Love and War - (Book 1)

Chapter 6 (Part 1 - Scheming)

Lucas wakes up in that desolate room. He attempts at recollecting everything that happened the day before. It was all blank. He begins tracing his steps further back into his memories, going as far back as six months; revisiting every painful moment, all that he remembers. Suffering the torture day after day. Undeserved beatings, then, to top it all, that moment when he returned home. 'No! Stop there... I mustn't revisit that day; those awful memories,' Lucas freaks. He jumps up and out of the bed. He starts pacing across the room. Hastily at first, then he begins to slow down. Frantic breathing. Panting. Fearing. He gradually collapses to the floor, falling into a dark place.

Lucas lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. So wooden. It didn't look very safe. Lucas imagined himself a builder, a different man, and fixing this ceiling. Making it more appealing for whatever reason. Just to look pretty. To become better. As he wished for better things in his life, he rolls on to his left side and closes his eyes. Not wanting to fantasise about anything. Just accepting the darkness. Accepting it for what it is. What it will be... to him... one day. 'No! Mustn't go there, either. Too dark. Too bad. Something nicer... something-something better. C'mon... something, please!' Lucas gets up once more.

This time, he distracts himself by staring outside the window. A general looking window, nothing extraordinary. He looks outside. Everything was just as dead outside as it was inside and inside him. No people. No cars. Nothing. "I suppose this room is just gonna keep getting better and better, huh?" he says to no one in particular. "I do wonder what did happen yesterday, though. Perhaps someone has the answers to my many questions. I say "many", but I suppose the only question is "what happened yesterday", right?" he says aloud once again.

He turns away from the window. That window which holds nothing but isolation and reflection. He turns to the door and ventures onwards, for answers. Hoping someone out there, one of the lifeless junkies, would hold an answer for him.

-Alexander-

The day before this was havoc. Tearing the strong friendship between Alexander and Alastair asunder. Forever. Jonathan had to explain what his ridiculing riddles meant after their discussion. Alex never felt so broken. There was Jonathan, however. Somebody on whom he could rely. Jonathan has never really failed him before. And Alex wishes he never will.

The day before may have destroyed what could have been between Alexander and Alastair, yet it all but built something stronger for Alexander and Jonathan. Their bond is now ever stronger.

Yet now, Alex is unsure of what to do with Alastair. Jonathan advises for him to keep Alastair alive. Alex wants blood. He is yet to inquire anyone else on the matter. For now, the secret remains with Alex and Jonathan, and Jonathan explains it must be kept this way. "If anybody else finds out... then they'll kill him themselves. As much as I know you'd love that, Alex, we need all the fighters we can get at this point," he explained. He informed him that he could go and have sexual relations with himself in response, however agreed and understood.

Alexander decides to discuss with Alastair for his reasoning behind his intentions. He goes to where he's locked up. One of the two men guarding opens it for him and nods. Alex steps inside. "Alright, Sir? Come to have a chat, have ya?" he asks, being facetious.
"Not that I wanted to, but here I am. Talking to you. You asshole. I am here to ask you why. Why do it? Not that you managed to, and over my dead body will you ever-"
"Quite literally, Alex," Alastair chuckles.
"Yeah. But what makes you think you could ever murder me and then take my place as leader of the Military?" Alex questions, perplexed.
"I'd find a way. Perhaps I still will. Have you figured out the rest of my riddles? Do you not remember it?"
"I remember them well. You're not getting out of this alive. You fucking know that, right?" Alexander threatens.
"Oh, but I will. Jonathan told you to keep me alive, didn't he?" Alastair smirks.
"He did. But that doesn't mean that's exactly what's gonna happen. I am in control here. Not Jonathan." Alastair seemed to find that particularly amusing.
"Oh, and I bet he used that lame excuse "we're low on people"! Who's really in control here? Are ya really sure it's you? Because you don't have me convinced."
"No, no, no, no. You're trying to break apart me and Jonathan. I won't have it. I'm smarter than you think. Jonathan is and always will be my right-hand man. The one guy I can forever trust here because he has never failed me!"
"And that's not suspicious at all. I'm not trying to give away too much here, but your men... some of them aren't with you at all. I'm all for the Military, trust me. I just think you're the wrong man for it. Call me a megalomaniac or any other insult that comes off your idiot head, but I do want the glory for myself. Don't worry, I'll make sure you have a nice funeral. Some statues. Lots of tributes and dedications. And I'll have your whole fucking family murdered, too." Alexander glares right at him. Right into his eyes. Both of their eyes are burning with fury; both can see the other's rage.

Alexander lands a punch straight into his chest. Smack! Alastair and the chair both fall to the ground. Whack! Alex begins rapidly punching him in his face, causing bruises, blood and scars that will be noticeable for a substantial amount of time. "You wanna fucking kill my family!? You wanna murder my sister!? I will rape whatever cunt tries to hurt her, and then will do so much more!" Alex punches him several more times before Jonathan enters.

"Alex, get off him!" Jonathan commands, showing authority and force. "Alex!" he shouts, much louder than before. "Get the fuck off of him, now."
"Sure." Alex gets up, knuckles bruised and bloody. Alastair begins to chuckle to himself once more.
"I did ask you if you were sure who the real leader was here, didn't I?" The two leave him to laugh in hysteria.

The door is closed and Alastair is left guarded once again. "I know he shouldn't be trusted and it would be best if he dies, but he does want the Rebels dead. That's an expense we can't allow to go to waste. I know he wants to kill you also, but having him around, under close watch, is what's best."
"The asshole said he'll kill my family. My sister... she should never be hurt. Not Holly! I will not see her harmed."
"As any good brother is, you are so right. And as always, I keep a close eye on her, too. She is safe. Doesn't mean she dislikes causing havoc in the streets with the Followers, but all the same," Jonathan keeps Alex updated.
"Good, good. She's just like her older brother. Except not as power-hungry or sadistic."
"Quite," Jonathan smiles. "So you're fine with Alastair being alive. I know for certain that there's no way he can harm your sister, but as a soldier fighting for the Military, you're fine with it?" he asks.
"I think so. Sure, why not? Apart from he may shoot me in the back of my head, but I guess I'll make sure he's in front of me at all times," Alex suggests.

-Lucas-

Leaving that room felt right. It was definitely a smart move. Perhaps the smartest move he'd ever made in this house. And he was now about to find out how many more stupid decisions were made in the house, concerning the day before.

Searching for somebody who was hopefully alive, or at least awake, Lucas walks around the house in search of somebody to answer his question.

He looks into the bathroom, and on the sink was what appeared to be cocaine. He hoped that that was not what occurred yesterday. Yet that's all he can think is what happened. He begins to panic. Moving around on the spot, looking for someone. Anyone. Somebody, just one... person. The drug dealer. He was there. And know that he oughtn't get high on his own supply, so he questions him.

"What was it that I did yesterday?" Lucas asks, anxious.
"Shit, you look pretty fucked up. You better stay here a few days 'fore you go roaming around and tell the fuzz all 'bout this place and me," he replies.
"Answer... my fucking question," Lucas demands, concerned. The drug dealer need not answer in speech, as Lucas had left the bathroom door open. All he needed was to look at the bathroom, indicating to, and nod his head.

Lucas didn't believe it. It had gotten too much. He knows now that he has gone too far. Lucas wants to stop, but he believes this is the best and only distraction from his depressing life. And it's a great way to get James' attention. Knowing he is making too many mistakes in his journey, Lucas decides to stick with this, for it is all he has left.