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“Fuuuuuck,” I groaned, pressing the palms of my hands to my sweat-soaked forehead. “Cant I ever catch a break?”
The deafening silence of an empty bedroom was all that met my exhausted plead. I had been laying in this bed for so long that the sun had hidden behind curtains of bloody sky. The leather of my jacket and pants had grown cold, despite my body feeling feverish and warm. My eyes focused on my hands, which were now in the air above me. They shook. Not much, but a tremor ran through my hands in a way they hadn’t in a long time.
A groan ripped from my throat as I let my hands sink down onto my chest.
This is what you get, I thought, fighting through the haze in my brain. It was like a neverending room of cigarette smoke I had to wade through to form even the simplest of words. All this vigilante shit has caught up to you.
Another groan accompanied me sitting up and looking around. A bare hotel room. All beige, with dark blue curtains and hideous brass fittings everywhere. The TV was cracked and there were suspicious stains across the floor.
“Scatter?” I asked, blinking heavily. Maybe it wasn’t a stain. I closed my eyes and shook my head to try to dispel the smoke in my mind. “Scatter!”
What I previously assumed to be a particularly large stain grunted and shifted ever so slightly. Great to know he's not dead.
I swung myself to the side of the bed where I carefully stepped off the side, expecting carpet wetted with blood. Instead, I found the carpet to be… acceptable. I stood and stretched, and heard my joints creak in unison with the leather I wore. I checked my hair in the reflection of the TV before I ventured to the room’s bathroom where I found a note on the sink.
Frowning, I recognized the handwriting. I snatched the note up and brought it closer like that would change the taunting words and infuriating message. Instead, I flexed my fist and the paper crumpled into a tiny ball, which I then threw onto the floor of the shower from pure rage.
I grabbed my gun from the corner of the countertop and threw open the room’s door.
“God damn you, CeCe. What the fuck is the point of drugging me and dumping me in some random fucking hotel…” I growled as I stormed down the hallway, ready to punch CeCe before she even got a word in.
Throwing open the exit door, I spotted ceCe smoking in front of her car. Annoyance bubbled through me and I continued to walk closer and closer to her as I spoke.
“Hey, asshole. Mind explaining why I woke up in a hotel room with a passed-out monkey on the floor?” I asked forcefully, now barely a foot from Cece. A frown decorated my face but she didn’t seem intimidated by me looming over her. I probably looked shittier than I thought.
CeCe raised an eyebrow at me, obviously unamused by my attempt to intimidate her. Before I could reply with a snarky comment, she blew smoke in my face and laughed. “No, I don’t think I will.”
I sighed, knowing she would just be a pest if I tried to get any answers. I collected myself and asked my next question. “Fine. At least tell me where we are.” I leaned back a bit and crossed my arms. I stared at her while she took another drag from her cigarette and considered her answer.
“Somewhere that doesn’t exist on maps, Elvis. You should know that by now.”