4. Tide
Date: 4-24-2024
Time: 1236
I had one plan: Come over here, get a peek into what’s happening, and leave.
As usual, our idiot prisoner didn’t give the answers I wanted, and he had to be… disposed of. Unlike usual, there were no Bay members near our base—typically you can find one or two lurking beyond the walls, so I needed to take matters into my own hands. I would’ve sent Sam to do this, but I thought it’d be a nice, brief, holiday. Two birds, one stone and all that.
I pull the cigar from my pocket, flicking at the flint of my lighter as I take off down the pavement of the bustling place she calls home. It reminds me of Manchester; out-of-place skyscrapers and the most idiotic drivers.
My nerves are on edge, not from being in enemy territory, but from the idea of her walking in the same area as I am. As I take a drag, I search my jeans for my wallet—I couldn’t just leave her picture at the base. With the office getting cleaned regularly, the chance of it being thrown away or being found… no. It wouldn’t do. I need my team to trust that I was, that I am , making logical decisions. If any of them got hold of it, my motives would be questioned.
I tilt my head up at the eyesore, slowing my steps to a stop. The shoulders of impatient men and women push past mine. It really is even worse than the pictures—iron-gray and overbearing the cozy shops on either side of it. Three big bold letters line the front, yelling ‘I’m here and you can’t touch me.’ Bay .
It’s as tempting as my target. But she’s not here. I’ve waited for her all pissin’ day to stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb. Everything about this place screams money, money, money. She sang a different tune coated in my subordinate’s blood in that run-down equipment facility. I am going to find her.
Another drag. I should be more focused on getting the answers that literally lie in front of me, but the sound of that little shark bumping around my skull is so loud . It’s not like I could infiltrate this place anyway. I have no backup and I’m already testing my luck just being on their land. I let out an exhausted sigh, flicking my half-finished cigar to the ground. Yet, I do need answers. Without them, I can’t formulate a plan and without a plan, I can’t capture her. So, my body moves without my logical mind as it starts its journey towards the revolving glass doors.
I change my pace, turning casually in the opposite direction as some soldiers dressed in navy blue fatigues exit the building.
“You on the Sharks team?” One man says, immediately catching my attention. I walk slower and duck my head so I can hear every word being spoken as they pass.
“Hell yeah, a few days stuck on a boat with the Captain. I hear she likes recruits.” They erupt into a chorus of laughter.
“Who knows, maybe I’ll even kill the bastard we’re going after, end the war, become her hero .”
The corner of my mouth threatens to turn up, so she’s after me? I’m flattered.
“A lifetime supply of pussy and an honorable medal is so close I can almost taste it.”
And just as quickly as my newfound happiness comes, it fades into the lake of anger that pools inside of me. This one vile droplet just broke the dam. They’re talking about the woman whose mark I bear and whose picture burns a hole in my pocket. If anyone is fucking with her emotionally, mentally, or even physically, it’ll be me.
They split off and I grab the blabbering dumb ass by the back of his shirt and pull him into an alleyway.
“What… what the, oh god damn—"
Before I can even process my moves or the incoherent words he’s speaking, my fist is connecting with his face.
“ What fuckin’ ship ?” My hiss is so volatile, flecks of my spit hit his face. He tries to turn away from me, the pitiful sod, grasping at my wrist as I clutch at his shirt, keeping him stabilized.
“I–it’s just a ship, man!”
Using his body weight, I slam him back against the wall, his head bouncing back and forth.
“What fuckin’ ship?!” I demand again, louder. His face contorts and I think he’s about to cry. Surely a soldier should fight back, but it seems like Bays have never seen a day of combat.
“Who are you?!” He yells. I clasp my hand over his mouth in time with his knee to my groin. I scoff. Idiot . I was debating on letting him live. We tumble to the ground, his arms actively trying to guard his face. Everything is red. It’s on bricks in disturbing graffiti. It pours from his nose and mouth and, yet again, it paints my knuckles.
“Is it for Depth?” I’ve gained my ground back, my leg pushing on his chest.
The man simply whines in protest, thrashing his head and trying to get out from under me. My eyes roll involuntarily as I readjust him beneath me with little effort. One hard slap and his focus is back on me.
“When?”
“Fuck–” the man groans in protest, weakly trying to throw a punch. He really is pathetic. I’m being handed my shark on a silver platter if this is the type of scroungy little bastard she’s coming with. I wrap my hand around his throat, depriving him of just enough air that his eyes bulge and his face flushes.
“T-t…” I loosen my grip so I can hear him properly. “Two days.” He stutters out, breathless and gasping.
Two days, with good conditions she’ll be in my hands in nine days, maybe eight, depending on how eager the commander is.
Now, I’m a very patient man, but this is a problem. It’s not the fact that I have confirmed that she is, indeed, coming for me. Hell, that excites me more than anything. It’s the fact I simply can’t stop my fist from colliding with this man's head. I want her to know I was here. I want her to know what monster will be waiting for her arrival.
Bloodied, broken and almost unrecognizable. I have no remorse when I take a life and his is now gone, completely. I rub my forearm against my head, wiping away the sweat that breaks through my brow. What was my reason for killing him? He’s an enemy. I was… compromised. At least that’s what I will tell the team, and that’s what I will continue to tell myself until I convince the devil lurking around my head that it wasn’t because of her.
Flicking my gaze around the dark alley a large teal dumpster sits discarded, the lid cracked and overfilling with filth. Luckily, the pathetic waste of space weighs close to nothing, giving me enough leeway to prop him against the container.
Now she gets to clean up my mess.
My brows pull inward at the screeching of a vehicle on the road. I pity this town. I guess it’s as pleasing socially as it is physically. I need to get the hell out of here. Curses ring out and horns honk as I pull my hood up over my head before shoving my blood-stained hands into my pockets, preparing to duck and blend in. But a messy brown ponytail catches my attention, barging through Bay doors with a scowl narrowing her eyes and box clutched tightly in her hands. It’s her. I step out of the narrow dark space.
Note to self: Holidays, not relaxing . But it won’t hurt to stay just for a little longer.
Date: 4-24-2024
Time: 1612
Seriously? This is where she’s staying? I press the bottle of bourbon to my lips with semi-clean hands, grimacing from the way my tongue wants to push the liquid back out. This stuff tastes like piss compared to the whisky back home. I grin. The only good thing about this god-forsaken city is that it’s her home and now she knows what it’s like to have her blood spilled within her territory.
Shifting my hips on the bench just outside the convenience store, I try to blend into the scenery. Across the street is a worn-down apartment in the middle of disorder. It stares me in the face like it’s tempted to jump out and bite me. The long paneling of the side droops down like jagged teeth, and shutters on various windows are faded from excessive light exposure, making the face of the building look lifeless. After the whole fair fiasco, I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet , so I followed from a distance until I saw Sharkie, and that woman disappear into the building. It was easy work making myself… acquainted with the area. I needed something that would keep me from busting into the grimy building and dragging her back out. I chose booze. Unfortunately, it isn't doing a very good job.
According to the older gentleman who sat and chatted with me earlier, it’s nicer on the inside. Perhaps he’s right, but I couldn't care less to find out. I wish she wasn’t in there at all, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
My fingers twitch around the neck of the bottle, urging me to set it by my feet before I assault my stomach with the atrocity again. I oblige, letting the half-empty glass clink to the sun-cracked pavement below. I still need something to do with my hands to distract me from the blisters that are forming on my fuckin’ arse from the uncomfortable seating.
Pulling my knives from my pocket, I focus on chipping at the handle of one with the other, carving in languid shapes, replicating the art on my arm. Every so often, I glance at the second-story window that she passed by earlier. I should be satisfied. I know her name, and where she’s staying, but it’s not enough. I need to know what is going through her head.
The smell of copper and gun smoke fills my nose as I round the corner to see her. I didn’t expect to come face to face with the person who started raising havoc in my world.
With how good she is at her job, you would think she would be more aware of my presence, but she is too focused on the heap at her feet. I’m drawn to the way her shoulders are bunched; she’s still as a statue. Only years of training can make someone as sharp in stance as her.
It could be easy, just a few steps forward. A flip of my blade. But she catches me by surprise and next, it’s my blade in her hand.
Does death have a schedule? I feel the small trickle of liquid as it rolls down my neck, but I’m too intrigued. Too invested. I can’t bring myself to get out of this situation, even though she might kill me.
“Damn it Sharkie.” It’s quiet, full of static and it startles her enough to drop the knife.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask the thought out loud. I’m kissing death, I’m making out with the fucker.
“Shut up.” She hisses. So many secrets lead to so many questions, but all I can focus on is how that lifeless body keeps fucking bleeding, distracting me from this mystery woman.
“You’re a Bay, aren’t you?”
That oddly muffled voice comes again saying something I can't hear, grating my nerves. Can’t the world take one moment and pause so I can listen to this woman talk? Her delicate smooth finger presses to my mouth, making the scruff on my chin tickle from where her palm brushes it. She shakes her head, never letting her eyes stray from mine. The longer I stare, the more I notice flecks of gray scattered in the deep blue depths. It’s not fear that has my heart slamming against my ribcage threatening to escape, it’s the sight before me.
A sight which disappears with a hard crack. But a name rings in my ears.
Sharkie.
I twist my knife the wrong way, hissing as I nick my finger and break my mind from its fog.
For once, the town is quiet. The black sky sparkles with stars, and a full moon is left to illuminate the dark blanket. That’s not the interesting thing though, what’s interesting is how Sharkie’s body is standing tall in the window frame, face red and eyes squinted from whatever woke her in a panic.
I stay glued to her every move. How her chest heaves, her bandage-wrapped palm pushing against it as if she’ll magically be able to reach in and slow her heart with her hand. Sweat streaks from her hairline to her brow, shimmering in the little light provided.
Were you dreaming of me, Sharkie ?
Hopefully, I am the one haunting her nightmares. I tap the handle of the knife, willing my breathing to slow. I can see her, but she has no clue I’m here watching as she stands vulnerable, desperately pulling her sweat-soaked clothes off.
Shifting my seat, I don’t even notice how I stop tapping on my knife.
Her perfectly tanned skin comes into view, thin white scars adorn her toned abdomen wrapping over her ribs surely following a trail to her back. Her breasts sit high, and her waist curves to her hips in a mesmerizing hourglass shape. For walking destruction, she’s fuckin’ gorgeous . I raise my chin in vain hope it’ll allow me to see lower, but she turns and walks further back into the building out of my sight. Letting out a low growl, I roll my head to alleviate the tension that has formed in my shoulders, gripping my raging hard-on. Just blame it on the alcohol.
The vibrating in my pocket only adds to my chipper mood.
I forgot to call Sam and update him. That’s my fault, but the fact he’s just now calling back disappoints me in a way. What if my little shark bit me? Would he not even care enough to check? He also has the most impeccable timing. I pull in my bottom lip, biting through it in frustration but quickly breaking into a nasally laugh. It’s been too long since the sound has left me and it is shocking how it comes so easily. Pulling out my phone, I place it between my shoulder and ear to give my hands room to roam over the bruised knuckles.
“Sam?” I laugh through my greeting.
“ What the fuck is that noise? ” Sam booms back in shock, which only makes me stifle my chuckle, but the grin stays, dying as Cordelia steps back to the window now in an oversized shirt. Whose oversized shirt? It wouldn’t matter, I could fuck her with it on. Jesus, why is Sam talking again?
“ Where’d you learn to laugh? Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice, but warn someone next time before you throw them into shock .” He’s killing himself and I feel transported to when I was surrounded by my friends and my father. It’s almost enough to make me forget the circumstances. Almost .
“What’re you callin’ for? I know it’s not to see if I’m dead. You would’ve done that sooner.” I wave my hand to the street, hailing a taxi, hoping she catches the motion. I need her to know I’m here. Yet her eyes stay void of emotion, stuck studying the dim lights that illuminate the top of buildings.
“ We got a tip. Your little shark is swimming this way soon. For us, that is. ”
I didn’t tell him that.
“How do you know?”
When I think I’m so close to reeling in my line, the fish jumps off the hook and I’m stuck pondering again. My phone groans against my grip. We’re one step forward and one step back.
“ You knew ?”
I hate when he answers my question with a question, slamming the taxi door I slide into the middle of the leather seats. The tint on the glass leaves little to the outside world of what happens on the inside. But on the inside, you can see everything that happens on the outside.
“Doesn’t matter. Run the name Cordelia for me.” I tap the back of the driver's headrest and state my destination before relaxing back. Each clack of Sam's keyboard echoes through the line. It makes me grind my teeth.
“ Cor-de-lia,” he repeats the name slowly, sounding out each part of it. Peering out the window one last time, a satisfied grin takes over as I see she’s finally focused on the cab, her brows pinched and unsure. As much as I’d love to slam on the brakes and step back out, I can’t. I need to get home. She’ll be in my waters soon. Until then, I need to prepare for whatever wrath she’s bringing and possibly curate a nice little cell for when her plan fails.
“ There’s nothing. ”
Oh, she’s definitely something . I slip out my wallet, ready to hand the driver a few notes and take a little time to look at her picture.
It doesn’t do her justice anymore.