A/N: I apologize this took so bloody long too post- totally my fault.
Warnings: Just the same as before.
Pointless/Useless reviews...ah, you know what I mean.
Chapter 11: Scottish, fucking SCOTT-ISH!
Chibs woke with a groan, wanting desperately to move his arms but couldn't find the strength. He felt cold and sweaty, and after laying there for a few moments, his surroundings coming into focus, he realized it was probably best he didn't have the strength to move his arms, seeing as they were tied behind his back.
"Shite." All of it was coming back to him now, trying to slip into the warehouse, being a deer in headlights, and getting shot. That would explain why he felt light-headed, extreme blood loss; he could feel the wetness seep into his clothes, warm against his pale skin. The medical training kicked in and he was relieved to find it was a through and through, another inch over and it wouldn't have hit him at all- nothing.
But if he was here, where was Tig?
Another groan as he worked to sit up, a new layer of sweat slicking his skin in the effort. He was in the back of a van, alone, no one in the front either. Then he heard voices outside and wondered if it was too late to play dead.
"He wants us in there." One weasely voice was saying.
"But there's a bloody guy in the van. We suppose to leave him? Won't that just piss Rick off?"
"I dunno. I hope not"
"But it's Rick he's fucking insane, he could crush us." "He can't do that, not without Darby's permission...I think. It doesn't matter he's caught the other intruder anyway, might as well reunite these two before Rick kills them."
Oh, fuck! Tig was caught too, now he was definitely screwed. Jesus he may be shot, but from the sounds of this Rick guy, if Tig went and mouthed off he was probably in worse shape than Chibs.
Chibs squinted at the sudden brightness as moonlight poured in through the open doors. "Good you're awake. Move it." Chibs did his best to move but ended up being dragged out of the van by the tall bald Aryan with a gun for moving to slow. Patience was not a virtue to these guys apparently.
"Oy! I'm sorry if I am not moving fast enough but yeh just went and shot me so ya can't expect too much boy."
"Just shut up and walk, little Irish prick." The barrel of the gun pushed into his back making him stumble forward, and despite the blood gushing from his side, Chibs couldn't help but whip around and glare at the Aryan bastards.
"I am not fucking Irish you little fuck. Just like you're not a colored business man." That earned him a gun to the face, but Chibs didn't care, he just spat the blood at the white supremacy freak. He wasn't Irish, didn't even sound like it. It was unbelievable how much people made that damn mistake, and took a helluva not to go off on them for it. But these guys, he had no problem cussing out.
That might not be the best idea though, if Tig was still alive his temper tantrum could get them both killed. He had to reign in the anger, for now.
The group was silent as they made their way through the warehouse. Approaching a lone figure standing over a prone one with a gun, one most certainly dead. Chibs felt his heart stop, and breath hitch in his throat, he even stopped walking until he was prodded with the pistol again. But the feeling of dread had hit him hard at such a sight, what if it was Tig on the ground? Tig dead? He couldn't tell from this distance, and the moonlight wasn't shining in the right area. He wasn't sure what hurt him more the actual possibility of the Sergeant at Arms being dead or the suspense in waiting find out.
Stepping within 3 feet, the lone figure swung around, and gun in a blood dripping hand. And to Chibs immense relief, he knew it was Tig by the rings and leather bracelet adorning his outstretched arm.
"Drop the gun pal, I am not in the mood." The two thugs were stunned, frozen to the spot. The white of their eyes taking up their whole face as they stared at their fallen friend. Chibs watched quite shocked himself, he could see the how beaten Tig was. How his hands slightly shook, how the gun lowered a fraction, how his eyes were threatening to close. This Rick guy was one tough S.O.B to do that to Tig.
Chibs didn't want to take the chance that Tig might miss, or to tell the truth he didn't want to see Tig kill anyone. So he jabbed his elbow into the gut behind him, hands reaching out for the loosely held gun, catching the metal and swinging around and putting two bullets in the guy's head. He turned on the weasely one, finger itching to pull the trigger. But he decided against it.
"Tell Darby yeh're boys 'ere turned on each other. Killed each other, while you hid in the corner like a coward."
"You're...you're not gonna kill me?"
"A pussy like ya? Nay, yeh ain't even worth ta bullet. Tell Darby whatever yeh want. As long as it doesn't include me and my brother 'ere. Anything else and I'll let Tiggy here 'ave 'is way with ya." He could feel the grin on Tig's face though he didn't see him. It made Chibs grin himself. The fear etched in the face of the weasely bastard made it even more enjoyable.
"Leave. Yeh can get your boys later."