Art by Ajiaa Ginger Dubois, man. If purple hair wasn't natural they would indeed be ginger.
Posted: Mon Sep 09, 2013 6:38 pm
Tying up loose ends WARNING! THERE WILL BE DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND GORE. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.
He was proud. He was annoyed. He was baffled. He...wasn't used to feeling so many conflicting emotions all at once. How Zacharie had managed to completely disappear was a mystery to him. One that he planned to wrap up very quickly.
"If you are lying to me I will not hesitate to kill you." He informed the trembling man in front of him. While he valued his network of homeless people, they were of no use to him if they couldn't keep an eye out for his brother. "I ain't!" The man exclaimed, wincing as he was pressed more firmly against the brick wall of the back alley they'd met in. "Last we seen of 'im he was pretty roughed up. Face bleedin' and staggerin' from 'ome before disappearin' into the alleys!" This was not what Andre wanted to hear. "He was bleeding when he came out of the building. It didn't happen on the streets?" He asked, needing the clarification. "Yeah, yeah. Come outta that posh apartment all bloodied up! Hadn't left tha house before that, I swear it!" He knew the beggar was telling the truth, these people had no need to lie to him. They were smarter than that. That meant that one of them had dared to lay a finger on his little brother.
That had not been a part of the plan. He'd simply needed Zacharie vulnerable. Recently kicked out with nowhere to go and no one to turn to so he could pick him up and put the pieces back together. Leave it to their parents to ******** everything up....yet again.
He hadn't realized he'd been glaring at the poor man until the inane blabbering finally registered. "B-ut! 'Bout a week ago...Anna seen 'im with some tattooed guy. 'Bout your height, dark skin, dreads, and some real freaky lookin' eyes." Andre raised an eyebrow. Zacharie talking to strangers? He didn't like that one bit. "He 'ad a Gengar with 'im, glowin' green, I swear it." He leaned forward, pale eyes intent on the beggar before they slid shut as he smiled. "...Thank you. Your information is very useful." He said with a lilting tone. "Please let me know if you find out anything else on the whereabouts of my brother." Tucking a hundred dollar bill into the man's filthy collar, he pushed off of the wall and tucked his hands into his pockets. "Until next time~" He cooed sweetly as he exited the alleyway.
The sound of glass shattering on the tiled floor was incredibly satisfying. Though not nearly as satisfying as her horrified expression.
"Did you miss me?"
She looked faint. Slowly, she inched her way further into the kitchen. Away from him. "A-Andre?" It was said in disbelief, and he supposed it must be unbelievable to her. "Oh come now, don't look so surprised." He tsked softly as he locked the front door behind him. "Did you really think I'd never come back when you had something of mine?" He cocked his head and smiled warmly. "We got rid of all of your things long ago." This pulled a mirthful laugh from him, "Yes, yes, I know." He waved a hand dismissively before resting his hands on his hips. "Now, aren't you going to invite me in? I put quite a lot of thought into this meeting, it'd be rude to leave me standing in the entryway." He motioned down to his clothes. A dark, baggy, zip up jacket half zipped up to show a peek of the white, v-neck shirt beneath and simple, but fitted, jeans that led your eyes down to the old, battered, sneakers. A replica of what he had been wearing the day they had found out his nasty, little secret. "...Yes, I can see that." She said slowly, still moving away from him and towards the phone. "Ah, ah, ah." Swiftly, he drew a handgun from where it had been tucked in the back of his jeans. "I wouldn't, if I were you." She of course froze but the sound of heavy steps echoed from the sitting room. "Valerie, who are you talking-" Jean Dubois stopped dead in his tracks just inside the kitchen. His left eye was swollen shut, his lip was cut and currently bleeding from the stretch of his surprised frown, and bruises littered every visible surface of his skin. "Well, apparently someone got to you before I could." He said pleasantly, motioning for the older man to join his wife in the kitchen. "It warms my heart to have us all together as a family again." He sighed blissfully, taking in his parents standing together near the refrigerator with a smile. "We're missing the most important member of our little, dysfunctional family though." He said this as if surprised that Zacharie wasn't there. "We sent Zacharie away." His mother said quickly, reaching out to clutch at her husband's arm. "Oh I knew that." Picking at his nails, Andre looked almost like he was bored with the conversation. "Who do think sent you those pictures?" They're silence spoke for them. "We'll get to that later though. Right now I would like for you to quietly sit down on the bar stools and let me tie you up."
The door to his hotel room quietly clicked closed behind him as he wheeled himself into the short hallway. Only once he was alone did he let the politely blank expression fall into an a more solemn one. "...What am I doing?" He sighed miserably as he ran a shaky hand through his tangled hair. His arms and legs ached and throbbed as the medicine that he'd been given at the hospital began to wear off. He needed a shower...but he wanted to sleep. He needed to eat but honestly if he had to be with his own thoughts for much longer he felt that he would explode.
...He needed to call Vincent.
With a grunt he managed to fish his cellphone from his pocket and dial the familiar number. It only rang twice before that familiar voice echoed down the line, "Hey! Y'aren't dead, boss, are ya'?! Don't you know y'should call and let your wife know where y've been?!" A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth at the playful tone. "No, of course I'm not dead." He rolled his eyes even as he picked at a dirty spot on his pants. He'd need to get them dry-cleaned soon. "Y'don't sound too great, dead or not. Somethin' up?" At that, the man paused. He felt conflicted and it only added to his general irritation at himself. He released the tight grip he'd unknowingly had on his pants before letting out a weary sigh, "...I don't know what I'm doing." He admitted miserably, his voice wavering ever so slightly. He had never felt so out of control in his entire life and it was beginning to wear down on him. "I don't know either, so you'll have t'tell me," There was a pause on the line, he could hear the blonde's soft breathing. "So... y'should tell me what's up. I mean, it's important f'me to know. D'you need me to come out to ya'?" Vincent may not be the best with words, but he always seemed to know what to say. "...I joined the league in raiding Team Rocket." He slumped forward despite his back protesting violently. "Zacharie...he might have joined Team Rocket and I just-" His voice cracked and he sucked in a gasping breath as he tried to get himself together. "There was an explosion...I'm not seriously injured but I've had to get stitches and I'm stuck in this <********> wheelchair for a while." His free hand came up to pull roughly at his hair. "I cannot stand this I just-" He let out an enraged shriek and let the phone drop into his lap so both hands could pull at his hair. "Why can't I stop thinking? Just for two. ********. seconds?!" Angry tears rolled down his cheeks to splatter over his phone and lap but he couldn't be bothered to try to stop them. "Hey- hey! Andre! Pick up th' phone, would ya'?! Oi!"
The purple haired man let loose a sob that wracked his entire frame and ignored his phone in his lap. It was quiet except for Andre's soft sobbing until Vincent spoke again, this time in French. "Andre! Listen to me, where are you? Talk to me, please? I gotta know where you're at. Andre?" Shaky fingers took up the phone and slowly brought it back up to his ear. "...I'm in Camphoreon." He said softly, sniffling pitifully and wiping at his face with the back of his free hand. He was more tired than ever but he didn't feel like he was about to explode at any moment anymore. He considered that to be a step in the right direction. "Go lay down n'relax, a'right? Text me the address f'where you're stayin' later. Honestly! Makin' your wife worry. Are y'eatin' right? Bet y'ain't. I'll be there soon. Hang tight, boss," Andre smiled and let his eyes fall closed. He could hear the worried tone that the blonde was trying to cover up for his sake. "Alright." He murmured, cradling the phone between his head and shoulder as he wheeled himself further into the room. "I've been eating just fine. I have breakfast every morning and sometimes I even remember to eat dinner." He grunted softly as he pulled himself up onto his bed and stretched out along the cool blankets. "...I'll see you soon." He grinned at the kissy noise the blonde sent him before the line went dead.
Feeling much better, he sent Vincent the address of the hotel before dropping his phone onto the nightstand to his left. The man heaved a tired sigh before closing his eyes.
In the cold light of morning. WARNING! There will be mentions of drug use/abuse and dubious consent. Read at your own discretion.
You have fifteen new messages. To listen to your new messages, press one...to listen to saved messages, press-
BEEP
"Hey Andre, where're ya' at? I made dinner, no celery jus' like you asked. You out on business?"
His eyelids felt like they'd been glued together, it felt as if his mouth was stuffed with cotton, and he was sure that his head was about to split in half. Oddly enough, it only made him want to get up. With a soft grunt, he slid out from beneath the arm draped heavily across his waist (Why was he topless and sticky?) and gracelessly rolled off of the bare mattress. His legs shook as he forced himself to stand and stare down at his bedmate. Greasy blond hair; long, dark eyelashes; and a wan complexion...decidedly not Vincent. "...********." He groaned quietly as he ran a cold, clammy hand down his face.
BEEP
"Leftovers're in the fridge. M'going to bed."
He stumbled his way to the small, dingy bathroom of the run down motel room he was in and leaned heavily against the little sink as he waited for the world to stop spinning. His body seemed to be working against him though and he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet (When was the last time it'd been cleaned?) and expelled what little contents his stomach held. He was coming down hard and it rivaled the pain that came with going through withdrawals. Stomach churning, he pulled himself over to the shower with shaky limbs and turned it as cold as it could go.
BEEP
"Where are you? You should have told me if you had business, I would've gone with you. Call me back as soon as you can."
Bite back the instinctive yelp. Relax muscles that tense out of reflex. Tilt face into the frigid spray.
A long, drawn out groan slipped past his lips before he slouched forward, one hand braced against the shower wall in front of him and the other coming up to press firmly against his forehead. What was he going to do? He knew that Vincent knew he was using again but this...how was he going to explain all of this? "You...have ******** up." He muttered to himself, clenching his fingers into his fringe and giving a sharp tug. He couldn't think, couldn't hold onto his thoughts for more than a fleeting moment. "God dammit, God <********> dammit!" He slammed his fist against the shower wall, ignoring the burst of pain and the ache in his knuckles. He instead turned his attention to the thin, but warm arms wrapping (don't touch me) around his waist, the soft, raspy (disgusting) voice that murmured praise and compliments into his ear, the touch of chapped lips against the back of his neck (get off, get off, get off!). He lashed out, catching the others chin with his elbow and taking an intense pleasure in the pained grunt he got in response as the blond went down, slipping against the slick porcelain and just barely managing not to crack his head against the rim of the tub. "Don't touch me." He hissed, dodging failing limbs as he climbed out of the shower.
BEEP
"This isn't funny Andre, if you don't reply in an hour I'm coming to look for you. Call me back, Andre!"
Dry, dressed, and narcotics secured in his bag, Andre silently slipped out of the motel room and started off down the street.
He could watch him for hours. Muscles flexing and shifting beneath pale, lightly freckled skin. The panting, desperate sounding, breaths. The concentrated expression on his face...
“Again.” His fingers twitched against the armrests of the chair he was sitting in. “Opposite side.”
He wondered how long Zacharie could keep it up. If he'd follow his instructions until he physically could not any more. Would he try to push past that point for him? All because he didn't want to look his metaphorical gift horse in the mouth. Andre wanted to test it out, wanted to push and push until he couldn't push any more and then push again...but he couldn't. Not with Zacharie.
Not yet at least.
“Stop. Resting stance.”
He couldn't just ignore his little brother's well being when he was obviously struggling. He approached the younger boy, feeling at the hard muscles forming and firming beneath soft skin. His little brother would be filling out soon, grow tall...taller than him most likely. He wasn't looking forward to it.
It wasn't often that Andre called upon him. At least, not since that man crawled his way into Andre's life. There was a time when he was always by Andre's side. When he was the one that Andre called for help, who he confided in, who he trusted above all else.
He should have been in Camphoreon with their boss. He should have been the one to help find Zacharie. He should have been there for Andre when he needed someone the most.
His name was Louis Roux, and he has been Andre's associate for twelve years.
"Good afternoon, Louis." Said man stared down at the sunny expression on his boss' face. So much had changed about that familiar face. Andre had gotten older, wiser, more worn in his absence. You could see it in the soft bags under his eyes, in the small creases near his lips, and as strange as it seemed he could see it in his pulled back hair. Shorter than when he'd left Grande Ile, the shortest he's seen it since their first meeting all those years ago. "It's good to see you, Andre." Louis said softly, hands clasped behind his back to restrain himself from reaching out and touching. Andre's smile widened ever so slightly as he motioned to the seat across from him before picking up a cup of what he could safely say was Earl Grey. "Have a seat. No need to stand around and stare at me all afternoon."
It was only years of experience that kept his face from turning red as he slid into the offered chair.
Just as it had been obvious to Andre that Louis had been examining him, it was obvious that the purple-haired male was checking him over as well.
Reply
