when he was asked to check the wheels. While he crouched near the car, 5 guys got out of the car, which was refueling nearby and went to Tripoli and his crew. And then a firefight happened. One of the guys probably thought he’s with Tripoli too, so he tried to shoot him too, but didn’t succeed. And there was it - Wrench once made up a rule, which said 'do not attack anyone until he or she doesn't threaten your life. So, he fought. Fortunately, most of the bullets went into Tripoli’s car and miraculously did not blew the hell out of the whole station.

 

When Numbers and Jergen went back, Wrench stood up again, looking at them gloomily. The bearded guy made an uncertain gesture with his hands.

-          You. Go.

Passing by Jergen, Wrench looked at him, confused. He smiled reassuringly.

-          You’ve got a week to know each other better. – he said loudly. – Have fun!

-          Motherfucker – mumbled Numbers.

 

Numbers decided not to turn on the radio in the car. He glanced at her new partner, who was looking grimly at the road and started the car. They drove to the nearest library, where he took the two sign language dictionaries.

Walking inside the apartment, Numbers pointed on a couch.

-          Sleep. Here.

Wrench shook his head.

Numbers brought beeк anв they sat in the living room, looking at each other.

«Wanna talk?» - Wrench signed.

- Jergen told you kill father. True?

- No. Old fucker got drunk and shot himself with the gun, tight in front of my little sister and me. I just wanted to act cool.

- Don’t understand.

Wrench rolled his eyes. Numbers took a bottle and raised it up.

-          To the friendship!

-          Partnership?

-          What?

-          P-A-R-T-N-E-R-S-H-I-P

-          Whatever..

The clinked bottles.

-          And you? Where are you from?

-          That’s secret information.

Wrench gave him a scowl.

-          My name is N-U-M-B-E-R-S and that’s all you should know. How old are you?

-          28. You?

-           37

-          Aren’t you too old for a hitman?

-          What?

-          Nothing

 

They both lowered their eyes.

«Maybe he’s not that bad» - thought Numbers.

«I am so fucked» - thought Wrench.

Notes:

yay for the first story, dedicated to The Shitty Week.
I believe they were both quite unhappy with the obligation to work together for some time.
I actually had one more page of the story, but as I'm running out of time, I'm unamble to post it right now. so, if anyone is interested, I'll post that bonus-page in a week.

also, even though I have to publish that a little bit earlier, than I was planning - happy b-day to the precious doublenegativemeansyes! :3

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