Fredrick Wager (Way-grr) decided it was time to go inside. Waiting outside in the cold would freeze anyone to death. He stood up an dusted the flurries of snow off of himself as he entered the restaurant
“you’re being expected Mr. Gallant!”
He smiled as Fred laughed to himself about two things. One, He was early but his contact was earlier. Two, he had forgotten that he was someone else yesterday.
“Right up the steps to the elevator. Last floor. It’s a beautiful view if I must say myself sir.”
The receptionist said as Fredrick walked to the steps.
“I agree with you maim, and thank you.’’ He nodded as he walked away. Up the steps and around the corner, he pushed the button for the elevator and waited. A few moments went by. Then a half a minute. His fingers flickered as he waited. A whole minute passed and Fredrick decided to look at a painting behind him. After a few more minutes, the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Fredrick turned and looked a mercenary right in the eyes. Blood splatter lined the walls in the elevator. A robust man, M16, tattoos and a thinning hair line stood staring back at him. Stepping in, Fredrick nodded again. A body laid in the corner, dead being an understatement.
“Here. Let me get that.”
The man said. Fred looked up to see that the elevator doors were still open. Reaching over, the mercenary pressed the door closed button. As the doors closed, Fredrick’s profile zeroed in on something. He seen the bullet proof vest. The combat knife on his side. The opening in the vest on both sides right underneath his arms.
“Going up to see Mr. Laredo?
Fred looked at him as if he was reading him.
“Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.”
“Too tight of a corridor- like space to swing an M16.”
He thought. Slow on the drawl, Fred reached for his gun as the mercenary shoved him against the opposite wall. Fred grabbed his arm and shoved him back, twisting his wrist. The man yelled out but instead of dropping the knife, he swung with his other hand. The meeting with Fredrick’s face was quite nice, His teeth shuddering in his mouth. He wanted to crawl into a ball, when the next shot to his stomach shook his frame but he fought back the tears that welled up in his eyes and as his body was cast to the opposite wall again, he tried to drawl his gun. He pulled it out, but it was knocked away again. His vision blurred as his face was fist beaten more and more. Blood exploded from his nose, and lip as he stood back up. Wiping it with his sleeve, he charged at the mercenary who drew his knife again holding it like a spear, waiting to impale Fredrick. He stopped short though, grabbing his arm and slamming him into the wall, and pulling his arm up, as he speared him with his head. The knife dropped and Fredrick punched the mercenary in the mouth as he picked up the knife and stabbed him underneath the arm. He hit him again and again Multiple times , finally bringing the bulging mass of muscle down to his knees. Kicking him in the face, making him slump over against the opposite wall of the man the mercenary killed, Fredrick picked his gun up and cocked the hammer back. A nine in a half inch blade did it.
“you’re a beast you know that.”
Fred said.
He smiled as he coughed up blood, gasping in between shallow breaths.
“ You messed… with the… bull.”
He chocked out.
“I know, I know. I get the horns. I did. And now it’s your turn.”
Fredrick then did what he thought was necessary.
Stumbling out of the elevator, Fredrick was awoke as he felt the bitter cold.
“What happened to you?!”
Laredo called out.
“I got beaten up by one mercenary! ONE! Do you realize what two or three may do?!”
“How long do we have?”
Laredo asked.
“Just enough time for me to ask you something.”
Fredrick sat down and looked around.
“Is that vodka?’’
He asked, drawling his gun.
“Yeah. Some of the finest. You aren’t going to drink when your on the job right?”
Fredrick just laughed at him.
“When have I ever not?’’
He asked, then took a sip from the bottle. He then shook his head, and poured the alcohol all over his face. He yelled as he spit the vodka out after swishing it around in his mouth and shook his head.
“cleans my wounds.”
“Now. What is this that I hear about atomic weaponry?” Fredrick asked.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.’’
Laredo replied.
Fredrick laughed. He pulled the hammer back on the trigger and pointed it at him.
“ ‘Coffee’ it coming up here right now. Possible black and I bet you they’re not too happy. They’re after you, and I am here for two reasons. To get this information and the second reason is only optional. It’s to save you if you have anything important to talk about.”
“I don’t know nothing man! You got to believe me Fred. I wouldn’t do this to you. Your company, TEA. They have been watching me for a long time now. We’re friends.”
Fredrick laughed again.
“I have been beaten up A LOT for you my ‘friend’. It’s about time I repay that to you.”
The gun sounded, and a whole ripped through Laredo’s shoulder, dropping his whole arm. He screamed out in pain.
“Two more minutes Sir. ‘Coffee’ Is soaking this building up. Its boiling and ready to spill over. Are you ready for that?”
“Alright. Alright!”
He called out. I’ll tell you what I know. I don’t know this guy but I he’s almost a myth. He wants to build atomic weapons.”
“Like bombs right?”
“No. Like handhelds. Guns, ammunition. He wants portable devices that will reek havoc on everyone and everything. He’s stealing nuclear rods from the bottom of the sea beds and recycling them to use for his experiments.”
“Hold on. What?”
“Yeah. That’s what I said Man. That’s what I said. He is having problems for using them in projectiles though. The Blast damage is amazing. He wants that but the problem from what I hear is that he needs the protective clothing to blow stuff up and walk away with no radiation or anything that will kill him or his men.”
“And this ‘guy’ is where?”
“I told you, I don’t know. Nowhere near here. I can tell you that. Like I said, he was a myth.”
The service elevator chimed and Fredrick knew that he had only seconds.
“Thanks Laredo. I needed that. It’s not enough to keep you alive though. As a house warming gift though, I give you this so you can’t run.”
Fredrick fired another shot that ripped through the muscles of Laredo’s thigh and out the back, rupturing his hamstring. Laredo cried out as Fredrick ran toward the window and the outside, where he saw that the only ledge to another building was thirty feet away, or so he hoped thirty feet. He aimed for a window though and tucked his gun away. Shots rang out overhead, and he had no time to think as he catapulted himself over the edge and through the window, glass splintering in all directions. He felt the cold air on his face. The wind in his clothing, the fear that was in his eyes resounded in his mind, as his heart leaped up into his throat and yelled to his brain “We’re going to die!” He pounded through the third story window of a small apartment building. He rolled feebly on the ground and lay there for a few minutes as he seen the mercenaries looking at him almost forty feet away. He stood up and dusted the glass off of his shoulders and clothing.
He looked at the shocked man, that was on the bed watching television, who now was scared out of his mind.
“I always overshoot things. Always.”
He shook his head again and limped out the door into the hallway. He brushed past the door frame, his arm feeling slack. It was out of place he knew. The fall rolled it out of his socket and there was only a few ways to get it back before the pain heightened. Fredrick held his head low as he shuffled across the carpeted hallways toward an elevator. He pressed the button for floor level and waited, shifting his weight onto his good leg. Something was eking down the bridge of his nose. He felt it. Didn’t know what it was but knew in his mind what it could be. The door opened and as Fredrick picked his head up, He seen that the scruffy men in the elevator were already up to no good. He stepped in and put himself against the wall. He seen something he needed to hide for as long as he could. Wounds were never a good show cause they would tell that you right then were ripe for a beating. These men, pedestrians, pickpockets or what have you, knew all to well that when there’s a thresh hold of pain in someone’s eyes, it’s never a good time to act. Unless your two dumb guys looking for a quick buck and have no other choice.
“I need your jacket.”
Fredrick spoke up in the ponderous silence that permeated the small cramped space.
“I’ll give you fifty for it.”
The two men looked at each other.
“ ‘Undred.”
One said with his thick British accent.
“my final offer gentlemen.”
Fredrick said to them. He pulled his wallet out, which it seemed the two men stopped breathing when he did. It was bad news bears. The first gut seen the bills in Fredrick’s wallet, knowing that a hundred dollars was a drop in the bucket of this man and shoved him against the wall. The man charged Fredrick but his arm was grabbed and snapped back. As he held the man’s hand, crippled and on his knees, a sucker punch again shook his frame, and rattled his brain. He turned and thrust his elbow into the man’s side, letting go of the poor sap’s crushed fingers. His elbow went into the man’s side, then pulling back into the man’s jaw, the popping was a confirmed connection that tore the ligament that connected the jaw to the rest of the face. He went slack on the floor as Fredrick was punched in the stomach and then again in the face. More of a deterrent than a folly, Fredrick Slammed the other man against the wall, and ser him right with a swift front elbow to the gut then an uppercut, again with his elbow. The man slid down the wall and Fredrick grabbed his shirt to pull him back up.
“The hundred back and the jacket. Now.’’
Was all he said. The elevator stopped on the floor before the ground level and the two men were shoved out, lying on the floor barely conscious. Ground level came too soon and It was barely enough time to slip one arm into the coat. His slack one, dangled by his side, occasionally propped up by his chest. He needed a sling. So as he walked out he took the sleeve and tied it around his arm, and bit onto the tip with his teeth. He laughed at the fact he got punched twice more to himself and made his way outside without much of a ruckus.
He sat at a bus stop, knowing well that if he was being followed, that a transit authority was the last place anyone would check. Sooner than better, the ran came and Fredrick bit onto the sleeve more as he got up. Wincing in pain, his leg almost giving out. He made his payments and sat down, knowing that every eye was on him. There was not much room and he asked the person next to him if this goes to the tram that took him to the next town over. After a affirmed confirmation, Fredrick sat down, feeling drained and winded. He hoped his ribs weren’t broken. He could do cracked, jut God not broken. ‘please.’
He pleaded to himself.
“You need a hospital man. You are bleeding too much.”
He felt the blood matting his reddish brown hair, turning it a crimson reddish black. It rain down his face in strips that were reminiscent of sweat that clung to his brows and ears. That seemed into his hair line and dripped off the bridge of his nose.
“I’m fine. Worry about yourself man. I need a Bus. That’s all. I have a doctor where I’m going.”
Nothing more was said. He felt weaker and more and more tired. His eyes lost their luster as his body went into shock, turning his ace white and his lips light blue. Fighting everything in him, he stood up at his stop and crossed the street into the bus terminal, where hundreds of people were around him. He had his plan. He made his way to the bathroom, where the lockers were situated on the outer edges of the stalls. Popping the lock on his locker, he pulled out a bad and walked into the bathroom. He had eyes a few things that were out of the ordinary. First, he seen two men eyeing him as he got on the bus. His suspicions were confirmed as he seen the same two men at the terminal too. He wasn’t for sure, but he had to work fast. Not quite clearly thinking, Fredrick slammed his arm into the door of the bathroom, holding his forearm, and pushing with all his might, shoving his whole arm into socket again. He cried out but bit his lip. He had most of his movement back now, no matter how much it hurt. He went through the bag he had, and pulled out an electric razor, new clothing and hair dye. He shaved then decided he should empty his bladder, when he heard the first man come in. He stood by the stall, Fredrick already zipped up, nothing from keeping this guy to attack. He flushed and began to turn when a hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him in. A fist to the chest only pushed the man away and It seemed like the man laughed it off.
“How many of there are you?”
Fredrick asked.
“Enough to take you down for good. “
The man said. Then drew a knife. The blade slashed and Fredrick jumped back, well aware that his leg was in the worst shape of his life. He ducked as the blade swiped again.
“ hate TEA agents.”
He said quite bombastically as he lunged forward. A grip on the man’s arm, then a strike to the head, only shook this beast of a man and he stammered back from it all, his friend charging in, tackling Fredrick to the ground. They wrestled for a bit, Fredrick, linking his arm with the mercenary’s. He pulled back and the man howled. He pulled back more and a fist shot to his rubs.
“Come on!”
He yelled out. The struck upward with his bad arm, pushing the man away, letting his feet kick him to his knees. Fred scooted forward and kicked the man’s chest, and stood up, only to get grabbed by the first mercenary who’s knife was never picked back up. Fredrick was blessed in that manner, but when the mercenary grabbed his arms and twisted them behind his back, The other guy taking a shot of Fredrick’s face that was when that ring on the man’s finger will never be forgotten. It tore his cheek open and blood hit the tile wall. He snorted and kicked the man in the leg.
Nothing.
Fredrick did it again.
Nothing. It was like the man had an iron leg. He wrapped his leg around the man’s and then twisted.
Another shot foiled any attempt at redemption and it dropped him to his knees. The mercenaries let him go as they drew their guns and aimed at him. “Do it! He yelled. Do it!.”
Nothing.
“You want to do it, then go ahead!”
It was then when he found out that it wasn’t the place for him to die.
Fredrick sat in the back of the car that the men had dragged him into and they took him away from the city he was in. The country side, white with snow was beautiful. The clouds looked as if they were painted white amidst a bright blue sky. Davinci or Van Gough could not have painted a better picturesque landscape. In the back seat, his hands were tied. He was seat belted in but he had enough of an idea on how to get himself out of this. Fredrick had let himself slump in the chair so he could dislocate his shoulder again, grabbing the seatbelt ever so tightly wound around his body and popped the belt off. The pain was bearable, but it was a shame for the passenger in front of him, who looked behind to see what was going on and got a foot in the face. A move that sent him against the dashboard and over the stick shift. The driver pushed him off and looked back.
What’s going on?!”
He yelled.
“Keep you’re eyes on the road. It’s not safe to drive unconsciousness you know.”
Then Fredrick kicked the seat, shaking the driver. He would have tightened the seat belt had he hands to do it with but it was sufficient enough a kick to send the man reeling. Still he kicked more expecting the worst to happen.
It did, but it played out worse than Fredrick ever expected. The man overshot, turned while he was dazed and careened the car off the road, flipping it onto the embankment covered in snow. In slow motion the seen played out. The man yelling that was driving, glass floating around, blood and all sorts of other particles. Even at one time a sock. Even for professional mercenaries, they really needed to clean their vehicles out. Off kilter, the right axel beyond repair and the engine totaled as well as the front end, not to mention the roof and, well, just about everything else the car stopped on its side. Fredrick knew to climb in between the seats to stop the blows and wasn’t too shaken when the car stopped. He pulled his arms from around the front of his legs and kicked the door. Then the window. Then the door. It was stuck.
Apparently jammed in.
He reached over the slumped bodies to pop the lock button and got grabbed by the man in the front seat. He got an elbow to the face, and it was over, what never was really started. He kicked the door open with one brute force kick. A kick the hurt so bad he thought his leg was broken but got out anyways, and stood out in the cold, watching the engine smoke and then catch fire. He decided to be nice and pull the bodies out of the car, and dig for the keys in the men’s pockets. His mind was a saw blade in his head. His thoughts were the edges of the blade and his mind couldn’t slow down enough to collect his thoughts. He felt the blood coursing down his face. His hair was matted to his head, as he struggled to stand up. His legs shook as he tried to right himself, only to collapse in the snow next to one of the bodies. Fredrick laid on his stomach and coughed as he tried to breath.
“Get on you’re knees.”
Said a voice, pressing a gun to the back of the head of Fredrick. He grabbed him by the shirt when he found out Fredrick couldn’t stand and moved him to his knees. A grunt came out as Fred’s mouth rolled spit out. He coughed again, barely able to breath as his lungs felt like they were on fire.
“Do it.”
He said.
“Do it. It’s over for me. You got me. Just pull the trigger.”
The hammer cocked back and the gun dug into his temple.
“I should you know. Put you out of your misery.”
Fredrick laughed as his body swayed against the wind. He coughed more and looked into ahead of him. Snow falling, a car burning next to him with the city in the distance. Picturesque indeed. He coughed again.
“You know. I love black coffee.” He hacked up a mouthful of blood and spit it out. He felt blood running off of his fingers and dripping to the snow, tainting its pure beauty. “But I work for tea.”
The way he said that, the shooter knew he had heard that before.
“Felix? Felix?”
He said. He pulled the gun away as Fredrick fell to the snow packed ground.
Chapter Two
“Monroe? Monroe?”
Fredrick called out.
“Yes?”
“Oh good. I’m dead. How are you Monroe?”
“Hate to say it Felix. You’re not dead.”
“Then why are you here?”
“You’re in the ICU. I’m visiting.”
“You’re dead.”
“Nope.”
“Monroe?”
“Yeah?”
“Kill me.”
Monroe stood up.
“What?!”
“I’ve lived a life I regret. A life I can’t mentally handle anymore. TEA has run me ragged. Death and hatred is all around me. I thought that the coffee would get to me. Burn me from the inside. You saved me from that. Please save me from my torment.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“You haven’t even touched your apple juice.”
Fredrick tried to sit up. He howled and laid back down.
“How bad am I?”
He said as Monroe turned on the lights on.
“hair line fractured ribs, bruised lungs, and internal bleeding. They opened you up and stopped it up though. You have a month to go back to work.”
“You still have your gun you put against my head?”
“I’m not doing it Felix.”
“Why do you call me Felix?”
“That’s your name you went by when I met you. What do you go by now?”
“I don’t remember. I go by a lot. It’s been Fredrick. Maybe not so much now. I got beaten up being called that. Maybe go with Alex now.”
“Why not Felix?”
“Too many bad memories. Where’s that apple juice?”
Monroe handed the juice box to him with a straw.
“Tear off the cap and pour some vodka in it please.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Come on. How many times have I gave you booze in a hospital?”
“None.”
“Exactly.”
“You know. Now that I think about it, I don’t think you ever visited me in the hospital before.”
Monroe said.
“The time I shot you in the butt.”
“Ah…I remember that. True. You did come that time.”
There was silence that followed those words that seemed to be for minutes on end.
“I need my phone. Do you have it?”
Felix asked.
“No. I thought it came in with you.”
Fredrick gave him the look that nothing more needed to be said.
“Did it have vital information on it?”
Monroe asked dumbly.
“Only of the most important. The phone itself is available. But its access info has an algorithm in it that will take a Mensa student a week to crack. It should be ok for a week until I find them and get it back.”
Felix looked around.
“I need a favor please. Get me out of here.”
It's always good! 
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