AXEL

Henridge

Thick clumps of blood lined the back of Henridge's throat, his forehead throbbing as he stared at the red stains falling down the glass pane of the kiosk. Rage consumed him, his whole body shaking with pure anger and the veins on his forehead were pulsing along with his heavy breaths. His eyes followed Axel's figure in the reflection of the glass as he left the compound and his lip curled up, a growl escaping him, the thought of smashing Axel's face in with his steel capped boots.

Henridge smeared the red down the glass with the palm of his hand and he clenched his fist into a ball, striking the kiosk pane with his knuckles over and over again. He didn't stop until his knuckles were red raw, torn and numb, the tingling sensation distracting him from his humiliation.

His mother always warned him that one day he would choke on his own pride.

Clenching his jaw, he winced at the tight pull on his nose and he spat the blood from his mouth to gravel, wiping his chin with the hem of his T-shirt. With trembling hands he lightly touched the bridge of his nose and he sucked in a breath at the swollen flesh he prodded in pain. He couldn't tell if it was broken, he'd have to wait till the swelling died down but the whole scene made him think of a particular red head.

Henridge after all had received his first broken nose years ago, all thanks to a thirteen year old Kit.

He squeezed his eyes shut and placed one hand on the glass to hold him self up, his head titled to the side, shaking as if he was trying to rid himself of a memory.

Kit's high pitched shrieks echoed in his mind, taunting him and the red just flooded into his memory, her white toothy grin smiling through so much blood. You're a fucking pussy.

No matter how many times he tried to replace her laughter with her screams of pain, it was never enough to forget her laughing at him. Red suited her well, she would just spit out her blood and carry on talking till she welcomed her own death but Henridge could never bring himself to finish the job.

The dirt that he shovelled over her unconscious body still plagued him with nightmares, ones where she'd claw her way out of hell to torture him like he always did to her but he knew that she could never defeat him. Henridge was always taller, heavier and built like a fucking brick house. No matter how many punches or stabs she landed she could never kill him but then again there was always the echoes of bullets leaving a gun.

He spun around to be met with silence, not one security guard left their stations or walked the grounds. Everyone around him had disappeared, the usual occurrence when he was about to explode like a dirty bomb. He stormed over to the main building of the compound, yanking the doors open and slamming them behind him, all eyes avoiding him as he walked the halls.

The dim yellow of the bulbs above him highlighted his twisted features, his slightly crooked nose that dripped with gore and it darkened his green eyes to match exactly what he thought, dark ones.

He needed revenge.

He ran down the stairs towards the lair of technology, rows of tables piled with laptops and computers, books neatly ordered on shelves at the back with filing cabinets to the left.

Henridge's eyes narrowed at the skinny guy who was hunched over the table trying to fix a mobile phone and he stopped beside him, his shadow looming over the guy who tilted his head back to look up at him. The first thing the guy noticed was the torn clenched knuckles and as his eyes slowly travelled up to his face he had to bite back his gasp.

"Where...Is...She?" Henridge spoke through gritted teeth and he placed one hand on the back of the guys chair and the other on the table, closing him in and leaning into his face. He was so close that the guy could feel his uneven breaths against his skin and he tried to lean away from the goon in front of him.

"Who?" He said lowly and he flinched at Henridge's low grunt, his biceps tensing as he wrapped his hand around the back of the chair.

"Don't play stupid with me Des!" Henridge yelled and he grabbed Des' hair in his hands, shoving his head into the table and he groaned in pain as he smacked in to the cold wood.

A few people around them glanced up in their direction but they went straight back to their work when Henridge glared at them and he scanned the room to see everyone turn a blind eye. This was the main tech area and most of the lads were lanky guys that had little to no muscle, the type that didn't want to get into a fight but they were still valuable workers to the goons. Henridge was friendly with two and they had taught him many things about tracking or surveillance, which came in handy every time Kit ran away.

"I don't know where she is! I promise," Des shouted back and he clamped his eyes shut as Henridge tightened his hold on him, twisting his hair to pull his head back to look at him.

"Well you better find out! Find her and do not warn her about my arrival," he snapped letting go of him harshly and he ruffled Des' dark hair to neaten it.

"Why me?" Des stuttered as he watched Henridge start to walk away but he stopped at his question and turned around with a smirk, the dimples appearing on his cheeks and he swiped his tongue along his lip.

"She trusts you."

Des gulped, his throat burning at the thought of betraying Kit and he prayed that she covered her tracks, so that he would have proof that he found nothing. He simply nodded his head, if he uttered the words of an agreement he would never forgive himself but he had to collect some basic research to give Henridge. Des wiped the sweat from his hands on the leg of his jeans and he shakily went back to fixing the phone in front of him, his trembling breaths shook his whole body with fear.

"Good. Don't fuck this up," Henridge snapped and turned away to exit the lair, his eyes squinting at the harsh glare of the light hitting him as he walked into the corridor.

Henridge's boots slapped lazily against the marble tiles, his body finally feeling tired and he rushed through the last stretch of the corridor, swinging Danvers office door open. He scrunched his nose up in disgust but groaned at the pain surging through it as he tried to relax his face muscles. All he could smell was stale booze and cigarettes, his gaze fell on Danvers whose face laid on the desk and the dry blood on his upper lip.

"Shit," he cursed and he slammed his palm against the desk. Danvers shot up from his place, a strip of filter paper stuck to his cheek and he blinked his eyes to focus on Henridge in front of him.

Danvers stood up slowly, hesitantly walking towards Henridge and he reached out to take his chin in his hands, tilting his face to check the damage. He sucked in a breath and shook his head, falling back into his chair.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Cocaine!" Henridge roared as he saw the dust of drugs on the desk and pushed all of the contents sitting on top to the floor. The glass bottles of whiskey smashed to ground and he ripped the drawers out, dumping them on the floor to fish out the cocaine.

"Is she back?" Danvers asked and Henridge froze as he put the last bag of drugs in his pocket. He looked to Danvers, his eyes heavy and he wasn't sure if the man was completely all there with the cocaine in his system.

If he wasn't mistaken it seemed like the old man missed the girl and he looked away from him shaking his head. In a sick and twisted way that was how Henridge felt but he would never admit it.

Kit always left a bad taste in his mouth and it was normally his own blood.

"Axel's going to pay, he might not kill the living but I will and I'll rip him apart," Henridge snapped and he felt Danvers hand rest on his arm in comfort but he shoved him off, the rage was boiling inside of him and he wanted vengeance.

Author note: ;) A chapter dedicated to my favourite sadistic fuck Henridge, hopefully it wasn't too boring and you got to know him a little. Wonder what Kit has to do with them... Kit and Axel will be back in the next chapter!