A Woozy Youth (A NovaHD Gang AU)

"Oh, wow."

Story Song: Shake Ya - Hacienda

Word Count: 553

Alek's P.O.V

We walked for quite awhile, my legs sore from walking a those blocks before I started running.

Eventually, I felt heat surrounding me, hearing large doors close behind us.

I was tugged upstairs, and managed to be dragged into a room where I heard other voices speaking. My heart dropped into my stomach.

I felt pointed shoes kick the back of my legs and I hissed in back as I was brought to my knees.

"Is this him?" One of the unfamiliar voices asked, and he sounded like any normal guy to me.

"It has to be, he looks just like him." The British man replied. There was a pause.

"He said he wasn't him when we asked." The chicken man added.

"I have to say, I'm very disappointed in you gentlemen. Sloppy work. You didn't get him to speak? You clearly didn't try hard enough, I don't even see any marks on him." Another silence loomed overhead.

"We didn't think it was necessary, he looks just like him."

"Get out." The normal guy said, in his normal guy voice, the ice in it chilling me to my core unlike the times before. My hands were released as they exited the room, but I made no effort to get up.

"So, were you lying before? Are you really not Aleksandr Marchant?" The man asked, his voice all around me as if he was circling me, like a shark.

"I don't know how to answer that." I replied.

"What is so hard about it?" He asked patronizingly.

"Well, part of me wants to leave, and part of me wants to know your intentions with poor Aleksandr." Nothing was said, a knee brought painfully to my chin. I bit my lip in the process, getting knocked backwards, blood pooling in my mouth.

"That was just out of kindness. I have other ways to find out. We wouldn't just let you go." The man said with a firm grip on my hair, hissing into my ear.

"Jordan." Another person said, and my head was spinning. How many bodies were currently in this room?

"Yes?"

"It's him. Roll up his jacket sleeve." I felt another yank to my arm, the inked skin on it exposed to the room of god-knows-how-many.

"Good work, James."

"Okay, yes, I'm Aleksandr Marchant. You can call me Aleks though since you just drove your knee into my chin. We seem pretty acquainted now, I think."

"You better stop mouthing off, fucker." The James fellow said, his throaty voice distinctive.

"Can you get this bag off my head please?" I said, ignoring the James guy.

"I'm gonna hurt him." I heard James mumble, and I chuckled slightly.

"Go for it, just not too bad." A strangled gasp escaped my throat in surprise, and I was straddled once again, the bag pulled from my head as a hand connected to my cheek.

"Shit!" I cried out, spitting out blood as I looked at my attacker.

"Oh, wow." I couldn't help but breathlessly say. What the fuck? Am I really admiring the beauty of the man who just punched me in the face? How hard did he hit me?

He seemed to be looking at me too, with very nice dark eyes. My hands were held over my head, and I smirked.

"This is kind of hot." I admitted, and his face went red as he punched me again, this time successfully knocking me out.