Three's Not A Crowd (Revamp)

Chapter Seventy-One: [Martin I]

    Back at the hotel, Martin walked into his room, shutting the door as he popped his back and scowled. He then sat down and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Tch."
    Some folks could be heard walking by, mumbling and chatting, a child's high-pitched giggles, and the sound of little feet running down the hall. Martin listened, lighting his cigarette as he stood and made his way out, opening the door as he watched the child with a scowl. He took a puff, sniffing as he crossed his arms, the child paid no mind as his parents opened the door near Martin's apologizing before they went in the room. He huffed, going back in as he shut his door and laid on his bed, smokin away.
    There was a while of silence, before the sound of walking neared his room, then stopped. A knock wasn't far off, a polite, slow knock.
    He turned, scowling as he sat up, taking out another cigarette and lit it. "No one is home!"
    "Sir." A man's voice rose behind the door.
    He stood, clenching his fist as he took a large puff and went to the door, opening it. "The fuck you want huh?"
    A tall man dressed in black looked down at him, extending a gloved hand. "Maverick Blackwell." He introduced. "May I come in?"
    Martin examined him, scowling more. Blackwell. Interesting. He stepped aside.
    Maverick stared, lowering his extended hand as he walked in, nodding his head. The tall man needed to duck just a bit as he went through the doorway. Martin eyed him a bit, shutting the door.
    Maverick stood in his room, looking at him as he shut the door. "I felt you eyeing me, might I ask why before I explain why I'm here?"
    Martin sat in a chair, casually puffing the cigar. "'Cause I can. And because my ex wife is friends with a Blackwell."
    "Ah, yes, my mother." He replied, standing near. "And, like my mother, I dislike folk like you." His tone shifted, turning his hazel eyes to him. "Rebecca Simmons, your wife, correct? No, you said ex-wife, so she'd return to her maiden name, if my knowledge is correct." He talked.
    "Yeah, no shit sherlock. You new here or somethin'?"
    "No no no Mr. Simmons." He shook his head, walking closer.
    He scowled, pulling out another cigarette and offered it to him. "You're old enough now, right?"
    "Twenty-two sir, well enough, but apologies. I'm more of a drinker then a smoker." He replied, eyes tainted in something.
    "Suit yourself. There's booze in the mini fridge. Why you here again? 'nd how did you find me, eh?"
    "Oh, hm. See I'd tell the whole truth, but you might scream, so let's just say. . . a friend of Rebecca's phoned me to make sure you're cared for by the hotel, is what they told me." He explained as he knelt and checked the mini fridge, making a face and stood, closing the door. He leaned on the desk beside it.
    He scowled, eyeing him again. "Damian? Rebecca doesn't have. . . friend's."
    "Is that his name?" He questioned. "He sounded like a nice fellow."
    "Tch. Nice fellow. . . right." Try wife-fucking fellow.
    "He sounded like a nice fellow, but voices are tricky. Now, to say why I was brought here."
    "Yeah, do fucking share. I don't like company."
    "Wellll. I was not only brought here to check on you, was brought here to do a job."
    He made a face. "You're weird as fuck dude, get outta here." He stood.
    "I should reward you, really. Only person who's had the pleasure of having a lengthy conversation with me." Maverick stood as well.
    Martin scowled. "Well, I'm done talkin'."
    "Good, thought you'd be done talkin'." He stepped closer.
    He flicked the cigar down, still scowling. "You can leave now."
    "I'll leave, after I do what I was brought here to do." He reached for something, keeping his eyes on him.
    "Well too bad, leave." He pointed to the door. "Or I'll call the police you creep."
    "You ain't callin' shit." Maverick's tone shifted once more, more poisonous and angered.
    Martin raised his eyebrows. "Threatening me now, huh?" He grabbed his phone, taking it out but the other man lunged, grabbing his wrist and twisted it back. Martin bared his teeth, grunting as he went to elbow him, but again he reached his other hand, revealing a blade oddly familiar.
    Martin stared, looking up at him. "Ah, I see now."
    Maverick smirked. "So ya do. I applaud you, you'll have the cleanest death." He whispered to him, twisting his arms and held Martin against him, raising the blade.
    He stared, trying to move. "GGH-"
    Maverick clasped a hand to his mouth as he knelt to the ground. "Now you can't harm Ms. Tillie ever again." He spoke low in his ear as he aimed the blade and stabbed it directly into his heart.
     Maverick watched him stare at him, having only a few seconds of life before going limp, watching the light from his eyes.