Sorry this chapter is so short, but I felt like posting it nonetheless. :) Enjoy!
Song is: Welcome Amigo by Rick Garcia(Rango)
"Welcome Amigo, to the land without end.
The desert and Death are the closest of friends.
We sing of his courage in magnificent song, pay close attention - he won't be here long."
The following day Alexa awoke alone to the rays of the sun slithering through the light blue curtains. Her head ached horribly and her throat and side hurt. When she moved about though she could feel clean bandages against her skin as they slid across the sheets. Sheets? It took Alexa a moment to fully comprehend that she was in fact lying in a bed. A large soft bed, and she couldn't for the life of her remember how she got there.
She lifter her left hand to move the cover aside and saw that even her burn had a thin but secure bandage on it. Thoughts flying through her head on why Stansfield had bothered kept her mind preoccupied while she attempted to slowly sit up until she was almost up. Searing pain stabbed at her side and she bit her lower lip as she pushed her body upright, her feet now resting against the pleasant wooden floor. Looking around she saw a number of paintings on the walls, curtains, a clean floor and the sheets in the bed smelled clean. How could such an unpleasant man live in such a pleasant home? 'It even looks better than my own place' Alexa found herself thinking grudgingly.
Gingerly she rose to her feet, stepping over to the window and parting the curtains that reminded her of something. Outside the sky was a brilliant blue with feathery clouds traversing above her and she spent a few moments watching the birds fly over New York City. She had never really had an opportunity to see the city from a view such as this. It made her feels small, and she suddenly remembered where she was.
Alexa's gaze flickered to the door that lead to the living room, considering it for a second before walking over and turning the handle and stepping forward slightly as she fully expected it to open. It did not. Alexa almost slammed her nose into it when it didn't cooperate and she tried it again, a bit more firmly. Not a budge. The third time she insistently pushed at it while turning the handle, but in her hand she could feel that the door was locked shut. Taking a deep breath she steadied her injured side before bellowing though the door. "STANSFIELD!" She waiter a few seconds before pounding the door a few times. Ear against the door Alexa listened intently, utterly focused. It took her approximately two minutes to realize that the condo was empty, save for herself.
Turning around she slid down the door until she was sitting on the floor, looking around the room in irritation. The bastard had locked her in! The nerve of that man! Wasn't it enough for him to just lock the front door like everyone else? But it would seem that Stansfield was anything but like everyone else, something that put Alexa on edge. Who knew what he was capable of? He had already managed to damage And rescue her, both in the span of 48 hours.
Sighing at her poor stroke of luck she hung her head, resting her chin upon her sternum, and it was then that Alexa realized that she was only clad in a pair of men's boxers(that was almost comfortable in that odd sort of way), the bandages around her ribcage and her black lace bra. Cheeks flaming with a mixture of deep embarrassment and pure rage she rose once more to kick at the door in her anger, letting out a small portion of the frustration inside, but saving some for when Stansfield would return. And she knew he would, after all he owned the place. 'He owns you' a small voice inside her whispered, but she refused to acknowledge the thought.
She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, calming her mind to the set of calculative coldness that she used when she cracked safes. Opening them up again she started her search for something useful, and was rewarded almost instantly. Or, rewarded or rewarded. What she found hanging off of a chair to her right by the window was a discarded white dress shirt, clearly men's size 'Gee Alex, what else could it be?' Upon closer inspection of said shirt it turned out to be an Armani. Eyebrows practically sticking out from the top of her head like horns Alexa softly stroked the cloth and it yielded pleasantly at her touch, the finely weaved fabric smooth and soothing on her skin. Looking left and right out of habit, she finally shrugged her shoulders and put it on, not thinking much further on the subject of it's origin as it slipped easily up her arms. It was oddly cozy, the long sleeves reaching just past her fingertips and the bottom of the shirt reaching about mid-thigh. Discrete pearly white buttons went way past her hipbones and the garment fit almost like a dress on Alexa's almost petite frame. She smiled softly at the quaintness of the whole thing.
Then the routine state of mind returned and she started searching for the flaws in the security of the room, like one would examine the lock on the safe before you decide on a technique with which to open it. The door was out of the question, she was too weak to even think of breaking it down. Window? Alexa parted the curtains with a flourish and was temporarily blinded by the sun. From the looks of it's position it was around noon, or at least midday. The window was, of course, locked. She was about to pound on the window itself before she looked down and realized she was at least six stories up. In the end she climbed up on the wide windowsill and fell asleep in the sun, leaning against the high glass, dreaming of music and the colour blue. This was how Stan found her six hours later, asleep against the window as the lights of New York cast a soft warm glow on her pale skin.
"As the birds pluck his eyes, the sun bleaches his bones.
See his entrails get scattered, watch him lose his cajones, ay yay!...
(Spoken) Here in the Mojave Desert, animals have had millions of years to adapt to the harsh environment. But the lizard?
He is going to die."