A/N: Hello there! This is my first fan fiction that I'm putting up here. I've got a few originals on Fiction Press, but that's about it. For this story, I hope you all think that I've kept Wesley at least slightly in character 'cause I worked on that :o But anyway! I won't talk to much right now so I'll just let you read on now :)
I am very sorry for all/any of the grammar mistakes! I try to re-read it over a few times but some mange to always get passed me. If there's anyone out there who'd like to read over the story to take for any grammar mistakes please tell me! I would really appreciate it! Thank you :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Wanted and other related characters. I do, however, own this plot and the original character.
Chapter One: Letter of the Past, Onto the Future
It had been at least one month since Wesley had taken out Sloan and the Fraternity. One, very long month of absolutely nothing interesting coming up. His days were spent in his father's old hideout, glancing out the window every now and then and being paranoid that someone or some people were going to come after him. However, Wesley didn't let time let him waste away. Every moment he got he still managed to find an appropriate place, changing the spot every time, to train and make sure he didn't get sloppy.
Wesley took in a large gasp for air as he emerged from the water in the bathtub. The hot water rolled down his body very slowly as the dim light in the room made him glow, just a little. He shook his head to rid his hair of the excess water before leaning back to just sit and relax there for a bit. He absently watched the steam rise from the hot water he was in, a small pout in his face.
"God, I'm so bored…" Wesley said out loud to himself. He lowered his head just until it was right below his nose and started to blow bubbles into the water that popped and splashed in his face. He stared forward; looking straight out the window as the sun slowly began to set. He was about to say something until he noticed that he was still blowing bubbles into the water and immediately brought his head back out. "I just did the coolest things in the world – ever – and now, I have nothing to do…"
Wesley went back to leaning against the edge of the deep tub he sat in and thought about the events that had happened to him about a whole month ago. A sad look appeared on his face as he remembered how Fox had helped and saved him only to allow the bullet to go through her head, just because she believed in the code that much when Sloan had said her name had come up. Wesley's eyes narrowed in anger when he remembered the lies he realized Sloan had told him. He was glad he had killed Sloan, pay back for making him chase after and kill his own father.
"Fucking bastard…" Wesley mumbled angrily, staring up at the ceiling like he wanted to burn holes into it because he was that angry. He took in a couple deep breaths to calm himself down while the hot water helped in the calming department just a little.
Suddenly, a loud knock was heard coming from downstairs. Wesley sat up straight in the tub, causing some water to splash out onto the bathroom floor. He unknowingly held his breath as he waited and concentrated on any other sounds coming from downstairs. Wesley started to take in slow, and long inhales of air as he quietly got out of the bathtub. He grabbed the pants near him on the counter and slipped them on quickly before walking out of the bathroom.
Wesley took careful steps toward the stairs, having grabbed a gun just in case he might need it. He was mindful to avoid the spots on the steps he had come to recognize as spots that would cause a lot of noise as it creaked. He peered around the corner and quickly jumped off of the stairs, passed the remaining three, and pointed his gun around. Wesley grumbled quietly to himself when there was nothing there that he could shoot and then made his way to the front door.
He rushed over to the window beside the door and took a peek outside while making sure that he couldn't be seen. When he saw no one there, Wesley reached for the doorknob and swung the door open.
A few civilians passing by the door as he opened it jumped back slightly from the shock only to stare at him oddly for a while. Wesley smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, and waved at the people staring at him. "Hi, hello… S – Sorry about that," he stammered nervously, still waving at the people as they started to walk away.
Wesley kicked himself mentally and cursed quietly. He was just about to turn around when his feet touched something on the floor. Looking down, Wesley saw a large brown envelope with his name on his. He picked it up, looking on both its sides curiously and then looking around. He saw no one else walking by and no one suspiciously looking in his way so Wesley decided to bring it back inside and take a look at what it was.
He closed the door firmly, remembering to lock all the locks – all six of them – before making his way back upstairs to his room. He shook his head for the second time in that hour to rid himself of the excess water as he sat down on the edge of his bed. He had thrown the gun over to the side and was now flipping the envelope back and forth like a child shaking their Christmas present in curiosity. Wesley started to tap his fingers gently against the envelope as he tried to decide whether or not he should open it.
After not much thought, Wesley ripped the flap open and dropped the contents of the envelope on the spot beside him. A single brow rose, Wesley even more curious, when he saw an airplane ticket, a cheque for a whole lot of money, and a folded letter. He picked up the ticket that read "To London, England, UK" on a little sticky note attached to it and then picked up the cheque. Wesley's jaw dropped slightly and he almost jumped up in excitement when he read how much money was being given to him. "Holy shit! Five million dollars! Oh fuck!"
A large smile appeared on Wesley's face and he started to hyperventilate in joy, but not so much that it would have made him lose air to his lungs. Wesley quickly put the ticket and the cheque to the side and then picked up the folded letter. He unfolded it with rushed hands and he tried to read the letter as quickly as he could.
Hello Mister Wesley Gibson,
I'm sure you might've been extremely bored out of your mind, thinking that there was nothing else to be done now that you've rid the world of the assassin's guild called the Fraternity. However, you are wrong on one part of that. You haven't rid the world of the Fraternity, not yet anyway.
I have supplied you with a ticket to one of the other Fraternity bases and also with a sufficient about of money to spend on what you need for yourself.
The reason why I have suddenly decided to tell you this is because you seem so hell bent on having something to do, and because you are the only person I know who would be able to do the job I am assigning you.
The other base in England is much more organized, and far more stronger that the one you were used to. They have much more highly trained assassins, so you must never let your guard down or think you're better than they are. Ego and pride are never to be taken lightly. Though, my only advice to you is to not try and take the whole place out in one shot.
Once there, someone will come to you. This person will help you with anything you need. I cannot tell you their name or what they look like, so I myself do not know. However, the way you will know it is them is when this person says the key words to you. "Nothing more."
I trust you will do well. Your father would be proud.
Wesley smiled, reading the last few lines of the letter a few more times before placing the letter beside him on the bed. He leaned back, using his palms to hold him up, and just sat there for a while as the water dried off with a few still rolling down his chest. "I feel like such a fucking bastard," he said out loud, thinking about how he shot his own father. He knew that he was tricked and sort of brain washed into thinking that man wasn't his father, but the remaining piece of humanity left in him felt guilty.
Speaking about humanity, Wesley suddenly started to grin when the memory of his "best friend" in front of him on his knees begging for his life. Repeatedly saying how sorry he was for sleeping with his girlfriend and still acting like he and Wesley were the best of buds. The smile grew as the memory of the gun being fired rang in his ears and the look of horror on Barry's face just before the bullet went through his head. "Who's the man? I am,"
"Amazing how I've lost all sense of moral value in such a sort time… Oh well," Wesley picked the envelope up again, re-reading it over for no apparent reason at all. He glanced outside the window, seeing the very little light remaining from the sun as it was almost completely past the horizon. He moved the items on the bed to the floor and then fell back against the sort of soft cushion. He placed his hand behind his hand and looked up at the ceiling, his head near the window. His other hand lay on his toned, flat stomach and only rose up whenever he inhaled. "I guess I should go, I don't really have anything else to do to use as an excuse not to…"
Wesley rolled over to his side to peer over the side of the bed to stare at the plane ticket, the cheque, and the letter. He rolled onto his back and let out a deep sigh. Then, a grin started to appear on his face as he stared at the ceiling. He got up quickly and rushed to the closet in search of a suitcase or some sort of bag he could use to carry all of his things. At the top shelf he saw a dusty old bag that looked large enough to carry anything he might need.
"Wait a sec… how about my guns?"
Wesley rushed back to the envelope and looked inside to see if there was anything else in there. He smiled as he pulled out another letter and unfolded it quickly.
I'm sure you would be wanting to take all those fancy guns and bullets of yours and are now wondering how to get them past security without getting noticed. Lucky for you, there's a way. Just go to any airport and as you are approaching the gates, always rub your left eye with your right hand using your fourth finger from the thumb. Because the Fraternity is an international organization, it needed its ways of getting around. Good luck Wesley.
Wesley rubbed his left eye with his right hand using the fourth finger, or the ring finger, as practice to try and make it like second nature. After trying it out a few times Wesley went back to packing. He neatly placed all the clothes he thought he need, packing as much as he could since he didn't know how long he would be there for. He rushed into his father's old hideout room for all the weaponry and started to pick out what he wanted to take.
The eager 24-year-old man made sure to bring his father's custom guns along with several knives. Once he was positive he was all right to go he grabbed the closest shirt to him and slipped it on before grabbing the ticket and the cheque. Wesley stuffed the two items into his leather jacket he had just put on and then threw on his bag before dashing out the door. Not forgetting to lock the door first though. However, what happened at the sidewalk was something he wished could've been less annoying.
"Wesley?" came the voice of his old girlfriend from across the street. She looked at him with sad yet hopeful eyes before running across the street toward Wesley. She looked like she was going to hug him but stopped when she saw the odd look in Wesley's eyes. "Hi Wesley,"
"Cathy," Wesley just looked at her, absolutely no emotion on his face.
"Why don't you ever come by any more?" Cathy asked him, obviously hinting at something else.
"What would my reason for coming by be, Cathy?"
"I didn't mean to say those things I said last time Wesley, I –"
Wesley turned away from her immediately just as an empty taxi turned the corner. He waved his arm quickly, rushing to get out of the area. He looked back as the taxi started to drive and smiled at Cathy who looked so pissed she was about to scream in frustration in the middle of the street.
"Where to sir?" asked the taxi driver.
"London, England! Shit, that was a long ride!"
Wesley stretched tired limbs just outside of the London airport. He glanced around as he stretched, eagerly searching for a free taxicab. He put his bag down on the ground beside him once he was finished stretching and went back to looking for a cab. "Where have all these cabs gone to?" he mumbled to himself out loud.
Then, just at that moment, Wesley sensed that something was off and immediately pulled out his gun and fired just in time to deflect a bullet that was coming right at him. Wesley narrowed his eyes and concentrated so he could get a better view of the people in the distance. He could faintly hear the cries and screams of the civilians around him but he paid no attention to it as he tried to find who had shot that bullet.
Another gun was fired from somewhere behind him and Wesley acted on time once again to deflect the oncoming bullet. He picked up his bag and made a run for it, toward any direction that came into his mind first just to get away from the gunfire. Unfortunately, several more bullets were fired at him and he only had four left in his gun, which left one bullet to hit him right at his side. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he shouted repeatedly. "This isn't supposed to hurt that much!" he shouted, remembering the training he had to endure to become tolerant to pain.
Wesley fell of the ground, in the middle of the street, and cursed his luck as he tried to drag himself to the other side while reloading his gun. Many of the people who were once around him were now running and screaming, shoving themselves into other's cabs just to get away from the area. He tried as much as he could not to cry out in pain as the blood poured out from his side. "Fuck!" he shouted again.
Just as he thought his life was over because of all the bullets flying at, another round of bullets came from somewhere near him to deflect the ones aimed for his head. Wesley looked up at see a young woman crouch down beside him and put an arm around his torso to pull him up. He stared wide-eyed from left to right as the barrage of bullets continued still, but thanked his luck that this stranger was now helping him. He'd ask her questions later.
He followed the mysterious woman mostly because he didn't have much of a choice as she dragged him to a vehicle he assumed was hers. She placed him as gently as she could into the backseat, fired a few more bullets and rushed over to the driver's seat. Just as Wesley as about to sit up the woman floored it, causing the car to speed off and making Wesley feel like he was in the spin cycle from all the moving around.
Wesley pressed onto the wound and ripped off a piece of his shirt to use as a cloth to try and slow or stop the bleeding. The woman had slowed down after some time and was now driving along side the London traffic. Wesley glanced up into the rearview mirror and was taken back in awe just slightly when he saw that the woman's eyes were silver in colour. However, he didn't really get a chance to comment when the car came to a sudden stop in front of a not-too-bad looking hotel.
The mysterious woman got out form the car only to come back to the backseats. She quickly shut the door behind her and crawled over Wesley's body. Wesley looked at her oddly as he pressed against the wound at his side. "Are you the person who's going to help me?"
The woman just smiled at him as she reached over to his wound. Wesley winced a bit when her soft fingers gently brushed against the wounded skin that became exposed when she moved his hand away. She frowned slightly when she saw black vein-like marks spreading out from the bullet wound. "It's hurting you so much because it's poison," she explained calmly to him.
"What? Poison!" Wesley started to panic and jolted into an upright position. "Holy shit! Why the fuck would they use poison!?" he shouted at the woman, like it was her fault for the poison being there.
She leaned her another hand against Wesley's chest and began to make noises as if she were trying to sooth a child. "Calm down; the faster your heart beats the faster the blood travels which means the poison will spread much faster," she leaned forward and gently caressed the side of Wesley's face as she helped him calmed down a notch. Wesley took in slow, deep breaths and could already feel his heart beat coming down to a normal pace.
The silver-eyed woman bent down, moving anything that would block the wound far away and placed her warm lips around it. Wesley was about to jump up again when he remembered her words of being calm as the most important thing at the moment so he tried to keep as calm as he could. He bit his lip when he suddenly felt the woman sucking against the open wound. "Oh – oh fuck," he whispered, turning his head slightly as the woman continued to suck at his wound.
She stopped suddenly to spit out what she had sucked up to the side and then went back to what she was doing. Wesley began to realize what she was doing but still bit his lip to prevent any other words to come out form his mouth. He almost let out a low moan when the woman's tongue brushed against his skin and he almost frowned when she pulled away to spit the poison out again.
She wiped her mouth from the blood and continued to spit just in case there was any remaining poison in her mouth. She forcibly closed Wesley's jacket so that the wound wouldn't be seen and pulled him up toward the door. She picked up Wesley's bag just before they exited the car. "Make sure that wound doesn't get seen, I don't want any rumours popping about right now," she said to him as she dragged him toward the hotel.
"What about your –"
"Don't worry, it's not my car – oh, and you call me Meyers around here,"
Wesley followed her through the hotel, noticing how 'Meyers' smiled and waved to the people inside. They kept on walking, even taking the stairs instead of the elevator, until they were at the top floor – much to Wesley's annoyance – and walked into what looked to be the penthouse. Wesley didn't have much time to appreciate the wonderful décor for 'Meyers' had dragged him into the bathroom and practically threw him into the tub. "Hey!" Wesley said suddenly, making 'Meyers' stop what she was doing to stare and listen to him. "Are you the person who's going to help me?"
"All I am going to do is help you and nothing more," Meyers replied before turning on the tap to fill the tub with hot water.
"So that's what the 'nothing more' means," Wesley mumbled to himself. "Who are you?"
'Meyers' started to pour that oh-so famous liquid that would accelerate the healing process into the tub. She looked up and smiled at Wesley. "Clothes, off," she ordered just as she finished pouring in the substance. She turned around when Wesley started to peel of his clothes and walked to the bathroom counter. "Around here people know my name as Katherine Sybil Meyers, but I'm always called Meyers and I prefer it that way - the codename I had received is Nike for victory - like you, I was once in the Fraternity but left it," Katherine turned around just in time to catch the clothes Wesley had thrown at her, watching him smirk as he settled into the tub into a more comfortable position. "There are a few who have left the Fraternity, but most were in secret,"
"So how come they're not coming after you then?" Wesley laid back and let the substance harden at the surface. He made sure to have his ears out of the water so she could still hear what Katherine was saying.
"I had to take a vow that I wouldn't bother them and to never pick up a gun ever again. Unfortunately for that little incident earlier, I had no other choice so now I'm sure there's no doubt that they're going to come after me," Katherine tossed Wesley's bloodied shirt into the garbage can and folded his pants neatly before leaving the room.
"So, uhm, I can tell by your accent that you're from around here," Wesley shouted to her, as parts of the surface were already becoming a solid.
"Sleep now Wesley, rest up," Katherine whispered to him from the door, smiling as Wesley complied and let his eyes slowly close. "You'll need it,"