#Murkoff -actually- showed up to crash the party

[demcnsinmymind]

walriding​:

      Though he played it cool and cavalier most of the time, something about Murkoff had a way of pissing Miles off and making him feel small all at the same time. It’s not just the fact that they want their pet project back – it’s the fact that they’ll burn through vast resources to get it. Money, lives, to Murkoff it’s all expendable. And Miles can pretend like he’s been making headway all he wants, but they’re breathing hot down his neck and the moment they figure out how to get a noose around him, they will.

      He catches the water bottle but manages to fumble the whiskey, returning an unamused expression back towards Lance as he tosses them unopened onto the rumpled bed. “I’m not desperate enough for your gas station nip bottles, thanks.” Wouldn’t do much to take the edge off, anyway. Thanks to the Swarm he metabolizes everything too quickly to have any fun.

      From where Miles was standing he couldn’t see much of the outside. The midday sun was bright – Murkoff was confident enough not to rely on shadows all the time – and the curtains were half drawn, leaving him with a view of little more than the hoods of a few cars parked by the strip of rooms. At Lance’s prompt for business talk, Miles frowned, his rising panic momentarily surmounted by annoyance. “Just because your head’s too far up your own ass to connect the fucking dots–”

      A knock, then. Not on the door of Preston’s room but on one nearby, maybe two rooms down at most. Miles swallows thickly. A second knock comes a moment later. Closer, like it’s just on the other side of the wall.

      “Shit, that better be housekeeping.”

Just...what the fuck is this guy’s problem? How the fuck is his head up his own ass just because he’s asking a simple fucking question? He’d done his fair research. He’d fucking lived this shit back in ‘48, so how dare this asshole s....

He can’t get any of that out. All he has to show for it in the moment is a very angry look on his face, mouth half open. But before he gets a word out, there it is already. Knocking. Not just once. But twice. And just like that, Lance’s eyes are widening. His heart rate quadrupling.

“I don’t do housekeeping. I got the fucking hanger on the door and everything” Lance hisses through gritted teeth, shooting a half panicked, half angry look at said door. Only to spare one short furious look for Miles.

“I swear if you brought any of these fucks to my doorst...”

And there it is. Another knock. On his door. Loud. Roaring. Making the entire thing shake. Forcing him to jump back a bit, startled.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

“Get out” Lance hisses, finally, looking away from the door and back over to Miles. “What are you still standing there for?! There here. For you. So Go. Bail” he is all but mouthing now, silently. Then, he is on his way over to the other already, so he can try to shove him towards the window. Truth be told, he is still holding a grudge all thanks to the head up his ass comment from before. Thinks that maybe, the fucker doesn’t even deserve any of the shit that has immediately sprung to his mind the second he’d heard that knock. But that is just the thing.

For whatever goddamn reason, deserving or not. Wanted or not. His first instinct still is to spring into immediate action. To fucking help. Instead of bailing all by himself and handing the fucker right over to whoever’s waiting on the other side. Panicked eyes still fixed on the door.

“I don’t know jackshit about your freak show, but I do know mine and let me tell you, fucker is already on it with a vengeance. It’s not gonna let anyone do shit to me, so that’ll probably buy you some time. They’re not after me, they’re afer you. So get your ass outta here.“ he tells the other, still mouthing and whispering it. Can’t help a follow up comment in the end. “And keep your friends away from me while you’re a...”

In that exact same moment, there is another series of rapid knocking, louder and louder, faster and faster, making the door shake in its hinges, until it’s suddenly giving in already. Bursting wide open with a roar, only to reveal...

No one. Just an empty hallway outside.

“What the...” Lance curses, hand placed on his chest as if he’d just been trying to keep his heart from jumping right out of it from all that fright. The door is still swinging in its hinges, slowing down with each movement, letting out a pitiful creaaaaak each time. And it certainly takes Lance a good while until he has the guts to approach it. Touch it. Stop it. Then look up and approach the now wide open doorway itself. Probably a stupid idea, horror movie cliche, darwin award type of deal, but he’s counting on his demonic airbag here. Needs to sneak a peek outside to figure out what the fuck just happened.

And sure enough. He’s not facing a little red dot on his forehead. Or any mercs, waiting, then guns blazing in the hallway. Just a couple of the other motel guests from the rooms next to his, peeking out of their doors as well, just as confused by all that previous knocking. From someone invisible, it seems. And then, only then, does it finally go click in Lance’s head.

People who want to murder you don’t fucking knock beforehand. They come in guns blazing. Ready for the kill.

Shi...

“Gotcha” his mouth is saying and he starts chuckling to himself, as his hand reaches for the door and pulls it closed shut behind himself again. His jokester of a hitchhiker makes him reenter the motel room again, looking at Miles with a surprisingly strained grin, followed by an almost angry frown.

“Really got your heart racing there, didn’t I. Or...would’ve. if yours were still beating. This one still does though. And I’d like to keep it that way. So I suggest you do as dear Lance said and get out. We all know that the next time this door bursts wide open, it’s not going to be me. It’s going to be your friends. And I’m afraid neither of us is in the mood for that.”