[PREQUEL] (W) ᴜɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ ♗

13| Driver's liscence revoked

'' Are you flexing right now, Alderete?'' Dominic waved him off, as if Trusova were a fly in his face the way he swatted. Dom only let out a chortle in response before slightly pushing his chair back.

'' You wouldn't have remembered or know if I was. Flexing requires standing and muscle... and well,'' He seizes Trusova over, ''Both seem to be out of your capability range—''

The sound of heavy movement dragging across the floor cuts them both. Shortly after, the sound of glass—which I knew was on the counter—fell to the ground, spilling its straw and butter contents along.

Damien calibrates the body onto its back, the light hanging off the ceiling made for that only space to be covered while reflecting off the very few objects in its sight. Turning the corpse, I scrunch my nose as we all round the table in equal division.

Trusova goes to Damien's side, reaching over to pull the collar of the manager's shirt down, exposing the blackstar tattoo.

The large crimson gash shot in the middle of his forehead had been hard to miss. But the question still remains, so amid the silence, all I could have done was ask my friend;

''Where'd you get the gun?'' I ask no one in particular. My gaze remained fixed on the gash, but Alexandre knew it was for him. I heard the wheels beneath his body wail in movement before he sighed.

''Why does that matter? Can I not have one anymore?''I looked up from the man on the table to blondie locks in the far corner. If it weren't for the moon light shining through the transparent windows of the pizzeria, only his hands would have been visible to the eye.

I brought my bottom lip into my mouth, balancing on the ball of my foot anxiously. '' That's not the question I asked,'' My tone had risen an octave or two. I began to realize each agent who hadn't hopped on the conversation were immersing themselves as active spectators.

'' You whipped it out pretty quickly—did you know about any of this?'' I paused as his gaze never leaves mine in a moment's notice.

'' Did Ten give it to you?''

I know it was a stupid question to ask. A nine-millimeter to that caliber could have only lasted so long. The muzzle was scruffy and because of its age,and the absence of a silencer it would have been in need of replacement every few months.

And considering just how badly the underground crossfire  had gotten to him, even as a member of the above-surfaced population not beneath authoritarian orders like we were. Where was the harm in asking where he had gotten it?

Trusova licked his lips, and it was as if all movement had been halted.

But he remained calm, running a tattooed palm in between his thick dirty blonde hair before diverting his eyes towards the ceiling.

'' You'd really think I'd want to remain a victim to the west and the shit they do without having some form of repercussion on me?''  My tongue glided across my teeth as his gaze alternated between each person within the room for a solid two seconds before shifting.

'' Who else would have been stupid enough to give a handicapped person a gun while simultaneously turning their back in their face?'' He doesn't give anyone the floor to speak, instead he continues to hog it to make a point of his words.

'' Ten did give me the gun. '' He paused, his wheelchair shifting with every moment.

'' Your father gave me the resources to protect myself. I was just an innocent bystander who had gotten shot at. The underground conflict between east and west didn't involve me before, but it does now,'' I could have understood where he was coming from.