Reagan’s POV
Arriving at the port, I immediately sensed something was off.
Too little guards. The place was eerily quiet.
"Something feels off, sir," one of my men spoke.
I guess I’m not the only one.
"Split up."
"We can’t just leave you with no guards," my right-hand man spoke.
"Who said I was alone?"
He looked confused but didn’t question me.
That was why I kept him around. He knew when to ask questions and, more importantly, when not to.
"Move out," he commanded the others, leaving only four men behind me.
"Come out, Atlas. We’re too old to be playing hide and seek."
I heard a light chuckle as his figure came into view.
"And who said I was hiding?"
"Been a while, hasn’t it?"
"I wasn’t aware we were here to reminisce."
"Still as sharp-tongued as ever, I see," he laughed.
"Where’s my shipment?"
"Straight to the point."
"Atlas."
"Oh, stop calling my name like that... turns me on. Shame you rejected me back then. We’d have made one hell of a power couple."
My men exchanged confused looks before quickly returning to their stoic expressions. They must’ve been new.
"Talk."
"I had nothing to do with your missing shipment."
"One would assume they got tampered with. How’d you explain knowing it was missing?"
"You know how fast news spreads, ReaRea."
"Don’t call me that," I warned.
"The big bad wolf."
"Something tells me you’re behind the disappearance, if not the reason. So I’ll ask again—"
"Could you tell what’s telling you to accuse me to also give me a chance? I’ve been celibate for you, you know? Well, on Saturdays, but you get the drift."
I could feel my fist clench.
"And besides... who’d want a shipment full of Whites? Boring."
"Excuse me?"
"Oops."
"Atlas!"
I stepped toward him.
He immediately darted behind one of his men, only peeking out once every gun in the area had been raised.
"Fucking unbelievable."
"Tell your men to lower their guns, ReaRea."
"My men would have nothing to respond to if yours weren’t raised first."
The speaker in my ear crackled to life.
"S-sir... they’re att—"
Static.
A metallic clang echoed somewhere behind the warehouses.
My finger tightened around the trigger.
Atlas smiled.
"Sir! They’re attacking!"
Gunshots rang out in the distance as Atlas’ playful expression disappeared.
"You motherfucker!"
I pulled out my gun.
"Oh..."
A grin spread across his face.
"The big bad wolf is back."
"Be careful, boys. He’ll huff, he’ll puff, and he’ll blow your house down."
The last part was said dryly and void of emotion.
Bodies collapsed one after another as gunfire echoed across the docks. Blood spread across the concrete, turning the once grey floor into a dark crimson trail.
Silence.
A faint trail of blood stained the concrete.
I smiled.
"There you are."
I followed it deeper between the rows of shipping containers.
The gunfire behind me grew quieter with every step until all that remained were distant echoes and the sound of dripping water somewhere overhead.
"You know..." Atlas’ voice echoed through the darkness.
"...for someone trying to kill me, you’re taking your sweet time."
I stopped.
"Come out."
"No."
"Come out, you motherfucker! Scared of a few gunshots?"
"As long as you’re the one shooting..." His voice echoed from somewhere ahead. "...then yes."
I smirked.
"So you are hiding."
"No."
A chuckle echoed through the darkness.
"I’m just standing somewhere you can’t find me."
I followed the sound of his voice between the towering shipping containers, stepping over bodies as I went.
"Atlas."
Silence.
The bastard.
Then—
"Yoo-hoo."
I turned sharply toward the sound, only to find another empty passage.
"Still trying to find me with my voice?" he called, amusement dripping from every word. "Oldest trick in the book, ReaRea."
I said nothing.
Instead, I smiled.
He was still talking.
Which meant he was still making the same mistake.
Another laugh echoed.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, listening.
Left.
Closer this time.
I rounded the next container just as a shadow darted past.
"There you are."
Atlas cursed under his breath and broke into a run.
"You know..." he shouted over his shoulder, "...I’ve always loved it when you chased me."
I caught up to him in seconds.
Grabbing the back of his coat, I yanked him off his feet and slammed him into the side of a container hard enough to dent the metal.
"There he is," he laughed through the blood pooling at the corner of his mouth. "I was wondering when you’d stop talking."
I drove my fist into his jaw.
He stumbled back, grinning like a lunatic.
"That’s more like it."
He swung first.
I ducked beneath it, buried another punch into his ribs, then drove my knee into his stomach.
He doubled over, coughing.
"...Okay..." he wheezed, spitting blood onto the concrete.
"...That one actually hurt."
I grabbed him by the collar before he could recover.
"You don’t get to run."
He smiled.
"Oh..."
He reached slowly into his jacket.
"...Who said I was?"
Bang.
"Ah, fuck!"
"You still scream the same."
"Still chasing voices?" he laughed, grinding his boot into my wound.
"Mmn... But it worked," I spat, smirking.
"Wait, what?"
"Hahaha! Hahaha! You got me," he laughed wildly, holding his wounded shoulder.
Then he proceeded to look behind me.
"You fucking traitor."
Bang.
"Keep talking and you’ll end up with three bullet wounds. Besides, we aren’t owned by anyone. We work for who pays."
"Smoke, let me have a taste."
A woman stepped out from behind one of the containers.
Atlas’ smile disappeared.
"...Mist too?"
At the sight of her, his eyes seemed to widen in obvious fear. Smoke might leave you alive, but Mist will leave you scarred.
"How about we have this conversation later?" he said before half-running, half-limping away.
"God! Fuck," I groaned, with a hand to my wound.
I turned back to see they were already gone.
"Good. No need for goodbyes. Their job’s finished."