Our Dance

Chapter Two {It's You, Me and Choas, Honey.}

HERE IS YOUR WARNING ABOUT THE SMUT AND VERY CRUDE LANGUAGE!

IT'S RIGHT HERE

IN THIS CHAPTER. SO PLEASE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE IT, PLEASE GO TO THE NEXT CHAPTER OR OTHER CHAPTERS.

However, if you're not bothered by it...I hope you enjoy it.

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After a long stressful meeting, finally, Vanoss looked at the men in the room with stern red eyes. The young man let out an enraged sigh. He placed his hands on the hardwood table, his voice with a dominating and indisputable authority. His wine eyes surveyed everyone in the group, finally ceasing and scrutinizing the situation.

"At eighteen hundred, we ALL meet back here, then head out. No questions asked."

The leader watched as everyone in the room gave a quick nod.

Vanoss nodded back to the group and shifted his insidious wine color eyes to the abnormally tall Irishman next to him. The taller man let out a whine as the shorter man quietly walked up to him. Vanoss turned slightly away only to draw out a hidden pocket knife from his back pocket.

"Stay still."

Then started to rip away the duck tape. Piece by painful piece, finally getting to the one on the mouth. Vanoss, with malice, smirked down at the towering Irishman.

"Anything smart to say."

"Mucf fou."

"Ah, Ah, bad choice, bitch."

Vanoss grabs the metallic tape that covers the man's mouth. Acknowledging his mistake too late as Nogla's lavender eyes widen in horror. He practically let out a shout of pain as the tape gradually yanked off bruised lips.

"Ow! God damn it! That fucking hurt ye bastard!"

"Ah, quit your bitching. Be lucky I had some patience left for your dumbass."

Vanoss rolled his eyes, annoyed as he finished cutting choppy lines of ducktape from the grumpy man. Making the giant man rise as he was released from his bindings. Nogla got up from his chair, then stretched out his achy body. He turned his eyes towards Terroriser. Lavender eyes scowled at the scientist.

"Traitor."

The cyborg just scoffs at the comment.

The taller Irishman let out a reckless hiss from the sound of tapping the essential paperwork, for the upcoming mission, against the table to straighten them out. The man knew his fellow Irishman was ignoring him on purpose.

"Hey, I'm talking to you, robot."

"Actually, cyborganic being, thank you very much."

"More like a backstabber to me."

Terroriser picked up paperwork and glimpsed up at the taller man anticipating the other man to start a fight with him. Or worst, his partner. He expires out a breath to calm his nerves.

"How am I, a traitor?"

"Could've helped a fellow Irishman out."

"Absolutely not. I'm not going down stupidity for your, friend."

"Could have pulled out your doctor needles too, I don't know, shoot Scotty or Vanoss?"

"And to be duck tape to a chair like you and Scott. I think not."

"You're a bitch."

Terroriser was about to give back a sharp-tongue comment until he felt the warmth of a large hand on his shoulder. The two Irishmen looked behind the short scientist and saw that it was Moo. The older man's ruby eyes shifted cruelty as he snapped an insulting bit at the other taller Irishman.