CHICAGO BULLOCK (MXM)

Fifteen

Chicago's feet hardly touched the ground as he hurried to his apartment. Not taking in the ice cold air of Brooklyn. All he wanted was to be safe and secure in the confides of his place. He fumbled with his apartment key, slightly struggling to open the door. He knew he needed to calm down or else he will draw unnecessary attention to himself. But he just couldn't. He was still high in adrenaline to maintain any sort of composure.

As soon as he was inside his apartment Chicago rushed to his bedroom. He still could not calm down, his mind all jumbled with all the things he needed to do. He tossed the backpack on his bed as he started to strip all his clothes including his boxers, shoving them in a refuse bag.  He was literally jogging to his bathroom, turning the shower on before sliding inside. His limbs were shaking and wobble.

He let out a sigh as he felt himself relax under the running water that cascaded down his back, flexing with every tickle that made it down there. Mia's body lying on the concrete motionless suddenly penetrated his memory. Chicago clenched his fists as his frame shook with grief, guilt and anger. No one was meant to die. Igor's voice commanding him to stop, almost made him lose balance. What was Igor doing in Washington? The thought of him tossing the grenade almost made Chicago tumble to the ground due to how his knees grew weak immediately. Igor could be dead. A shaky breath left his lips.

He grabbed the soap and sponge trying hard to scrab the memory of tonight off his body. Trying to block all images and voices that were just somehow finding a free way in his head. Only now did Chicago think of Igor. How he would have felt if he actually died. Would he be happy? Would he grieve for him? Would he be too angry to give a shit that he's dead? What would have happened if tonight one of Igor's bullets killed him?

Chicago groaned, irritably turning the shower off, grabbing a towel off the rail and drying himself off. He quickly applied lotion to his body, pulling on some clothes hastily. Then his focus shifted to the bag pack. He grabbed it off the bed, pulling the zipper open and sighed heavily when he saw the file folded in there. He pulled it out and something else fell to the ground. Chicago's eyes scanned around till he saw the silver USB drive. Mia's drive that she stole from the Embassy. He picked it up and stared at it wondering what was in it. He'll ask Neo to take a look at it later.

He rushed to his safe, taking the painting down that revealed the black metallic box. Quickly pressing the code he shoved the file and USB drive inside, shutting the safe and placing the painting back on the wall, adjusting it position. Once that was done, he grabbed Mia's backpack and the plastic with his clothes, grabbing a lighter in one of the kitchen cabinets before leaving his apartment.

He was much calmer now as he walks to the nearby alley. The night has escaped giving way to the morning. But people were still probably getting ready for work or getting their few remain hours of rest. He threw all the possession he was holding in a trashcan, before lighting the whole thing up. He stepped back as the flame grew bigger and the heat radiating off it burning into Chicago slightly. Once he was satisfied he left the alley as smoothly as he had came to it.

All Chicago wanted now was sleep. He needed to sleep and forget about all that unfolded. And that is exactly what he did when he got back to his apartment. He dozed off. His worries and panics were gone.

In the afternoon Chicago got up, ready to give Vincent what he paid him to do. Or still to pay him? Grabbing a brown coat, Chicago stepped out on the drizzling roads of Brooklyn. Trust Brooklyn for it absurd weather.

He met up with Vincent at the Catholic church. His grin widening when he saw Chicago, his eyes dropping to the folder hinged in the man's arms.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down," he cooed his eyes glowing with pride.