The Friend Shop (Phantom of t...

By sarahlet2999

7.3K 411 269

Erik is an assassin, moonlighting as a reclusive composer. Christine is a lonely girl, hired at the recently... More

Author's Note
▪ Chapter 1 ▪
▪ Chapter 2 ▪
▪ Chapter 3 ▪
▪ Chapter 4 ▪
▪ Chapter 5 ▪
▪ Chapter 6 ▪
▪ Chapter 7 ▪
▪ Chapter 8 ▪
▪ Chapter 9 ▪
▪ Chapter 10▪
▪ Chapter 11 ▪
▪ Chapter 12 ▪
▪ Chapter 13 ▪
▪ Chapter 15 ▪
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20

▪ Chapter 14 ▪

269 18 6
By sarahlet2999

Chapter 14

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Dalir's hands shook. The text waited patiently for his reply, the little blue bubble blissfully unaware of his near heart attack. The Persian had spent years searching for his friend, combing every nook and cranny that might hide the masked boy.

But, after twenty years, he'd given up. In the middle of Russia, he dropped the search, deciding Death had stolen his friend. All those months of grieving, all for nothing. If this text isn't a prank. If it were, he would find whoever laughed on the other side and destroy them for doing this to him.

Who are you?

How do you know that name?

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I'm Ami. I was informed we knew each other as children. I'm sorry for disturbing you. I won't bother you anymore.

Erik's bony finger clicked on the glass touchscreen, sending the message with a slowly sinking heart. Despite the heat of the fire, a cold wind whipped through the dark living room. Erik shivered and reached for the fleece blanket, but his claws froze before he touched the lambskin.

The blanket belonged to Christine. He retracted his hand and instead moved closer to the fire, the chill in his bones sending another quake through him.

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Wait!

Don't go. You're not bothering me. I couldn't sleep anyway. Tell me something that would prove you are who you say you are.

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Memories long locked away exploded into the front of his skull. Images of the two boys fight each other with the best sticks they could find, leaving bruises that Nadir's mother had always complained about and lovingly refused to treat because "they should learn not to 'rough house.'" She never failed to break down in the end and kiss the bruises and give them each a cookie to take their mind off the sore spots.

A few tears gleamed in the corners of golden eyes and a stray drop rolled down his cheek. Then, his mind landed on the perfect memory. Something only they would know.

You and I had a game we played at night. Hide and seek in the dark. You were always frustrated because I could see in the dark. You thought that was unfair.

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Ami, it's so good to hear from you again.

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Do you mean that?

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Of course, I do. Could we meet somewhere? We should talk, and text is not the appropriate place.

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Yes. I understand. Where would you like to meet?

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Perhaps a quiet place with few people?

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Preferably none.

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I know just the place. I'll send you the address.

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Two days later, Dalir walked towards a bench beneath a spreading oak tree, separate from the rest of the forest and overhung walking paths. At Ami's requests for the absence of humans, he had arranged their meeting at a small park several miles from town. Only occupied by the occasional cyclist or cross-country runner, the park remained empty of most human activity. The city had effectively abandoned it, letting the formerly nice park crumble and fade back into the clutches of the forest.

Only a few benches and a falling down playground remained reminding passersby of the land's old occupation.

Dusk was quickly closing in on him as he brushed aside leaves and sticks off the lichen covered stone and sat down, pulling his coat tighter around him. Checking his phone, he found he had no cell service.

I should have considered this when I chose this spot. They always told me not to do this! Especially when meeting strangers. But, he's not a stranger? Is he?

The frown the thought carried with it soon fluttered away as a tall black shape approached the bench from the shadows of the tree-line. A sharp wind caught the heavy black cloak and whipped it about his lean figure. A solid black mask covered his face from hairline to chin, leaving two holes for his piercing golden eyes and a thin line at his mouth for breathing. A black suit and tie covered his neck where the cloak's pleated collar failed.

When the shadow paused in front of him, Dalir stood up and greeted him. His height blew him away for a moment as he tilted his head upward a little to look the man in the eye.

"Ami?" He asked, holding out his hand to him.

"Nadir?" That musical voice he'd never forgotten questioned as it's owner's golden eyes peered at the outstretched hand. The figure shifted in his boots, his fingers tightening at his sides and relaxed only to squeeze into a leather fist.

"Yes, Dalir now but, yes, I was Nadir back when we knew each other." After a moment of awkwardness, he lowered his hand and gestured to the seat beside him. The man considered it for a moment but shook his head and simply stood beside the bench. Dalir shrugged and sat down, balancing his forearms on his knees.

"Do you still go by 'Ami'?" The black shadow shook his head.

"No. I choose a name later on. Erik." That name is special to us, to our childhood friendship. Besides, people like to have names, not titles.

"It's a good name. It fits you." Dalir agreed.

"You changed yours." He quietly noted, a question haunting his voice. "Why?"

"My father got into trouble with the law after... after. I wanted to leave that behind so I changed my name. I moved to the US, got a good job, found a wife. We have a baby now. You're an uncle!" Dalir laughed and noted with a twinge of sadness Ami didn't appear to share his mirth. If anything, the gold eyes turned colder, mirroring the wind that whipped about them.

"I'm not your brother. I never was. I was nothing more than a freak your family thought they could care for. Too late they found out they couldn't. To their detriment." The bitter words spat from Erik's mouth, shocking Nadir into silence for a moment.

I didn't realize you hated us so much.

The wind howled through the tops of the trees, sending a flurry of autumn leaves down onto the silent pair. The bits of color contrasted strongly with the Erik's black outfit and Nadir quiet gray suit. A couple leaves landed on Erik's shoulder and he brushed them off with a flick of his black-gloved fingers.

"You were always my brother, my friend." He finally explained when he could speak again. "There was never a moment you weren't. I never stopped hoping one day I'd find you and reunite our family. I know our relationship is a very complicated one and I don't expect for us to mend it in an evening of talk but, believe me, I'd like to start. I want my brother back." He looked up at the quiet figure, a black shape against the dying sun.

At last, golden eyes locked onto him, reminding him of the yellow and orange of the fading sun. They lingered long, as if they read him like a book. Reading every emotion, every intention, every expression – they searched for lies, misinformation, self-deceit.

"Christine tells me you are staying in a motel." He suddenly spoke up, instantly putting Dalir on edge as the name crossed his lips.

"You know Christine?"

"Yes, she's my 'friend.' I hired her from The Friend Shop." Yes, Nadir, your former friend is that desperate. "She heard your story and figured it out it was me. She told me and gave me your contact information with the request I reconnect." A dark void appeared in Dalir's stomach as he realized what this meant to him.

No, not my brother. Please, anyone but my brother.

"It appears we were both looking for honest company." Dalir commented with a smile, faking the "easy" conversation they had enjoyed before the blonde beauty's name had been brought up.

Right now, he's not an assassin I've been sent to bring in. Right now, he's my brother who I haven't seen in thirty years. I will find a way to work around this. One way or another.

"She is a fine friend."

"That I agree with wholeheartedly." He smiled and stood up, glancing at his watch. "I better be going. It's getting late and I have to make a phone call."

"I understand." The black shadow began to move away but Dalir called out to him before he could remove himself beyond earshot.

"Ami! Wait." He jogged up beside him. "Ami, you're not going to disappear again, are you?" Erik shook his head, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. His friend reminded him at the moment very much of a limp marionet, his strings cut and exhaustion filling his limbs.

"Good. Call me tomorrow evening. You have my number." Erik nodded and took a few steps back, away from him.

"I will. Goodbye, Nadir." Turning on his heel, he seemed to float away on the yards of black cloth flowing behind him.

And now, to call my boss.

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Back at his house, Erik sank into his computer chair and pulled out a vial of morphine, shooting a needle-full of the clear liquid deep into the scarred veins of his forearm. He waited a few moments, but nothing happened. The shakes hadn't disappeared. The tension coiled tighter if that were possible.

It's finally come to this.

His fingers grabbed the vial again and refilled the syringe with a half dose. The secondary stab stung a little more than the others, but his skin separated to allow the metal to slide into his body. The drug flooded the already saturated veins and performed the desired effect.

Calm and relaxed, almost to the point of sleepiness, Erik turned on his computer and pulled up The Friend Shop messenger, finding he needed Beauty's wisdom about how to continue.

She knows about people.

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Poking at her food, Christine skimmed through the feed of one of her social media apps, nothing standing out at her. Her break would end soon, a fact she found herself rejoicing over. The sooner it ended, the sooner the shift would end and the sooner she could go home.

Her phone dinged, revealing she had an email from The Friend Shop, letting her know of a private message from Erik. Curious why he messaged her outside of their regular days, she clicked the link and read it, realizing what he needed.

Christine, I met with Nadir today.

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What happened?

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He seems to not hate me. But, perhaps I read him wrong.

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I highly doubt you did.

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Where do I go from here?

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Talk to him. Get to know who he is now. It's been so long since you two have seen each other. I know both of you have changed a lot since you were boys. Take it slow. Talk.

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I don't like that idea.

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Christine caught herself laughing at the childish remark, her heart swelling with affection for the man.

"What am I going to do with you?" She muttered to herself before her boss called for her over the counter. Speed typing her last reply, she turned off her phone before he could respond.

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Erik, invite him over for supper tomorrow night. I'll come over early and help cook. The three of us will have a nice meal together. Gtg, boss wants me. ;)

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The phone weighed heavy in Dalir's palm as he stared at the contact before him. He had a choice. Either, betray his code and save his brother, or betray his brother and save his honor.

Maybe I can do both? But, first, I need more time.

The phone rang through quickly, his boss picking up on the second ring.

-Dalir, any more information?-

"Yes, I have a lead. But, I'm going to need some more time to properly check it out."

-We don't have that much time. He killed a Russian diplomat. At a party. In plain sight. This man must be stopped.-

"I understand."

-I don't want to tell you this but, this is coming down from the higher ups that if you fail they're going to find someone else. I'll do all I can but you know what happens when they get something in their brains.-

Dalir paused, thinking of his wife and their baby. Without a job, they'd go hungry. With a dismissal on his record, he couldn't get another job. He closed his eyes and his beautiful wife's face filled his mind, her face turned down in disappointment. Would she and their son ever look him in the eye with respect if he betrayed his word to the government?

I barely know this man. For all I know, he could be everything I've believed him to be all these years I've chased him. Do I give up everything I know and love for someone that might not be worth it?

Swallowing, he made up his mind.

"I understand, sir. When I am done, the assassin will be no more. I'll do my job."

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