Red Star

After The Fire Part 7

Sweat on his brow and blood on his lip.

Not his blood.

Probably not his sweat either.

He wipes the sleep (not that he actually got any) out of his eyes and and sits up.

It's too quiet.

He reaches his hand under his pillow to retrieve one of his guns, and tentatively stands, cautiously looking for anything amiss. Finding that no one is actually inside his dingy hotel room, he makes his way to the door, and looks through the eyeglass to investigate why there's an eerie atmosphere.

Something Ralph's learned, is that his instincts are always correct.

He crosses the room to the windows, separates the blinds and sees someone looking right back at him.

The guy's dead before he even raises his gun.

Ralph takes a breath and opens the doors to the balcony. Finds three more guys. Shoots them all, each one with a bullet clean through the eyebrows. Takes one of their phones. Calls the only number registered into the phone. Puts on his best Russian accent.

"He's here, boss! He's shooting everywhere! Where do I go! I have no bullets left!"

The connection dies. They hung up.

For a brief moment, Ralph debates what to do next, until he is interrupted by the sounding of the phone in his hand.

He's sent an address.

As quickly as he can, he collects the little amount of possessions he has and sends on the address to the local authorities, who have been waiting for this text for a while. He exits the hotel and is met by his driver.

"Another neat job, Agent Castano."

Once he's back in America, he goes straight to a bar.

"Double scotch on the rocks," he tells the bartender in a voice that is very unlike his own. "And two-no one packet of peanuts."

"Ah, you must be Ralph." The man next to him says, ruining everything.

He takes the man, who he learns later is called Frank, to his apartment in New York, in fear of being overheard by the wrong person.

The moment the door shuts behind them, Ralph pushes the man against a wall and puts a knife to his throat.

Standard procedure.

"Shit!" The guy panics, reaching to push Ralph away.

"Who the fuck are you and how do you know who I am?"

"I'm Rosa's therapist! I was the one that called you two months ago! I've been trying to find you ever since."

The knife drops.

"Rosa," He breathes, relieved. He stands back from the guy, allowing him to also breathe, before he actually registers what he had said. "Wait, she has a therapist?"

"Yes," Frank nods, looking highly confused. "She was highly traumatised by the events."

"Fuck off, no way," Ralph stands. "Not the Rosa I knew. I thought she was lying."

"That's not why I'm here," Frank says. "I'm here because I wanted to get the explanation Rosa deserves."

Ralph looks torn.

"It's government-classified information, she can't know. She'll try find me and that can't happen."

The therapist punches him straight in the face.