Arson

Chapter Five

Alexandria's P.O.V

...Why couldn't I sleep? I wasn't avoiding it like I normally did, I actually wanted it.

There was this familiar sink in the pit of my stomach.

Dread. It was dread.

My thoughts were racing.

Was he okay? Did he need backup? Was he going to leave us to figure this all out on our own?

STOP IT! He doesn't care about me, or Micro, or anyone but himself!

Don't let yourself fall prey to a false idea of happiness, Alex...you don't deserve it.

To get my mind off of him, I throw myself out of bed and towards my makeshift gym.

It was next-door to my bathroom...just a punch buddy and some weights. There was a mat in the middle of the floor, riddled with scars and debits in it from all of the training I had done on it.

This was my solution. Drown myself out in my craft.

And that's what I did.

For hours, I slashed, punched, and practiced everything I had on that bag. The beads dripped onto the floor...along with the blood from my knuckles.

Flexing them, they ached and burned with every movement. Pain. The perfect distraction...but could become a drug if used too often.

With one good Spartan kick to the bag, it rattled violently, the tears and rips in its body dropping more beads by the minute.

What time was it?

I reached for my phone, the induced injuries making my skin crawl slightly. My wrists were suffering as well, but they would be okay. Just a few days of hurt.

It was early in the morning, about 4 A.M.

Frank should be back by now...if not, I can always antagonize Micro. Or cook myself something.

Almost on que, my stomach growled monstrously. Okay, yeah, I needed something to eat.

My hunger brought me to the fridge.

Hmm...I could make a sandwich...yeah, I'll do that.

I swiped the ingredients from the fridge, throwing it all on the island for preparation. Tomatoes, avocado, ham...a delicious combination just waiting to happen.

"YO! You gonna make me one!?" Micro called as he passed in his rolly chair.

"Nope, gotta make it yourself, Lieberman!" My laugh was a playful evil, but my attention was still on the sandwich.

"Aw!"

I've been taking care of myself ever since I was six. In that time period, I've acquired so many skills - skills unimaginable by most. But one of the odd ones I've gotten, is being a master when it comes to sandwiches.

Finally, once it was finished, I began feasting on it. After the workout, I was pretty ravenous.

The sandwich was gone in a few minutes...huh, I was hungrier than I thought I was.

"Oh - he's back!" Micro called over from the monitors.

"Really!?" I hopped over the island, excitement flooding through my mind.

...David looked back at me, a smirk on his face.

"Wipe that look off your face! He's p-probably got ammo! I'm low on ammo...that's all."

He didn't wipe that smug expression off his face, in fact, it actually grew.

"MICRO, SHUT UP!"

"Hey, I didn't say anyth-"

The car doors slammed shut, cutting us both off. The breath of air I was going to use for a rebuttal fizzled out.

"Greetings, Castle! Did you get the weapons?" Micro greeted, holding back his laughter.

From the kitchen, I could barely see the top of the trunk open.

All the Punisher uttered to respond to our silence was...

"HOT PINK."

"...Huh?" I was dumbfounded by what he said.

He held up the hot pink rifle.

"Sweet Sixteen. Your tip, Lieberman, lead me to a crate with a singular rifle. No ammo, no useful weapons," He tossed the rifle somewhere off into the distance. The sound of it breaking made me cringe slightly. That poor gun. "So, we're stuck at an empass here. I can't do anythin' without my guns, and Alex over there won't let me touch her's."

"Wow," I rolled my eyes, completely done with his complaints. "Imagine having such a fragile masculinity that you're repulsed by a hot pink rifle."

"ALRIGHT, LISTEN HERE LADY-"

"GUYS!" Micro yelled above our little quarrel. "You can kill each other later, I've got something on another cargo truck! The Homeland Security Agency just got the go ahead for the trade."

"Great. Now I'm gonna have to deal with Rough-Road even more than I wanted to."

"...Rough-Road...?" He tilted his head curiously. Curiosity was one of his more annoying attributes...but still, I found myself answering his question.

"You're hard headed, stubborn, bumpy. Something a person wouldn't like driving on, given the choice..."

"...So, when's the wedding?" Micro teased.

I've never drawn a pistol so fast before.

"WOAH, WOAH, OKAY, FORGET I ASKED!" He threw his arms up in surrender. "T-The cargo truck is gonna be near the port! Just-...UGH, STOP POINTING THAT THING AT ME!"

"Fine," I snapped back at Castle. "I'll be at the port in a couple of hours, make sure everything is on the up and up. You just make sure I get my ammo."

"Yeah, don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll replace some of those old rifles to."

"Don't," I shoved the pistol's side into his chest, letting him take it. "Touch my guns."

"Heard loud and clear."

"Sometimes, I wonder..." My snarl wasn't guttural like his was, probably would never be.

I just needed him to know, that I wasn't gonna be pushed around by him.

Not a chance.