Delivery
by Lena (language corrections by Labingi)
Chapter 8
The comm unit beeped no more than five minutes after they came back to the motel room. Daryl jumped to the laptop and, surprisingly, after a few moments nodded at Guy to come over. It was Katze. Guy stirred, seeing the ghost from his past for the first time in months. At last they initiated him into their plan – he listened half-heartedly, too overwhelmed by the sight of the pale face and the memories it brought. There was the good news – Katze had finally managed to get in contact with the Crimelord's men. That meant they had made it in time. That meant that they could go on and tomorrow... tomorrow everything would end.
Yeah, some good news it was.
When all details of the plan were settled, Katze disconnected with a reserved good luck wish.
"See?" Daryl said, switching the comm off, "I told you it will work."
Guy dragged himself to the chair next to the window and slumped down heavily. His high spirits from just an hour ago were now suddenly gone. Katze's call pulled him down to the ground hard and very painfully. It didn't change anything – he told himself. It would have ended tomorrow anyway, this way or another. Still, till just a moment ago he hoped for... something. He didn't know what. Some unexpected outcome. A miracle?
Outside the dusk had only started to fall and there was still enough light to see the shapes of things, but now, seen through the dirty glass, the wild landscape lost its appeal.
He heard Daryl approaching, and a moment later the furniture's shape appeared in his vision. A hand reached out to him, holding a tube of the accelerating salve.
"Use it," Daryl instructed.
Guy obediently took the ointment.
"You know, it's funny to try to heal it knowing that tomorrow they will cut it again," he said, spreading a generous amount over the stitch.
Daryl leaned against the cupboard and studied the mongrel with a careful gaze. Guy put the tube away on the nightstand behind him, leaned back and stared out of the window.
"So it will be over tomorrow," he sighed. "Lovely. Do you know that it might be the last night of my life?"
His guardian frowned and seemed somewhat taken aback. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then stopped himself. Guy could guess what it was. A failed attempt of comfort: Katze will come for you, he will rip you out of the Crimelord's hands.
Yeah, only to give you over to the furious AI a few hours later. Death or death – pick one.
"You're not even trying to say that it will be okay," he observed.
"That would be a lie, wouldn't it? Hey, at least you know that thanks to you they will probably nail the Crimelord."
Guy sighed and slumped his head. It was a nice thought, he tried to convince himself. Only right now, for once, he was feeling egoistic. And looking at it egoistically, he didn't give a damn. Daryl stayed where he was, still standing in front of him, and that, of all things, comforted him a little. They were silent, there was nothing to say, but at least he wasn't alone.
He didn't know how much time had passed; he must have been lost in his thoughts, because he didn't notice the movement, but suddenly he felt a delicate touch on his head. As impossible as it was, Daryl was stroking his hair! It wasn't just a fleeting caress. The hand lingered there, not intending to pull back, and when it moved after a while, it was not to leave – it just slid down to his shoulder. Guy didn't try to stop himself when his own hand rose and took Daryl's. He brought it to his face, stroked it against his cheek. He felt a startled pull then, but tightened his grip, not letting go.
"Guy..."
"Please, allow me," he muttered.
And the resistance eased, little by little.
He needed it. He suddenly realized how hungry he was for human closeness. For intimacy – of any kind. On impulse, he pulled by the hand to force the furniture to come closer, and when Daryl took a reluctant step ahead, Guy literally lunged at him, throwing his arms around the slim waist, squeezing his head into the firm stomach.
"Guy..." Daryl tried again, but Guy didn't react to this weak protest. The dealer made another meager effort to get away, but then gave in and stayed in place, letting his prisoner hold him.
It was a relief, to be close like that. It was now much more intense than the cuddle they had shared outside. And he wanted to stay like this. As long as possible. Preferably forever.
He felt convulsive spasms shaking his chest. They weren't exactly sobs, he wasn't crying; these were just his nerves getting loose, unable to hold him in one piece anymore. But it was good, to let himself fall apart like this; sort of cleansing, removing the tension he hadn't even been aware of.
Daryl stood stiff in his embrace for a while, arms frozen in mid air awkwardly, as if he didn't know what to do about them. Finally, he let them relax and hesitantly rested them on Guy's back.
"Hey," he murmured reassuringly. "Calm down. Calm down."
"I don't want to die," Guy moaned.
"I know." And the hand was stroking his hair again.
He let himself be engulfed by that, take comfort from the contact to an extent that was probably improper. Somehow, during those few days Daryl, even growling and snapping at him, had become close to him, very close. It wasn't because of the forced companionship, no, it was something more. Daryl brought a completely new quality to his life: relief and peace – something no one else could bring. And because of that he became... special. In a way, Guy wanted to stay alive to be able to spend more time with him. It was a scary thought. Was he falling in love? Now?
Of course, the fact that his guardian was also strikingly attractive just added to all this.
Naturally Guy knew that Daryl didn't share his sentiments. He had just barely started to tolerate him. Thus he truly stunned himself when at some moment he heard himself saying:
"Daryl, be with me tonight."
The body beside him shifted a little. "What do you mean by be with me?"
He raised his head to meet Daryl's gaze. Indeed, what did he mean? He couldn't possibly... or could he? Oh crap, he did. He closed his eyes and suddenly wished to bump his head against something hard. What an idiot he was!
Daryl apparently read his reaction correctly, because he jumped away in one moment, pushing Guy forcefully away, leaving his arms frustratingly empty.
"What the fuck...?!" he cried, his voice breaking. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
Guy groaned inwardly. Damn, he ruined everything. Like always.
"I didn't think at all. It just, sort of, slipped out. Sorry."
The furniture was standing a few feet away, positioned as if he was ready to attack him. His face was twisted with a mix of disgust and disappointment.
"Well, you better think before you open your mouth next time."
Guy breathed heavily and let his elbows fall on his knees. He hid his face in his hands, shook his head. Okay, so he was a moron who spoke before he thought. But what was the big deal? Was his stupid offer a reason to get mad?
"Is it such a bad thing, after all?" he muttered. "That I like you? That I find you attractive? That I want to be with you this one night? No more than an hour ago you were complaining that nobody wanted you, you assured me that you don't mind me liking you. Couldn't you just say 'no thank you' and take it as a compliment, instead of screaming at me?"
There was no answer. Not even a sound from where Daryl stood. So Guy continued speaking.
"Since Riki, there's been nobody important in my life. Nobody special, as you put it. And I miss it. I miss closeness. Sure, I got laid a couple of times but none of that mattered. These were just one night stands to get some physical satiation. It meant nothing. I miss a real thing."
"There's no real thing between us," Daryl said with a bitter snort.
"It would be real for me." Guy assured.
Silence. Nothing. He ventured another glance. And was surprised to see that Daryl's face changed. Its lines smoothed and anger faded, although it was still full of distrust. And there was also something else – the furniture looked as if he were distressed, almost as if he wanted to cry. And suddenly, in some flash of insight, Guy understood.
What you need is a good fuck.
He really needed it. He wanted it, and was desperately fighting the craving because he thought it was wrong. And because he was determined to remain the cool, emotionless furniture even if it pained him. To continue to hurt, to be able to blame the world for his misery. Thus the anger. But at the same time it distressed him that he was rejecting the best opportunity he probably had in years. If not ever.
Guy got up from the chair and moved towards the other man. Daryl took another two steps back, but then stopped, having bumped against the wall.
"Don't come over," he warned in a menacing voice, but Guy didn't listen. Really, in his position what could scare him? Daryl was probably a well-trained fighter. In any case, he could kick Guy's ass. And so what?
But Daryl didn't try to kick his ass, even though Guy was already just a step away from him. The mongrel raised his arm and carefully brought it to the furniture's face. It was angrily snapped out of the way by Daryl's hand, the dealer's hazel eyes boring into Guy defiantly. Unperturbed, Guy tried again.
"Please," he whispered.
To his surprise, this time Daryl didn't try to hit him, just turned his head away. Perplexed, Guy reached for his guardian's cheek and stroked it delicately. Daryl went stiff, as if he was made of stone, as if the contact was highly disgusting to him. Guy wasn't fooled. He was positive that if he moved back now, Daryl would be disappointed.
The dealer's cheek was surprisingly soft, so nice against the skin of his palm. Guy reveled in the sensation.
"If this is the last night of my life," he said slowly, "shouldn't I be granted some comfort? Isn't it the privilege of all convicts? You know, favourite dish, last wish. Please, do it for me. And if you don't want to do it for me, let me do it for you."
Daryl's gaze shifted abruptly at the last words, focusing at Guy. His jaw trembled.
"W-what?"
"Don't lie to yourself. You know what I'm talking about."
His guardian's eyes were almost terrified. He shook his head nervously.
"I... I can't."
"Why?"
"Because. I am the boss here. If I let you do it, I'll give you the upper hand. I'll become vulnerable. I can't allow it."
"Become vulnerable," Guy prompted him. "Trust me. Let me show you that I deserve your trust."
Daryl shook his head fiercely, but it was clear that as much as he wanted to argue, he didn't have it in him. Guy leaned in, and cupping his side-turned face in one hand, kissed his cheek. Then slowly, overcoming the meagre resistance, turned Daryl's head towards himself and gently brushed his lips.
Daryl's lips didn't protest. He didn't answer, but let himself be kissed.
"I will disappoint you," he mumbled when Guy pulled back. It sounded helpless.
"No, you won't."
"You don't know what you're saying. You don't know how furniture are made. I can't climax, Guy, I'm physically unable to come."
Guy combed his fingers through the chestnut chair, reveling in its soft, silky feel on his hand. The revelation strangely didn't affect him.
"Okay, but now you told me and I am prepared for it. I can't be disappointed."
He leaned in again and again found the lips. Cupping Daryl's face in both hands now, he continued to kiss him slowly, softly, not to appear too persistent. The lips were soft and compliant, but still didn't return the caress. Guy wasn't discouraged, he was determined to be patient. He could be the most patient lover in the world if he had to.
And Daryl just couldn't resist any longer. The temptation was too strong, the caress too sweet. The craving was clenching his throat. It's wrong, he told himself. I don't feel anything for him. I hate him, he killed my friend. I'm not even attracted to him. But all he could see in his mind was Guy's lovely smile, all he could remember was the comforting warmth of the mongrel's body when they embraced. He wanted, needed more of it. He felt his hands slowly rise and find their place on Guy's sides, he felt his lips start to move in unison with Guy's. He could not stop himself.
Guy's hands were again stroking his hair and face. That in itself was enough to make him feel... cherished, valued. It was enough to make him tremble. Or even want to cry.
"Will you trust me?" the youth asked, breaking the kiss.
Daryl swallowed and nodded his head.
"Alright."
When Guy's hands slipped under his shirt and touched his naked stomach, Daryl's muscles contracted, making him twitch as if he were electrocuted. Wherever the mongrel's fingertips brushed his skin when they pulled the shirt up, they were leaving long trails of shivers. Daryl had no idea mere touch could be so electrifying. He had no idea deprivation would make him so sensitive.
He liked how Guy looked at him, how he seemed to admire his body, tracing its lines with those hot fingers slowly, adoringly. He liked what he saw as well. Guy was surprisingly well-built for a slum mongrel – muscled, proportional, his skin so soft that many pets would envy it.
They fell on the bed in just their pants. Eyes closed, Daryl reveled in the world of new sensations. The feel of skin against his skin, the feel of kisses on his face, and neck, and shoulders, the feel of the hard erection pressed against his abdomen... He wasn't doing much himself, he probably should, but he was too dazed for it. And perhaps... he wanted to give in like that.
Before he realized, the last part of his clothes was pulled down off his hips... and then Guy stopped.
"Oh."
It made Daryl open his eyes. Guy was staring at him, at this part of him. He felt an opulent blush creeping up his cheeks. The mongrel noticed his gaze and hurried with explanation.
"Um, sorry. I thought they cut off something else."
"Well no, they cut this," Daryl answered reluctantly.
"But... if they cut this... I mean if they leave your balls, shouldn't you be able to climax just like normal guys? I mean – you have hormones and all."
The last thing Daryl wanted to do right now was discuss this. Still, he guessed Guy deserved some explanation. He forced himself to answer, overcoming the heavy embarrassment.
"If they simply cut us, yes. But that's something more. They have a special technology for this. They leave our balls, but they mutate them. We don't produce sperm, we can't come and we have hardly any sex drive because of that."
"Oh. Can't it be fixed somehow?"
"That's the thing. It's basically impossible to fix. Even if I have restored what they cut off, it would be useless." Daryl fidgeted impatiently in Guy's arms. "Listen, if I'm disgusting to you..."
"What? No! Not at all!" The mongrel shook his head fervently. "How could you be disgusting? You're so... beautiful. I'm simply curious. What if I touch you there? Do you react in any way? I mean... do you feel pleasure?"
"Some pleasure, yeah, I guess. So they say."
"Good," Guy smiled softly and once again lowered himself to the kiss. At first sulky after the exchange, Daryl eventually gave in, his embarrassment fading with the growing heat of the caress. His eyelids slid close again and he resigned himself to the sweet sensations once more.
He was sure it wasn't the best sex Guy had had in his life – Riki was undoubtedly an excellent lover – but somehow he could sense the other youth's sincere satisfaction. Somehow, as impossible as it was, Guy seemed to really like it.
"Listen," the mongrel whispered at some point, "if you want us to... if you still want me to – you know, you'll need to turn. It's easier this way. For the first timers."
Daryl thought about it. Turning would mean giving his control even more, it would mean losing completely. And... he didn't give a damn, he was willing to lose it. He nodded his head and turned. Guy was immediately stroking his back, kissing the nape of his neck. He reached for the nightstand and started preparing Daryl with something he'd found there.
"Is that what I think it is?" the dealer muttered into the pillow.
"Don't worry, there's still more than enough for me."
Daryl moaned and Guy snickered lightly, shifting above him.
He entered Daryl slowly, carefully. The penetration brought some pain, but not much and it subsided quickly. Daryl closed his eyes again and focused his mind on the sensation of being filled, on Guy's rhythmical movements within him, on the awareness of being fucked. There was indeed some pleasure when the mongrel's shaft hit his prostate now and again, but not much either and he knew it wouldn't take him far. This part undoubtedly was for Guy, but at least he could enjoy the fact.
It didn't last long. Guy came quickly and quite convulsively, his pants mixed with sobs, reminding Daryl that their sex was in fact an act of desperation.
When he was done, he collapsed on Daryl, clutching to him tightly.
"I'm sorry. It shouldn't have been so fast. I just... I just..."
"It's okay. I know."
It took the youth a few more minutes to calm down. The panting quieted and changed into regular breathing. He slid down to the mattress, loosening his embrace, but not letting go. Daryl turned to his side to face him. Their gazes met, and Guy's lips curled in a weak smile.
"Sorry I couldn't give you more. I guess the first time should be more spectacular."
"Perhaps if you stood on your head and waggled your legs it would be more spectacular. Otherwise—" he finished the sentence wish a shake of head.
That actually made Guy chuckle a little, even if somewhat bitterly.
"So how are you feeling as not a virgin?"
Daryl shrugged. How did he feel? He didn't know. Strange.
"I guess it still didn't get through to me. I'll have to sleep on it." He brushed a strand of damp hair from Guy's forehead. "And how are you? Better?"
Guy sighed. "If a man in my position can feel better at all, then yes, I guess I'm better."
The night had already taken the full reign outside, and anyway neither of them felt like getting up and continuing the evening. So they just wrapped themselves in a blanket and cuddled to each other. Daryl was glad that Guy didn't let go of him – he wanted to stay in the embrace. He turned to his other side and the mongrel held him from behind. It was nice to feel the soft, warm body beside him. The body you could press yourself into, the body that offered comfort and a feeling of safety.
He didn't regret what happened – he realized with certain surprise. As much as stupid and desperate, and clumsy it was, he didn't have the slightest regret.
"By the way," Guy offered offhandedly, "shouldn't you cuff me to the bed for the night?"
Daryl frowned, suddenly surprised at the suggestion. And at the next instant surprised at his own surprise. Indeed, shouldn't he?
"Probably I should," he admitted. He just completely didn't feel like doing it. The idea, right now, just didn't feel right.
"I won't escape," Guy assured him.
Daryl closed his eyes and sighed. An utterly inappropriate thought flashed in his mind. That perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if Guy did escape. If it could save his life... He suppressed the thought immediately.
"Then I won't cuff you," he muttered and pressed himself stronger to his prisoner's chest.
The morning sun fell in through the windows, making the room a playground for light and shadow. In this light Raoul was watching Katze. He had woken up at sunrise and, instead of staying in bed, got up and dressed just to sit in the chair beside the bed and gaze at the sleeping man in awe. He wasn't sure how much time he'd spent like that, but he knew he could sit and just stare for hours. The picture was perfect, made him short of breath.
He sat still. He sat silent, not wanting to break the magic of the moment.
Until finally, at some point, Katze opened his eyes. He noticed Raoul. He looked up, only minimally moving his head. He smiled. And then his lips parted and a quiet voice came out.
"I love you."
And it was so simple, so easy, so natural that Raoul could not doubt for a single moment that it was true. But just another moment Katze was averting his gaze, confused and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he muttered. "Please forget it."
It all happened so fast that the Blondie didn't have time to become perplexed, his heart didn't have time to start pounding like crazy... and only now did he feel the wave of shock that was beginning to pour over him with its overwhelming power. Katze had just said that he loved him!
He swallowed hard. Could it be true?
Deep inside he knew that in spite of all odds... yes, it was.
He shook his head fervently. He could not allow this to escape him.
"No," he said quickly. "No, I don't want to forget that. I... Katze... you've just... oh, Jupiter!" Before he realized what he was doing, he was on his knees, on the floor, beside the bed, and was catching Katze's hands with hasty excitement. He found Katze's gaze. "No, why would I want to forget something like this?"
The mongrel stared back at him.
"Because—you are a Blondie. You don't love. And you don't need anybody to love you."
Raoul felt a little wince rippling his face. "Really, Katze. Do you really believe that? After all we've been through? After Iason?"
"Especially after Iason. You should know better than to copy his mistakes. You do know better."
"Oh, screw mistakes. You don't have any ex-lover who will chase me and kill me just to get you back, do you?" Katze shook his head, slightly taken aback. "See? No," Raoul tightened his hands around Katze's, "I never, ever, want to forget what you said here. I want to keep it in my mind. Always. And that's because I love you too."
That was true, he realized with sudden clarity. He was totally, crazily in love with his red-haired mongrel. It was time to finally admit it.
The dealer was staring at him wide-eyed. He looked almost scared.
"Raoul... sex is one thing. Even fascination, camaraderie... Love is something entirely different. You surely don't mean..."
"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."
For a few moments Katze was still trying to resist it. But Raoul's confirmation was so firm. It made him want to give in, to believe. Because, in truth, he wanted Raoul to love him, and he wanted to hear it. In spite of all rules. In spite of Iason and past tragedies. Everything was changing; he had to come to terms with that.
He heaved a sigh and did give in. It was a relief.
"I think I've loved you for quite a while," he allowed. "I just didn't realize my feelings until now."
"I think I've been realizing my feelings for quite a while," Raoul countered. "I just never really gave it a thought."
There was a smile curling the Blondie's lips. Katze answered it with his own.
"Well, then we are officially screwed."
"Oh, I've seen worse."
Still kneeling beside the bed, Raoul laid his head on Katze's shoulder. He suddenly felt light and happy like never before. He felt... complete. He traced his finger playfully along the dealer's arm, feeling Katze's hand combing through his hair.
"What time is it, anyway?" he heard the redhead's voice.
"Should be around seven."
"Early. Why are you up so early?"
"I wanted to watch you in the sunrise."
"Crazy Blondie."
At the end of the arm, encircling the slim wrist, was still his furniture tag, locked there permanently. It had been there for so long that Raoul practically no longer noticed it. He used to enjoy the thought that Katze was wearing it, it thrilled him – a tangible evidence that the dealer belonged to him, was inferior to him, a property. Now it suddenly struck him as wrong. The thought that Katze might be a property or inferior evoked his inner protest.
He ran his finger under the tag's edge, hooked it against the flash-warmed metal and levered it up delicately.
"I want to take it off," he said.
He felt a slight stir of the body underneath him and the hand caressing his hair stilled. He raised his head again to look at Katze. The redhead was staring at him with a surprised frown.
"The tag? Why?"
"I don't want you to be subjected to me, I don't want you to be dependent. I want you to be with me, not to belong to me. Not anymore."
"Oh." But that simple answer lacked the thrill of enthusiasm. Instead, Katze lowered his perplexed gaze to the tag as well.
"What is it?" Raoul asked.
Katze thought about it. Why wasn't he excited about Raoul's idea? Why did he suddenly feel saddened by it? Well, he didn't need to go too deep to find the answer. He knew why. What an irony.
"I don't want you to take it off," he whispered. "I want to belong to you."
The Blondie shook his head, not understanding. Katze decided he had enough lying, he lifted himself on his elbows and sat, leaning against the pillow. He was perhaps too awake by now.
"Just like you, elites, get turned on by marking your pets with rings and collars, pets oftentimes get turned on by wearing those things. There's this perverse sense of satisfaction – to be marked by someone, to feel that you belong to someone."
Raoul tilted his head and studied him with amused skepticism.
"Don't tell me that it applies to you."
Katze snorted. "Raoul, I happily wore Iason's tag for years. I guess it partly comes with the training – pet training, or furniture training for that matter."
Raoul rose from his knees and sat on the bed next to Katze. He took the tagged hand, put it on his lap, examined it. Katze allowed it to lie there limply. It made Raoul's heart beat faster.
"You want me to leave this on," he said slowly.
"Yes."
"And you want me to actually leave you in furniture registers?"
There was a moment of hesitation. Then:
"That's the only way this tag has a meaning."
Raoul gulped. Something was building up in his abdomen. He got a grip on himself.
"Katze, this is crazy. I was just going to offer you full citizen rights the moment we come back to Tanagura."
"Screw citizen rights; I never really needed them."
He played with the hand some more. Stroked it, brushed the inside, all the way to the fingertips. He had to admit it – the bracelet looked good on the dealer's wrist; it fit there, with the whole gravity of its meaning. And if Katze wanted it, it didn't seem so wrong anymore. In fact, if Katze wanted it, Raoul could still be aroused by him wearing the damned thing. No, he was aroused by that.
I am a pervert, he told himself. But then, he knew it wasn't that. The fact was that he simply was a Blondie, and he had been trained as well.
"Let's do it this way," he offered. "I will leave this on. And I won't delete you from the registers. So you will still, formally, belong to me. But if you ever change your mind, just come to me and tell me – demand! – to free you, and I will do it the second you utter those words. Alright?"
Katze nodded his head. It suited him.
"Alright."
"Very well, and now come," Raoul leaned in, unable to suppress his arousal any longer. "I'm going to take what is mine to seal our deal."
"You're going to take what is yours because I just got you turned on beyond reason," Katze corrected.
The Blondie smirked, stroking his cheek and brushing away the veil of red hair. "Oh yeah, that too."
Using his superhuman strength, he easily pushed the thin body back flat on the mattress, and meeting no protest crushed the redhead's lips with possessive kiss.
If only the morning could never come. If only he could stay in bed, in the cozy darkness, with this cozy body next to him, forever.
But the morning was in full bloom, and even persistent lying in bed could not chase it away.
Daryl was still beside him – awake and silent. At some point at night they had changed their arrangements and now the dealer was holding Guy, positively digging into him with his arms. Guy didn't mind, it was comforting; he wouldn't mind even if those arms were choking him. He stared out of the window with unseeing eyes, thinking that in a few minutes he should reach for his phone and call the Crimelord. He was totally unable to force himself to make this move.
Until finally, at some moment, his phone rang.
He made himself reach for it after all. He looked at the number and winced – he remembered the sequence.
"It's him," he said to Daryl.
His guardian stiffened a little, and then, before Guy hit the answer button he grabbed his wrist.
"Don't tell him that you escaped me. Just say that you'll be there, nothing more."
Guy glanced at him, confused. "Huh? But Katze..."
"Screw Katze. Just do as I say. I know what I'm doing."
The mongrel blinked a few times, not getting anything, but Daryl's suddenly firm face told him that there was no room for argument. So he just nodded and pressed his finger to the key.
"Guy!" the Climelord's voice was cheerful, it sounded as if the man was saying hello to an old friend. It made Guy's guts twist with rage. "Well, how are we? At what time can I expect you?"
Guy took a breath to calm down then spoke in a voice that sounded almost mechanical.
"Three o'clock, not earlier. But I'll be there. Get the guys ready. I want to see them all in one piece before I give myself to you. Got it?"
That actually made the Crimelord laugh. Guy wanted to rip out his heart.
"Very well, my dear. I can't wait to finally meet you."
For a second Guy was looking for a good finishing line, but was unable to find one. 'See you' simply didn't fit, threats and warnings in his position seemed stupid, and he wasn't up to any witty retort. So he just disconnected and angrily tossed the phone to the nightstand. At least this way he managed to avoid any possible questions about his guardian.
"Done," he murmured to Daryl.
The furniture said nothing, he just clung to him even tighter and pressed his face to Guy's shoulder.
They were at the spot at 1 p.m. to make sure they would make it before the other party. They left the car on the road to be seen, and went to examine the warehouse. They had to know its layout to be able to work out their plan.
It was a small, simple building, whose metal walls gave it the look of a tin. The main entrance – big double door – looked out at the road, and inside there was a single storage space. There were still some old rotten boxes scattered all around the room. And that was all.
"The faster we do it, we lesser chance for a slip," Katze said. "Just shoot them in the back, right away, before they even notice you."
"That's not too elegant," Raoul observed, wrinkling his nose.
"No, but it's effective. Now, let's find a place for you."
It was the business-like, bossy Katze again. Raoul was glad to see that nothing had changed in that respect after this morning.
Five minutes later everything was settled. Now all they could do was wait. In their stressed state of mind time stretched terribly. Minutes flowed past as if they were hours. Raoul remained inside for most of the time. Katze went out to check the road every now and then. It seemed eternity until finally a few minutes before eleven the dust on the road on the west horizon was stirred up, announcing an approaching car.
"It must be them," Katze said, coming back inside. "Hide."
Without a word Raoul hid behind one of the boxes sitting in a strategic spot near the entrance. They left the door wide open and Katze stood in front of it, a few meters inside – just enough to make their rendezvous come in.
They were silent. They waited.
Finally the hum of the stopping car could be heard outside, and just after that two quiet slams of the door. A second later two young men appeared in the entrance. Katze stifled a hiss of excitement at seeing the newcomers. Damn, they were lucky. But then, it wasn't so unexpected.
The men came inside.
"Where is your friend?" the younger one asked in an arrogant voice.
Katze pointed with his chin at the back door – they had opened it as well.
"He went to piss. Hoped he'd make it before you got your asses outta the car. He'll be here in a sec."
A distrustful expression on their faces showed him that they didn't quite believe him and chose to remain suspicious. They didn't have a chance to make any use of that, as just at that instant Raoul came into the scene. He soundlessly rose from behind the box and shot twice. The shots didn't have to be perfect; it was enough for the tranquilizer darts to reach the Crimelord's men, even if they hit leg or arm. And since the range was close, there was practically no chance that he would miss.
Another second later the goons simultaneously fell to the ground. They were still conscious, had about thirty seconds before anaesthetic would put them to sleep for good.
Raoul stepped out from behind the box and approached them. He stopped over them, looking down. The older one turned to look at him, his disbelief melting in growing drowsiness.
"Well, well, look who we have here. Mane and Junior, am I correct?"
"What the fu..." Mane slurred, but apparently was unable to articulate any more than that. The Blondie grinned at him nastily.
"So stupid to fall into such a simple trap, isn't it? You should always watch your back, one particularly clever mongrel once told me that."
And then it was over. The bodies at their feet slackened completely.
They immobilized their captives very thoroughly – tying them tightly: hands and ankles, and donning a gag and a tape to each of them. When they were done, they got up and examined their work.
"That was easy," Raoul commented.
"Sure. They didn't expect it. And we are damn lucky. Considering who we have, we can be pretty sure that the Crimelord will agree to the trade."
He quickly produced his phone and chose the number.
"Daryl, we've got them. Now your turn."
He disconnected just as quickly. "Well," he murmured, "now we wait."
Raoul nodded and came up to one of the smaller boxes. He seated himself on it, absentmindedly. Katze had to smile seeing how the Blondie had abandoned his aristocratic habits, not even troubling to brush off the dust. He joined him on the box and reached for his smokes with the feeling of the well-accomplished task. For a while they sat in silence, staring at their captives.
"By the way," he offered offhandedly. "I never told you that. About watching your back."
Raoul sent him a mischievous grin. "I wasn't talking about you."
Katze opened his mouth to ask about whom then, but then he remembered. Their raid at Kano's labs a few months back. Viper shooting Raoul in the back, and Riki saving the Blondie's life by kicking him down to the ground. 'Always watch your back, Blondie. Not even you are laser-proof.' Riki. He was talking about Riki.
"Particularly clever?"
"Yeah, wasn't he?"
Katze had to smile again. Well, well. Who would have thought.
The Citadel grew in the middle of the desert, surrounded by miles of empty space, rising from the ground like a huge, lone mountain. Round at the base, with tall metal walls, it looked a little bit like a castle, a little bit like... Dana Bahn. Guy stared at it from the car, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist, fearing that if he let go, he would crack up. The car stood on the edge of the high cliff, a mile or so away from their destination. The spot gave them a good view on the structure beneath, that was why Daryl had chosen to stop here.
"Call them," the dealer instructed, producing binoculars from the locker in the dashboard.
Guy reached for his phone and chose the number. It was answered before the tone even sounded.
"Your friends are waiting," the Crimelord said without preamble. "Where do you want them?"
Guy breathed with reluctant relief that he didn't have to delve into needless discussions. At least the bastard was a matter-of-fact man.
"South gate. Walk them outside, I want to see them first."
"And where are you?"
"Close enough. My guys first."
After a short pause that could be momentary hesitation the Crimelord said, "Alright." Then his voice sounded muffled, as if he turned away from the speaker, and Guy heard a few sharply barked commands. After a minute he was back. "They'll be there in a moment. I expect you to show up no more than five minutes from that point. Otherwise we'll start killing them. One at a time, to keep you motivated."
At this moment one wing of the high gate slid open and a few men scattered out of it. Guy counted nine – that meant six guards. Six heavy-armed guards for their three helpless hostages. Really...
Daryl handed him the binoculars and the mongrel put them to his eyes. After a minute of sweeping the gray ground, he found the walls of the Citadel, and then the gate.
His breath hitched when he saw them... all three, alive and from what it seemed untouched. They were standing in the middle of the group, with their hands up and six guns pointed at their heads. They were looking around with scared eyes, apparently not knowing what was going on.
"Hey, Crimelord," he offered purely out of spite, "you need six big men with guns for those poor little jerks? What kind of losers do you hire?"
"Four minutes, Guy. Instead of smart-assing, you'd better move now."
So Guy just swore inwardly and disconnected.
"Are they okay?"
"So it seems."
"Good." Daryl started the engine. "Let's go."
Guy closed in on himself again, while the car pulled from the place. There was a steep road some hundred yards from the spot, and the vehicle hovered down to the plain below slowly. By now they must have been spotted, so Guy supposed his friends were safe.
When they reached the flat ground, Daryl produced his cell phone and holding the wheel with one hand, busied himself with tapping a text message on the keyboard. Guy watched him curiously. They should stop somewhere about now, Daryl should hide so as not to be noticed and Guy should take the wheel. Somehow the furniture seemed completely unmindful of this little issue.
Having finished writing, Daryl put the phone on the dashboard and turned to Guy.
"Your phone."
The youth blinked with surprise. He didn't remember this part of the plan.
"What are you up to?"
"Your phone, Guy," Daryl stressed in a commanding tone, holding his hand out, and Guy didn't have the power to argue with him. Without a word, he handed his mobile to the castrate. He observed the nimble fingers quickly tapping the little keys, and before he could think what it meant, Daryl had the phone at his ear.
"Hello, Mr. Moreno, my name is Daryl. I am Guy's guardian."
Guy positively jumped up in his seat, hearing the cold, level voice of the furniture.
"What the fuck—!" he yelled and heard his own reaction reflected by the Crimelord, coming from the receiver. He wanted to tear the phone from Daryl's hand, but the dealer's arm shot up, letting go of the steering wheel, and grabbed his wrist strongly. The man gave him a sharp look and hissed at him in a clear sign to shut up and stay put. When he spoke again, his voice wasn't even minimally disrupted:
"Please, calm down, Mr. Moreno, this is no trick. Let me explain. Guy tried to escape me this night, but I caught him and forced him to tell me what's going on. That's how I found out. Now, let me make it clear – if I give him over to you, I am screwed. I can say goodbye to my work, perhaps even to my life. So obviously, I don't intend to do so. If I simply ignore his pleas, those three guys will die... which undoubtedly is a more convenient prospect for me, if not for the fact that I can see yet another option, and for me it seems best: I come in with Guy and join your team."
They were already opposite the gate, some fifty yards away from it. Daryl stopped the car, turning its side to the entrance, while listening to something that was being said to him.
"I'm not being ridiculous. I'm not some guy from the street. I am a black market dealer, Mr. Moreno, and a good one. I have experience, which I can prove to you if you give me a chance. I assure you I would be a good acquisition for your team. And for me it is a great opportunity. So let me put it this way: either we come in together, or we don't come in at all."
For a moment he was silent. Guy heard some shreds of words from the speaker. "...letting you in... threat." Something like that. Daryl chuckled.
"And what threat can a single man pose to this heavy-armed fortress with the army of your men? The only one who is risking anything here is me, and you know it."
This time the silence lasted longer and Guy didn't hear anything from the other side. He guessed that the Crimelord was considering the offer. Finally there was the rustle of an answer, the words too quiet for him to discern, but they made Daryl smile, so it could only mean one thing.
"Of course. Tell your men to come over to us with the hostages. We'll make the exchange here – it will be the safest way for both sides. The guys will take the car to go back to the city, we'll stay. ... Naturally. Thank you. See you in a minute then." With that he disconnected.
"What the hell was that?!" Guy positively shrieked when the dealer put the phone away.
Daryl turned to him, his expression so serious that it completely didn't match the nonchalant tone he was using just a moment ago.
"I am not letting you go alone," he said and in one instant Guy understood how wrongly he had judged Daryl's intentions. In the same instant he felt moved, ridiculously relieved... and guilty.
"This is crazy. Don't do it, Daryl. You'll get yourself killed ."
That brought a minimal smile on Daryl's lips. "Oh, I think I'll make it somehow. And perhaps I'll be able to save your life." He glanced towards the Citadel. There was some commotion among the guards; apparently they had already gotten the message. "Let's go," he said decisively. "Get outta the car. But stay hidden behind it."
"Daryl..."
"Not a word," the dealer snapped. "Just do it."
So Guy just sighed and got out. Before following him, Daryl reached to his cell phone and pressed the connect button. Then he moved over to the passenger seat, leaving the mobile on the dashboard and got out through the same door as Guy.
Shielded by the car's body up to their necks, they were for now fairly safe. Over the roof Guy could see the group approaching. His men approaching, outside the Citadel, almost safe. His heart beat faster and at that instant he felt that it was worth it. For a moment he forgot about fear and felt happy that he actually did it.
They stopped a few steps before the car. Some of the guns turned now to Daryl and Guy.
"Guy, what are you doing here, man?" exclaimed Toma, the most voicy of the three. "Go home, they'll kill ya!"
Guy opened his mouth to answer him, but was cut-off by one of the guards.
"Shut up, no talking! You two, step away from the car. Hands up!"
"Guy, buddy, what the hell is going on here?" It was Alex this time.
"I said shut up!" the guard barked and the young man immediately fell silent.
Having no other option, Guy and Daryl withdrew from the proximity of the car, partially exposing themselves, and held their hands in the air. The guards pushed their hostages towards the vehicle none too gently.
"Get in and get lost," another one commanded. "You're free now."
Casting perplexed glances between their captors and Guy, the young men reluctantly came over to the car. Guy gave them a meaningful look, trying to encourage them.
"Just go," he hissed, making one or two guns stir up in his direction threateningly.
Still confused and unsure, they got inside eventually and started the engine. Before the car moved from the place, Guy caught Kai's and Alex's gaze through the glass and followed them with his eyes, bidding them a silent farewell. And then his friends were gone, the car changing into a dwindling spot on the desert, and he was left at the mercy of the predators. But he was not alone. More intensively than even last night, he felt Daryl's presence beside him, and it was a solace.
The guards jumped up to them like a pack of wolves. Two of them went on to search them. On Guy they naturally found nothing; the man that took Daryl was more successful and skillfully stripped the dealer of whatever weapon he had.
Unarmed and surrounded by six guards, they moved towards the looming seat of the Crimelord.
Katze kept his phone at the ready. It was almost 3 o'clock, the time when he expected a call from Daryl, if everything went according to the plan. Thus he was positively clutching the mobile in his hand when it beeped, announcing the incoming text.
Automatically, he clicked to open it, surprised to see Daryl's number as a sender – he waited for a phone call, not a text... and no less than jumped to his feet when he read the message.
"What? That idiot! I'm gonna kill him."
Raoul, who was pacing the warehouse back and forth with a somewhat bored expression, stopped and looked up.
"What is it?"
Katze just shook his head and threw the phone to the Blondie. "See for yourself."
The message said: 'Katze, I'm coming in with Guy. Right now. I don't want to let him outta my sight. I told C that I want to join him. Make your move quickly, cause I don't think I'll be able to keep it up for long. Sorry. I know what u think. U can kick my ass later. D.'