Kit awoke in a haze of hot and cold.
Already halfway through her fifth cigarette of the morning since arriving in new mexico over three days ago, barely leaving the motel she decided to stay in till she was fully ready to confront her run away father to be.
Renting out a crimson red nineteen sixty-one chevrolet impala convertible she decided to hit the rode once more.
Dreading this quick tobacco run for the traffic was horrendous in New York standards. Made up mostly of Jeeps or pickup trucks, yellow buses an family vans coming back from school drop offs.
She turned onto san felipe street, unaware that is exactly where she was dreading to end up.
Driving down the unpaved rocky sandy road swerving across both lanes, through traffic lights and eventually hitting the curb before stomping on the breaks.
As the convertible felt as it was being pulled to the opposite side of where kit wanted to be. Trying to stay calm while gently apply increasing pressure to her tires so she can maintain control of the vehicle in hope to park to the side and not create more unneeded traffic.
Stepping out, kit pulled over her jackets hood, covering an tucking all her hair inside of it.
Looking around, the houses were mostly built of sun-dried clay bricks with flat and soft, rounded contours and enclosed patios. Different then what she usually saw back home in lousiana aswell dryer an sunnier then shes used to.
She took a gasping breath, knocking on the first door she saw.
Opening was a girl much younger then her, wearing a dark mini dress that flowed in the wind as if it was alive gently pooled above her knees an a red leather jacket.
Paired with long, wavy, auburn hair that was loose around her shoulders, and her face glowed with eyes similar to hers. As if she was looking at a very younger version of herself in the mirror.
"Hi, do you have a jack that I can bo-"
The young girl glared at kit barley for a seconded an slammed the door shut before she could fully ask for a helping hand.
"Fuck me then, I guess." Kit mumbled to herself as she turned back to her car when suddenly a distant shout startled her.
"Hey wait!"
Turning around to a young man with hair strangely similar to hers aswell, with silvery white streaks among raven locks in a blue long sleeve t-shirt stops kit in her place.
"Sorry about my sister," he said. "She doesn't do well with strangers just randomly knocking on the door."
Kit smirked at the somewhat apology. "Her and me both."
"I'm Pietro by the way," They shook hands and introduced themself.
Only kit willingly wouldn't give up her real name in such situations for safety reasons. So she settled on being called Evita St. Reid.
A name she would quite frankly use often when needing to go undercover in certain areas of her expertise.
"-and the moody brunette is wanda." He pointed behind himself to the young rude girl from before peeking out from the curtains.
Kneeling down besides her car, pietro began to investigate. "What happened here? Hit a deer or something" he asked,
"Yeah no," She sighed, leaning onto the car and gazing around herself. "I'm not from around here where the road is manly rocks an ... sand."
"Your a city chick then," he asked as a he stood back up, squinting, the sun so bright it was hard to see clearly. "lights, tall buildings and polluted air." He joked.
Kit chucked at the assumption,
"I would say fifty percent but I'm from the Delacroix, Louisiana, manly water, fresh air an fishes so.."
"-And vampires and the mysticals" he joked.
"And occasionally the best parties an food."
Pietro rolled his eyes as he quickly jogged to his garage in searched for some tools to remove her tire an replace it with the spair she had in the trunk.
Parked inside was a washed out blue nineteen sixty three chevy stepside C-10 pickup.
"Now I don't know about the food part but here we own that title, we didnt get labeled 'the land of enchantment' for nothing" pietro yelled across his lawn towards her.
"The land of enchantment, who would ev-"
Her breath caught as she saw a tall, rather reddish pale man caring a briefcase. He had a thick gingerly colored mustache an connecting beard, made obvious by his green scrubs that signify that he's a surgeon of some kind.
The rather tall lad waved his arms, kit frozen in her place not knowing if she should wave back, not noticing that Pietro was back right behind her waving in response.
"Hey Pietro, what do you got going on here?" He asked.
Kit straightened and moved, breaking contact with them and the car to stand a few feet away.
"Nothing just helping this lady here" Pietro pointed towards kit.
"I could've done it on my own, I just needed the jack is all." Her gaze lifted innocently to him,
"I insisted on helping dad, it's no big deal."
"Dad.. as in father?" She thought to herself. "This wasn't in the file or any of the articles of my .. supposed father."
A gust of wind tossed her hair out of her hoodie, a mixture of ivory white an charcoal strands layed out before them.
He glanced up and met kits gaze with an expression that made her heart throttle into a panic.
"Have we met before? You.. you seem familiar" he squinted.
Quickly pushing her hair back into ther hoodie,
"Like I told your son, I'm not from around here." She nervously smiled while her nails pierced her skin as she held every aching thought an feeling in a fist behind her back.
"You sure?" He asked, walking over to where she stood. "I swear we have."
"I probably have you know, one of those faces" she joked.
Noticing Pietro had twisted on the last lug nut back onto the tire she quickly hopped back into the car before handing him about forty bucks in gratitude for helping her out.
Driving off her emotions crippled her, squeezing the steering wheel as she reaches into her coat pocket for her cell phone, shakily dialing.
"Alias investigations we got cases and shit, so leave a message"
As usual, the phone rang until Jessica voicemail picked up instead.
"Shit Jess, seriously again"
She dialed a couple more times, distressed.
In hopes someone, anyone like malcolm there assistant or Jessica sister and retired child actress and now for some reason podcaster trish walker, would pick up even but with every call her voicemail followed.
Swerving through cars an eating red lights. Kit began blubbering an rambling like a child, her mind racing with thoughts an even more questions while deciding to go through with the voicemail instead.
"I don't know where you are but, I met him, my father. Well sorta." Trying to catch her breath to regain her composure.
"An my brother an probably my sister. I don't.. I dont know how this happened. This cant be a coincidence to randomly meet my supposed father just like that."
Hitting send an throwing her phone behind her into the backseat. Kit drove till the first sign of a bar was in her sight.
A bright neon light of what seemed like a actual human skull, shined so bright it felt like a sign from above or more so below since it read the Devil's Den in bright red across.
Sobbing, making a fast speed u-turn for it.
Kit flung herself out her vehicle.
The sight of bikers filled the lot, the air was filled with marijuana and cigarette smoke and the scent of bodies sweating as people danced, drank or huddled with friends.
Such a emotional reck, not even a quick drag could fix. All kit wanted was a drink or two maybe three, just enough to forget ever coming here.
To just forget even for mere seconds that her mother wasn't here.
Heading inside towards the bar, even more bikers an wannabe gangs sat around her.
The stench of sweat, beer breath and cologne conjoined with cigarette smoke an pot and straight gasoline from there bikes wafted off of there clothing.
Many seemed way passed wasted with crunching of ice cubes and straightening of shirts, skirts and hair among parched throats.
Clicking of balls from the pool table an singing an spilling didn't help the only three waitresses to gain a decent break.
Rubbing her eyes as she sniffled, taking a second before ordering.
Swiveling in the brown velvet stool for a better view when all of a sudden a tall man stood in front of her, his big nose bore the appearance of having been broken and set incorrectly more than once. His eyes showed no sign of life, just two overly dark brown filled iris.
While jeans outlined his thighs, and the sleeves of his western shirt were rolled up to reveal a much tanned muscular forearms where he had a tattoo on his right, to worn out to make out clearly an probably more hidden on him an his hair seemed fluffy but stood on it's own, a bit flat with what seemed to be caused by the cowboy hat he wore that hanged behind him.
He looked closer to forty, more or so forty-six than thirty. Could've easily mistaken him for her father if she didn't accidentally run into him earlier that day.
"You sure your old enough to be in here?" He asked starring down at her with a singular eyebrow raised.
With a annoyed sigh, Kit responded, "You sure your not late to play pinnacle at the old folks home?"
"Fine." He grunted.
"What's your poison then ma'am" he asks, his voice deep and raspy, but enunciated enough to be rather attractive she thought.
"Just get me two. Actually, just leave the bottle of rye whiskey with me"
He clapped his hands together, lifted a decanter of rye whiskey from behind him and began pouring.
"How about we just start with a glass an see where it takes us ma'am." He proposes, sliding a rock glass towards her.
"Sure, whatever. I guess." Kit drank it down quickly, hissing at the burn of the harsh liquid.
"You okay miss?" He asked with concern.
"Yeah, I'm peachy keen. Why'd you care." Her gaze was steady on his. Not quite in the mood for small talk.
"Just looking out for a gorgeous woman like yourself." He smirked an refilled her glass without asking, and kit drank more.
A slight smile drew up one side of kit's mouth, "Look, your not my type." She responded, continuing drinking more of the rye, until it stopped burning her throat, and the day began to disappear like another cloud in the sky.
His arms were crossed, leaned over, a little closer than necessary, and smirked. "Darlin, I'm everybody's type." He spoke and walked away.
A bit stunned by the man that for a slight second kit had completely forgotten what had happened hours before.
She stared into the cup, absently swirling it around.
The flow of her thoughts slowly started to gush out like a freshly sliced wound in her mind.
Squeezing her eyes shut and prayed that this whole thing was just a dream an that she never found those letters.
Those same damn letters her mother decided to hide from her, the journals upon journals of that said father her mother lied with her whole heart that she didn't know an sometimes, as the more kit thought an the more kit drank her mother would even say died in a fire.
The sudden realization of her life might be built on lies and deceit and anger of her will being did not sit well with kit.
"What was so bad about him that even the mere mention of him she would shut down, was he so awful to the point that no man could reenter her life."
Kit began to question herself.
Some would be greatful to not have grown with a revolving door of strange men trying to fill the roll of the father. But for kit, though she had said this times an times again that she did not care to know or have some sort of a father figure in her life. She wonders if things would've been different within her if she did.
"Hey, let me get a pint.
And one for this pretty lady here, too."
Kit glanced up to find a tall blonde man standing beside her with a thin face covered by a long thick beard.
His rugged features were unshaven, giving him the same barbaric appearance as those around her.
Turning her head towards him flexing her glass, "I'm all set, thank you" she says, trying to politely decline the mans offer.
"I don't take drinks from strangers."
"Have it with me now," he demanded.
"Nah mate, like I said. I don't take drinks from strangers, especially strange men in strange bars." She continued to gently decline the man's offer but like times and times before they just can't take no for a answer.
So he began to scoot closer to her, "Come on. I know how this works."
Kit slammed her glass down, slightly spilling. Her face contorted with rage, and her eyes starting to blackened by the clear ignorance of the man that stood uncomfortably close.
"Yeah okay. There's nothing here to work with so run along little boy." Her tone was none the less then irate.
"Well, your in luck cause I'm all man an I think you're a good looking piece of ass." He says sliding his arm around her chair, a clear indicator that she can't escape without hurting him. Which in this case kit feels the at most on doing so.
"An I'm wondering if your black and white only on that pretty little head of yours or .. is it every.. where?" He asked, his eyes lingering like a snake ready to pounce on some defenseless weasel.
"Cause I like to find out if you don't mind."
Crescent moons appeared in her palm while his predatory smile made her pulse fly.
"You'll never know. But I gotta get back to my drinking." With teeth grinding together a smile was forced within her in hopes he get the memo.
Till she tried to take another sip, an he stopped her with an iron grip on her arm.
"Come on. At least give me your number and your name. I'm John Walker."
"Hi john, you're gonna have to let go of my arm now."
"What happens if I don't?" He smirked.
"Do you really want to take that chance?" She asked smirking as well.
Right when out the corner, her knight an shining bartender came by her aid.
"Hey john, you're not allowed to be back here I told you that and stop harassing my customers. Let go of her arm."
She gently twisted her arm free from his grip. Her eyes steady on him as she sat an he walked back drunkenly pushing those around him to the ground.
"You alright ma'am?"
"Yeah," kit answered, "I dealt with worse. He's just some drunk."
"I must be if I thought I would want to touch someone who looks like a skunk skank." He yelled across the room.
The bartender chuckled, "That's classy,"
"I'm sorry, I didn't here you, shitbird!" Yelled John, tripping over one of the waitresses an spilling a half bottle of cognac onto kits leather jacket.
Already half past irritated and annoyed, she railed against his inability to do anything.
She stood up quickly and wiped her face with her shirt sleeves, silently admiring another failed attempt of society's precious white man.
"Okay, how bout you get your hillbilly musty ass outta here."
John turned an came face to face with kit, towering her, the smell of overwhelming pungency like musk an overly rotten sour apple's bounce off him.
"I wasn't talking to you ... whore, how bout you go back to where you came from border bunny."
A mug was slammed behind kit,
"Okay John, that's enough." Said the bartender, signaling one of his buddies to handle the mess that was as ready to abrupt like a volcano.
"Curtis get him outta here."
Kit smirks an began scratching her chin soon enough breaking into a bit of a laughter out of sheer disbelief she is being subjected to such a futile interaction with a incompetent an intransigent man after burying her mother, an bumping into her father that she wasn't even hundred percent sure she wanted to meet quite yet.
"You think that's funny, spic!" He spoke, his stance closer with the dirt an grease on his neck more visible then before.
Kit paused her laugher while the rage slowly began to consume, battered and bruised, she's been here many times before but nothing quite hurts like the quick jab to John's mouth she just threw.
Falling back he swung head first towards her,
kit quickly grabbing an twisting his arm an smashing his head against the cold sticky bar table.
"You like that you racist prick," she yelled, holding him hostage. "An I was born here puto, MAGA loving piece of shit."
She lifted him upright still having hold of him, placing her foot behind his lower back an kicking him forward out the bar.
"Get. Out. Of here." She said angrily through her teeth.
Kit walked back to her seat, silence roamed the place. Lasting for about a minute or two.
Ringing out her jacket the smell of cognac forever stitched in it seams.
As she sat herself down, a new clean glass of whiskey was slide down towards her without a single drop jumping out, no spill in sight.
She glared at her messenger, the only one who didn't want to make her blow a bullet into her pretty little head.
And he glared back. Watching her, a wry smile on his face and an amused twinkle in his eyes.
"So what brings you here" he asked,
"Just staying at the hotel near by is all, needed a drink."
Kit drank another glass of the whiskey and forced her attention to herself for once, wondering what the next move should be after the spectacular day she had.
"To New Mexico?"
Kit sighed that followed with eyes rolling back with annoyance.
"Uh.. just passing through." She explained.
"Where to?" He continued asking.
"Next place I'll be passing through." Kit smirked for her ominous tone did not register with him so lightly.
"So your some type of drifter. Pick up and take off whenever you like, huh?" He asked while he leaned against the countless rows of rye, tequila, gin, vodka, Scotch whisky, an amaro.
Kit followed suit, leaning back into the stool with arms crossed round her stomach.
"I mean, I guess. Pretty much. If you want to put it that way then." She smirked.
"Well gotta say, you have the whole mysterious women thing down. I give you that." He joked with hand gestured air quotes.
Kit scoffed at his assumption as she runs a hand through her hair lifting it off her neck as the heat of the night starts to roll in through the doors.
"So your just gonna vanish into the night after coming down from your lonely hotel an causing a ruckus in my bar?" He asked.
She looked defeated, and said "Hey. I just wanted a nice ole cold bottle of beer not some mentally deranged man up my ass. I've gotten enough of that already, trust me."
The night started to dumb down and the ring of motors started to blare away from the bar. Many to hung over to even stand or even keep a head up.
The air was clear of smoke and brume, an sweet as the honeysuckles that started to bloom.
"All right, mate, it's been good a one." Kit tossed the last drop of whiskey back and gulped it down, slapping the glass on the bar top before grabbing her jacket and turning away.
Right when someone was huskily clearing there throat, as old men do, obviously trying to get her attention.
An as nosey as kit is, she turns.
Eyeing the man across the table who crossed his big-knuckled, blue-veined hands on his breast, and began to speak.
"It's Frank " he spoke.
"What?" She questioned.
"My name. I'm frank. Frank castle" he repeats.
It seems as if the bartender finally had the chance to introduce himself kit thought.
She smirks though, again, not to keen on introducing herself. Yet.
"I'm, I'm not gonna tell you my name. Sorry."
He glanced up at her, frowning an face and chuckled. Holding tight to her jacket as he was gearing up to ask a follow up question.
"You leaving tomorrow?" He asks, cleaning yet another mug.
"I, I dont know yet. I have alot of things to sort through."
"You want to maybe grab another drink."
"No." Kit chuckled, "I think I'm good."
"With me?"
"I dont know. I mean I almost started a bar fight, I dont think me being here any longer would be good for business." Kit joked, halfheartedly.
"Please, far crazier things has happened here. Actually like a month ago, one of the bikers out there gave birth on that pool table behind you."
"And you kept the table?" She asked, baffled.
"It's a good table."
Kit stared back at Frank for a few minutes, taking in his lips, while his eyes held a past of hurt, destruction an deceit. Deep down she knew she wasn't the only one running away from something. While mini wrinkles would come and go around them as he smiles.
"Maybe I'll take that drink now." she says, sitting back down her jacket beside her.
As the night passed an the moonlight started to sizzle along the steamy payment the sound of Keys jingling and boot scuffling in the background came closer.
"Well isn't it long john silvers coming back for round two." Kit joked, turning to see John who's face still flashed red among its cheek after the slamming he took to very table she sat at.
"Shut it, bitch." He yelled at her and turned to Frank,
"Look Frank, I'm getting real tired of you thinking you run things around here and I think it's ready for you to learn who's boss."
"Whoa, big guy." Frank responded, coughing to cover up his laugh. "I just want you to know, john, this isn't personal."
"Well, it feels personal."
Kit stood an stretched, cramming her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she walked over to where John stood, in hopes for a round two. "Hey, lets just take this outside no one want's the smell of drakkar noir splattered on there walls."
"You know what, you got lots of nerve coming out here and running your mouth maybe someone should stuff it." He cried out, sputtering saliva while he spoke.
"Nice." Responded kit while she wiped the spit of her cheek.
"How bout you just back the fuck off before I break something worse then your hand that you desperately need since no women wouldn't even dare to touch you with a ten foot pole."
"Dont worry sweety, I have back up."
Two frail and lanky barrel-chested men rolled up behind him.
"That's what you call back up? Dopey and frumpy."
Kit little comment fed one of his men fury, coming in hot a with a fist full of fire. She quickly ducked down as he accidentally hit another drunken fellow walking up behind her.
Immediately kit felt unwanted hands grabbed her waist before she could even get a single hit in for herself, and pulled her into his arms to face him.
"I just had to ask you to a drink." Frank joked, dragging her down to the supply room that held a back door that led outside to the trash bins.
"What about your bar?" Kit asked while her breathing continued to become rapid an heavy.
"Don't worry about it, let's just get you outta here first."
They ran towards the doorway, screams and blaring horns came from the fire alarm system intentionally set off behind them when suddenly a familiar face stopped them in their tracks of their exit.
"Stay behind me," he instructed kit.
"Look John, I think you had a little to much come on shes just some dumb kid."
"Who you calling a dumb kid? I'm literally near my thirty's."
Frank looked over his shoulder with a stern look, "Shut it-"
"Just let her go an we can handle this, man on man. Come on" Frank bumped his fists together, gearing up for whatever was to come. John followed suit doing the same.
The two fought as kit planned her getaway not before throwing a canteen of salt at John lower back throwing him off an away from Frank.
"Oh, your gonna regret that." He shrieked, running in her direction.
Frank blocking her pushing John downwards to the ground and holding him in a headlock till he passed out.
"GO!" Screams Frank.
"I'm trying!," kit cried out, slamming herself against the door with all her might. "The door seems jammed."
"It won't budge" she says, turning to Frank who was unconscious on the ground.
"Frank!" Screamed kit, running to his side right when her arm was grabbed, pulling her in another direction.
Trying to push away John, her pulse and respiration in a race.
Slamming her elbow into his face, grunting as his dagger sliced through her lower abdomen.
The pain in her stomach cleared the haze of her mind, and she realized whatever was happening wasn't a dream just another part of her waking nightmare.
The sound of hysterical screams was the only thing that penetrated the daze coating her thoughts.
"No no no no no!" Screamed out Frank.