Wild Side [h.s au]

Chapter 5

"Monthly delivery?" Alex asks. "I'm sure there's a period joke in there somewhere. . ." he mutters and I kick his leg under the table while Louis laughs, coughing lightly.

"Well, yeah, how do you expect us to live for another month? We get our supplies once a month," Niall explains. "We have very good connections with deserter groups living in the North."

"Yet no one grows weed," Louis deadpans, sighing heavily.

"I feel you," I blurt out without realising, noticing all eyes are on me now. "What, sixteen-year-old me loved it."

"Anywaaay, today we'll go scouting earlier so we can be like surprise bitches--" Liam starts when H clears his throat.

"Liam, do not share classified information with the people who don't belong here," he warns him, glancing at Alex and me.

Everyone goes silent before Liam mutters a quiet "yes, sir".  The sudden change in the atmosphere hits me like whiplash, my stomach churning.  H stands up abruptly, a deep scowl etched on his face as his eyes flick back and forth between Alex and me, clearly sending us some kind of silent warning. He then straightens his posture and walks out of the room.

I understand why doesn't he trust us and I don't blame him, but I can't help but feel bothered. His behaviour comes strictly from his prejudice toward us.  We'll have to work extra hard to prove ourselves and not mess up or we might get kicked out. David has promised us protection as long as we stay out of trouble, so that means even more effort.

"Don't worry about him, he's rude in the morning. . . and most of the day actually, but really, he's a sweetheart once you get to know him," Niall tells us. I only smile weakly and we continue to eat our meals in silence.

. . . .

"I'm starting to think you're only good at throwing knives," Tori stares down at me, her hands on her hips. "You can do better than ten push-ups."

"Push-ups are not my thing," I defend as I lie on my back on the mat, not bothering to move. "Also, I'm slightly out of shape, so I rely on my knives and guns to save my ass. Push-ups can only kill me, not save me."

"You're impossible to train," she says and sighs, lowering herself onto the mat next to me. "You know, you're supposed to follow my orders since you're new here, right? But I like you, so I'm letting it slide."

"I'm not good with following orders, anyway," I reply, smiling. "Do you ever go to missions? Or are you strictly a trainer? I don't understand how things work here."

"No, each of us gets different tasks every week. One week you train, the other you guard the base in shifts, and the third you go on missions."

"Everything is so organised here," I note. "So many rules to follow." Or break in my case.

"H came up with the system and it's working great for us."

"What is his role here? I mean, David is the leader, yet everyone also follows H."  I've been wondering about it for a while, I've never encountered more than one leader of a base, if I can even call him that.  Granted, there are always people closest to the leader, people who everyone respects for certain reasons, but the leader is still the one making all the decisions.

Tori clears her throat uncomfortably. "It's a bit complicated."

I nod, deciding to drop the subject since I know when some kind of line has been crossed. "Alright, I need to punch stuff," I say as I stand up. "I need either a sparring partner or a punching bag."

"There are plenty of training rooms outside with punching bags," she says as she stands up. "All the rings are taken, besides everyone is busy looking at Liam and Louis who are fighting." She laughs, pointing behind me.

I turn my head, an amusing sight of Louis dodging Liam's punches coming into my view.  When Louis delivers a punch to Liam's jaw, he stands on his tippy toes so he can match his height, shouting "fight me" in his face. I can't help but laugh, I wish I had a camera.

"As much as this is amusing, I'll go find an available training room," I announce, slowly making my way out of the room.  The hallway is spacious, plenty of rooms coming into my sight, sounds of exercise machines clattering echoing around me. I start checking the rooms one by one, realising that all of them are taken. I prefer working out alone without any distractions.  I finally stumble upon a closed training room, my hand reaching to open the door and peer inside cautiously. It's very neat and empty unlike the others, stashed with a few water bottles and clean white towels. Bingo.

Once I enter inside, I walk toward a shelf stocked with training gloves, teeth protectors, and other similar items, my hand grabbing a pair of gloves. They're a tad too big for my hands, but it'll do.  My feet carry me toward the centre of the room where a big black punching bag is hanging. I smile and crane my neck to the left then to the right, finally taking a swing and punching the bag.  I completely lose myself in training, releasing all of my pent up energy as minutes slowly tick by.

"Hell no, get out," H's voice booms behind me, startling me.

My body turns, my chest heaving. "Excuse me?" The sight of him standing shirtless with his black shirt in his bandaged hand surprises me, my eyes shamelessly scanning his body.  A silver cross neckless I haven't noticed before is hanging around his neck, falling between his two swallow tattoos inked under his clavicles.  His torso and arms are filled with tattoos of all designs and sizes, leaving a few patches of his skin untouched. His black sweatpants are hanging lowly on his hips, revealing a band of his boxers underneath.

"Wow, I bet I'd be naked if you could strip me with your eyes," H remarks. "This is my personal training room," he continues, eyeing me. "Wait. . . you did not use my towel and drink my water, what the fuck."

"My bad," I shrug as I finally look him in the eyes, my fingers curling around the bottle on the floor beside me, my hand bringing it to my mouth and I take a swig. "Oh, I'm sorry. Want some?"

He grits his teeth, his eyebrows pulling in a deep frown. "Don't play with me, soldier," he says, taking a step closer. "Who even are you? Why are you here? What are your intentions?"

Oh, so that's the problem. "David explained the situation to you, no need to be paranoid. I'm not a psychopath, I just love knives." I pull my lips in a fake smile.

"Funny, I love guns and what can they do to people."

"Too bad you don't have one. Unlike me, I always carry a knife," I admit. It's a habit of mine ever since I was a little girl, it made me feel safe, and it also helped me get out of many dangerous situations alive.

My statement seems to surprise him, but he recovers quickly. "Hm, I'll remember that for future references," he says, his tongue sliding over his pierced lower lip.

"Should I be scared?" A challenging smile is forcing its way to my lips, but I bite on them to prevent it.

"Terrified," he says and I swear I see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Go find another room, soldier."

"Yes, sir," I reply, making sure to leave the towel and the bottle in the room before I walk out.