Hey y'all,
Thanks for the votes and comments from previous entries. Please enjoy this entry of the story, because I don't know when I will have time to continue writing about Tim and Nate. This may be a temporary ending, but I already know this won't be the final ending.
Please vote and comment! Enjoy!
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Chapter 2.11 The Follow-Up
With moderate physical therapy, I was able to walk without any aid by my fifth week. It was a very irritating process, but seeing Nate being able to calm his emotions was all I need to energize myself.
"You'll be able to have great sex in no time," Nate blew into my ears.
I tilted my head for his pleasure, "Someone's really horny," I massaged my stiff neck, "and it would be nice to get my rocks off. You know, I haven't blew my load since the last time you..."
"Shhhhh," he hushed me, "that's between you and the other Tim Tim."
I gave him my best glare, and he pretended he didn't see it.
"Timothy Chang," the nurse called. Nate gave me a hand and I stood up more or less without losing balance.
"Here are your medications. Do you need to be instructed?"
"No, thank you."
"You have a great day."
Nate and I nodded back simultaneously back at her.
We rode the elevator down to the garage. It was the two of us, so Nate leaned in closer, and closer, until he was practically humping me.
"Camera, Nate."
"I don't care."
He stole a quick peck and smiled widely.
The door slid open and we went out into the structure. The sun hammered in its light against each car, as it reflected the light back at us.
"You stay here, I'll pull the car up." And he took off, whirling his keys around his fingers.
I stood there, tired and weary, leaning against the cement column. My bloodshot eyes would have given it away that I haven't sleep well for the past week. Finally, I could close my eyes and rest without stress.
The engine sound approached me, echoing louder every second. Wait. It's a motorcycle though. Not Nate. Keep resting.
But the sound was getting closer at me. That's not right.
Shit!
I rolled against the column as the front wheel of the motorcycle sanded off where my head was leaning.
"Nate! Nate!" I yelped.
The bike rolled back down and the biker flung the tail of the bike to where I'm standing, which prompted me to roll again. I stepped out to the open space and lost my balance when the biker pulled out a suppressed pistol at me. I pressed hard on the rough asphalt, my palms sweating uncontrollably.
This is the end. Bye, Nate.
I closed my eyes.
Boom! Crunch!
My eyelids twitched as it lifted; Nate smashed his car right to the front of his motorbike. The killer flew across several parking spaces, losing his grip to his weapon midway. He wasn't done though. He got back up in an instant and we ran for the gun. He got it first, but I gripped his forearm and twisted his bulging muscle. I bent under his arm and kicked his armpit with the tip of my shoe, disarming him. But he shoved me hard and I smashed my hip against the bumper of an SUV.
I clenched my teeth together to lessen the pain. Nate entered into the bubble and kicked the pistol towards me as the killer reached for it. The killer elbowed Nate's stomach, but he hammer-fisted the killer's helmet. The killer backed off, but then lunged at Nate again. He kneed Nate at his hip and head butted him with his helmet.
The pistol wasn't in a very nice place for me; it was underneath the van next to me.
Ahhh, shit.
I crawled on my belly, holding my cries in every time my hip stabbed itself with pain. I could clearly see the killer repeatedly punching my lover, but Nate uppercut his chin, staggering him a few steps back. He took the opportunity to sweep him off of his feet and choked the killer.
I reached under, near the tires. My fingers touched the bottom of the grip slightly.
They were both back onto their feet. Nate's jab missed but he blocked the killer's uppercut right on time. Still, the killer was able to push Nate into the same cement column and strangled him. At the same time, Nate ripped his helmet off his head.
I finally picked up the pistol and crawled back out. My hand shook when I lifted my whole arm for the aim, but was unable to do so nicely at the fuckin' killer. Shit. So I placed the grip on the asphalt and tilted it a little to the sky and...
Poomb.
"Shiiiiit!" the killer cried in agony.
I shot him in the inner thigh, an inch or two right of his genitals.
His trembling and weak hands covered and squeezed his bleeding thigh, dropping to the ground, sobbing and grunting hopelessly.
"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Ahhhh!" his high-pitched voice pierced through the hot air.
Nate hurried to me, "Let me see." He peeled my hand from my injured hip. I took in a sharp breath.
"It's bruised."
"Yeah, I know," I grunted.
When the security guards showed up, Nate flashed his police badge and more cops surrounded the area in minutes.
When the paramedic wiped my hip with alcohol, I over-straightened my back to an arch against the back door of the ambulance.
"Relax," he said; his tone was comfortless.
"Shit! Ahhh! Shit-fuck!" the poor dude was still screaming from embarrassing injury. He was put onto those yellow stretchers, pushing away the doctors who was only trying to help ease his pain.
"Did you shoot him?" the paramedic asked curiously.
"Oh hell yeah. That's what he gets for messing with a temporarily disabled person."
He chuckled at my words. "Is that guy your man?" He pointed at Nate.
"Yup, that's him."
"A very hot man," he grinned, "for a very hot traitor."
I didn't react quick enough, but he already have a mini pistol pointed at my hip.
"Mother really, really wants to see you," he emphasized. He pushed me onto the seats and closed the back doors as the driver abruptly turns and speeds down the ramp.
Everyone outside waved at the ambulance, and when we crashed the police cars away from the exit. We were fired upon. A decoy ambulance soon took a turn onto the intersection as we pulled away into smaller streets. We stopped when we arrived near a lake park.
"Hurry," the paramedic pointed his gun at me, "mother is waiting."
"I can't... ahhh..." The ache was eating me away, but then he jerked me off the vehicle with no fucks given.
The breeze cooled my wound, but it added even more pain to it.
"Timothy, my dear," mother cooed.
I bit my pale lips, my eyes rolling back from the immense discomfort.
"Just kill me alright," I shuddered out.
The driver and the paramedic stood several feet away from me, both equipped with a gun. They pointed it at my brain.
"No. Not now, Timothy. You always do things wrong. You time things wrong. You fuck your missions wrong. You, are an utter disappointment. You and Damon."
I swallowed hard and bent a little over to ease my breathing, "What... what did you do to Damon?"
"Oh," she began pacing around me, "I saw his pretty face. And Kenneth wanted to see him everyday. So... what do you think I did?"
"Kenneth would be proudly surprised by the gift. But don't you think he's a bit too young for this?" I winced at her; my words dripped with sarcasm.
She burst out a corrupted laughter, "I'm a generous person, Timothy. So I stuffed Damon like a stuffed animal. I drained out his blood, and took out his organs..."
I grinned, with pictures of the situation in my mind.
"And now, Kenneth sleeps with him every night."
"He's a bit too old for a body pillow, mother," I snickered, "So he's not working for you anymore, huh?"
Mother hates it when someone pops her lies in front of other. She kicked the back of my knee right at the center. And I kneeled like I was begging her, with both hands on the dirt. She pulled out her own gun from her skirt and tapped the barrel on my shoulder.
"This is only the beginning of my game, Timothy. And you're already about to be disqualified. But no worry. As long as I'm the judge, you can die as many times as you want. And I'll respawn you as I please." Her lips brushed against my ear, "You can't quit."
She waved off her boys and was about to leave. I got back up, holding on my knee and hip.
"Mother, one question about the game rule."
She turned elegantly, her hand at her hip, "And that is?"
"Why did you kill Nate's parents?"
She hesitated.
Then playfully said that it was an invalid question.
"Why? Why did you kill them really? Was it because..."
"Shut up Timothy!" she aimed her gun at me, her palms sweating from her tight grip.
"He is your..."
Mother walked up to me and jabbed me in the guts.
"Shit," I groaned, "People need to stop punching me there."
She pulled my hair up until I was face to face with her, "If he ever finds out my identity, I'll make sure you'll be gang-raped by all my other favorites in front of..."
"Your son," I smirked wickedly, "Nate is your..."
And she backhanded my face silly. I fell to the ground, laughing as she left.
I've never felt more relieved than now because, I realized one thing: she would never ever intentionally... hurt Nate.
Chapter 2.12 The Vacation
Too many uneventful things happened to us both, so instead of shitting our pants in our kitchen, waiting for the next trouble to arrive, we decided to go on a cruise.
But I knew at least for now, no more trouble will be dawned upon us.
