League of Assassins

Chapter 5- Did you just...

"No."

"But you promised!" He whines, like a 5 year old.

"Too bad." I deadpan.

"It'll get you out of the hospital!"

Christopher, as I mentioned, had arrived earlier today in my sort-of-prison. He, obviously, wanted me to go clubbing with him today, something about a grand open and and that stuff.

Unfortunately, the Commander had put 2 guards out in front for my "protection". Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to care that 3 months ago I almost died of dehydration in Africa.

Bipolar, I tell you.

But, if going willingly into a room full of stupid, drunk people meant getting out of here....

"Fine." I mutter.

His face brightens and he starts to cheer when I cut him off-

"But-" I say smugly, "-you owe me. A lot."

And his face finally goes back to an annoyed expression.

Success.

After an hour of bickering, mainly me, we finally were ready. I was wearing a dark blue shirt, black skinny jeans, and a dark maroon jacket. Chris was wearing black pants and a grey shirt. Chris had knocked out the guards as I was getting ready, so it was all clear.

Chris, for a really stupid reason, thought it would be cool if we showed up in a bike.

I think only one of us will be sober, and that won't be you. No way am I carrying you home on a bike.

With my so very persuasive argument, me punching him, we took the car. Soon enough, we pulled up to a nightclub. Judging from here, the line is long, and the club is packed. To my distaste, Chris managed to score a VIP tag, and we were let in right away.

We swiftly made it through the number of dancing bodies to the bar. Chris ordered a vodka shot, while I took the role as designated driver.

Chris got drunk after a couple shots, and started yelling and dancing like the immature idiot he was.

And still is.

I quietly scanned the bar, searching for the real reason I came here.

In the data I acquired, it showed that Alex Fog frequents this certain club. If I manage to get a feel of his world now, it will be much easier for me to take care of him later.

No, this is not stalking.

Technically.

I hear an uproar in the middle of the crowd, and I decide to check it out. As I get closer, I begin to hear chants.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

I see two, obviously drunk, guys fighting. I roll my eyes and move toward them.

I sigh deeply as I pry Chris off of the poor guy. Security suddenly shows up and drags Chris and the other guy out. I follow them silently.

They throw them to the ground and quickly assume their normal posts. I glare at the hunched figure of Chris.

"A brawl? That's your idea of a fun night?" I accuse Chris.

He mumbles a sorry before wobbling to his feet. I sigh and support him to the car. He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the seat. I buckle in his belt and move towards the other guy.

By the time I got there, another man is there with him too, though his face is a shadow because of the poor lighting.

"Hey," I say, grabbing the sober man's attention, "sorry about my friend. He's drunk."