Discharged
Chapter 6: Discharged
Gregory Dufort-
Ash Lynx and his gang of street thugs had attacked Papa Dino’s car and taken Papa Dino hostage. In the process both Gregory and Angie, Papa Dino’s bodyguards, had both been shot and unable to stop anything. As he teetered on the edge of consciousness, Gregory Dufort had watched from where he lay on the ground while Ash Lynx held Papa Dino at gunpoint and forced him away from the car. Gregory tried to push himself up, but the effort made the world go dark and he blacked out. When he finally woke, there was no sign of Ash or his gang. He took a breath and forced himself to sit up, trying to ignore the pain. A short distance down the road a roaring inferno blazed at the foot of a half-built building. Gregory looked down at Angie, still unconscious, then staggered away from the car. He concealed himself behind the corner of the half-built building just in time to see Ash Lynx walk out of the building. He was wounded and Gregory was pleased. He had never liked Papa Dino’s alley cat.
A group gathered around Ash and Gregory found that he knew most all of them. The journalist, Max Lobo, and his wife, along with one of the gang kids from Chinatown were the first ones to reach Ash. Soon, more little snot-nosed brats joined them, all the ragged little brats who wanted to be gangsters and thought having a gun put them at the top of the food chain. As Papa Dino’s right hand man for the past many years, Gregory had at least seen most of those boys at some time or another. They gathered around Ash like moths to a flame. Then, into that firelight, towering over everyone like an oak tree, stepped Blanca.
Gregory stepped back a pace, hoping that the shadows would conceal him.
“Well?” Max Lobo asked Ash. “What happened up there?”
“Foxx is dead.” Ash held a hand to his shoulder and swayed on his feet. “Dino killed him. Shot him right in the head. Dino’s dead, too.”
Gregory didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. A blazing fury swamped his mind. Papa was dead. Ash, of all people, wouldn’t joke about that. He watched as the group spoke for a bit longer, then went their separate ways with Ash heading off with Max Lobo and the wife. They were all gone well before any authorities arrived. All of them but Blanca.
As a made man in the Corsican Syndicate and the right hand of Papa Dino, Gregory would never admit to being afraid of anyone, but he would confess to a wise amount of caution where Blanca was concerned. Anyone who was completely comfortable around Blanca either didn’t know his reputation or was an idiot. Blanca stood there in the light of the burning helicopter, with the sounds of police sirens growing closer and closer and didn’t look even the slightest bit worried. He walked very calmly to the wreckage of Papa Dino’s car and looked down at Angie. He looked around the car for a few minutes, then bent over to picked up Angie. He threw Angie over his shoulder as if he were no more trouble than a blanket, and walked off. Seconds later, the area was filled with police cars and fire trucks.
Still, Gregory watched. It was chaos and he knew he couldn’t stay long or he’d be found and it was all too likely that he might be recognized. He made to slip away when he saw, sitting on a table with little things in labeled bags, a metal suitcase. It was badly dented and the some of the metal had been melted from the fire, but it was whole. Gregory remembered that suitcase. He remembered Doctor Manorheim had that case and he remembered what Manorheim kept in that case. He waited. The police set up a perimeter around the helicopter wreck and left people on guard as they scoured the place to find out what had happened. After a short while all the evidence on the table, including the metal suitcase, was put in a car and driven away. Gregory turned and walked away from the crime scene. He went to an all-night pharmacy and bought bandages so he could wrap his wound before he made a phone call.
The phone was answered with a voice made gravely by cigarette smoke, “Detective Evanstine.”
“Hello, Evanstine.”
There was a pause on the other end. “Mister Dufort? What can I do for you? I haven’t heard from Monsieur Golzine for a long while.”
Papa Dino was dead. The thought echoed in Gregory’s mind. “You’re going to do something for me, Evanstine.”
“Of course. I’m always at Monsieur Golzine’s disposal.”
“Yes. You are.” Evanstine had been bought and paid for long ago and did whatever Papa Dino told him to do. He was a stupid man and greedy beyond reason. However, he was useful. “You’re going to go to your evidence locker and steal something for me. Today a piece of evidence was brought in from a helicopter crash. A metal suitcase. You’re going to deliver it to me.”
“Hold on.” Gregory heard the noise of a chair scraping against the floor. “Let me get somewhere quiet.” Somewhere quiet clearly meant somewhere that he wouldn’t be overheard. A moment passed. “Right. You said a suitcase? What’s Monsieur Golzine want a suitcase for? What’s in it?”
“Do you really want to get that involved in Papa Dino’s business?”
“No! No. Of course not. Where do you want it?”
“The usual drop location in Central Park. Have it there in one hour.”
“One hour?! Look, this might take time and that’s only if I can get it without getting caught.”
Gregory closed his eyes and forced down his rising irritation. “Evanstine, do you remember Nicholas Beaumont?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what happened to him when he accidentally put that scratch on the side of Papa Dino’s favorite Rolls-Royce?”
“Y-yes.”
“Well, if you don’t get that suitcase to the drop location in Central Park in exactly one hour, I’m going to do to you, what Papa Dino did to Nicholas Beaumont, but I’m going to do it with a spoon.”
Another pause. “Right. Yes. One hour. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. It’ll be there. I won’t be there, but the suitcase will be there.”
“That’s a very wise decision. I’ll be waiting.”
One hour later, right on the dot, Gregory watched from concealment while Evanstine, dressed in a cheap overcoat with a cigarette hanging on his lips, nearly ran to the drop location. He carried a large plastic shopping bag, held protectively close to his chest. The moment he reached the duck pond, he set the plastic shopping bag on the ground near an overgrown lilac bush. He had left many things in that spot over the passed few years, mostly bits of evidence from cases that would have inconvenienced Papa Dino. Evanstine looked around, perhaps to see if he’d been spotted or perhaps to see if Gregory were around. He waited only a moment before he turned and walked quickly away.
Gregory waited for ten minutes and when no one came by and he couldn’t hear any sign of people nearby, he left his hiding spot and went to retrieve the package. Inside the plastic shopping bag, there was the metal suitcase. The lock was broken, melted by the heat of the burning helicopter, but it seemed otherwise intact. He put it back in the shopping bag and walked away. He found a bench to sit on and, with the shopping bag on his lap and his hand in his coat pocket with his loaded gun, he took a moment to think.
Blanca was going to be an issue and he wouldn’t be nearly so easy to deal with as Evanstine was.
He remembered the first time Papa Dino had hired Blanca. Not to capture Ash, but years ago when Papa Dino had decided Ash needed a teacher. Gregory had been there when Blanca had shown up, smiling and pleasant as he introduced himself at the door and said he had an appointment with Monsieur Golzine. He hadn’t seemed like much, but Papa Dino had paid handsomely for Blanca. He’d paid ten thousand dollars simply to have Blanca come to his mansion for a meeting to discuss Ash and plenty more fat paychecks had followed that one after Blanca had agreed to take on the role of Ash’s teacher. It was a role Blanca took seriously. Even before Blanca had formally accepted the job, Gregory had come upon a scene in Papa Dino’s garden. Marvin and Blanca had faced off, young Ash, only fourteen-years-old, cowering against a wall between the two of them. Even as he’d approached them, Gregory had seen that it would have gotten ugly if he hadn’t told Marvin to go to Papa Dino. Several days later it did get ugly when Blanca broke Marvin’s wrist after catching him assaulting Ash.
That moment had marked a change in Ash. Ash had gone from avoiding Blanca as much as he did every other adult in the household to a wide-eyed devotee following Blanca around like a shadow. After being saved, Ash had never hidden from Blanca, unless it was part of his lessons. He would go willingly when Blanca called for him, a dog called to heel. Papa Dino had been amused by it, for a time. When Marvin had complained to Papa Dino about the broken wrist, Papa Dino had suggested that Marvin keep out of Blanca’s way, but done nothing else. Blanca was too valuable when it came to Ash’s future worth - far more valuable than Marvin. A first-rate assassin - some would say THE premiere assassin in the world - Blanca had been hired to teach everything from espionage to assassination and everything in between because he was the best. Blanca was dangerous. One-on-one, he was probably one of the most dangerous people on Earth, which was why Gregory had made no effort at all to rescue Angie when Blanca carried him away and had no intention of crossing Blanca’s path. He wouldn’t be able to use his hideout as he was sure Angie would have sold him out.
He had his shoulder to deal with. The bullet wound was immensely painful, though he’d had enough bullets in him to know it wasn’t a fatal shot. He did consider going to a hospital to get it taken care of, but it was too risky. If Blanca was looking for him, as Gregory was sure he was, then Blanca would surely look in the hospitals as he must have known Gregory had been shot. He decided against it; he’d rather take the bullet out himself or let it stay where it was than run into Blanca.
Later, still nursing his wound, Gregory sat in a small donut shop with a cup of coffee in front of him. The suitcase, still in the shopping bag, was on his lap. There was a television in the donut shop, hung in one of the corners of the room and Gregory came to attention when a news report mentioned Club Cod.
“... Club Cod restaurant, in the middle of Manhattan, with a truly horrific story. On a tip from an award-winning journalist the NYPD has conducted a raid on the Club Cod seafood restaurant on the suspicion of human trafficking. We’ve been informed by Captain Jenkins of the NYPD that the police arrived at 8 a.m. and took into custody every person inside the building. There were no patrons as it was so early in the day, but there were four adults taken for questioning. They also found twenty-seven children between the ages of eight and fourteen dead. We aren’t clear on exactly what happened, but we do know that police suspect Club Cod was being used as a headquarters for both a child prostitution ring and child pornography, keeping children as sex slaves.”
Gregory stopped listening when several gurneys were rolled out of Club Cod, all of them had white shrouds covering very small bodies. He knew what had happened. It was the emergency procedure for Club Cod. In the event of a raid - which had always seemed impossible because they had bought cops on the force paid to keep that sort of thing from happening - the merchandise was to be killed to prevent them from talking and the staff was to run. Papa Dino’s opinion had been that if any of the staff was caught, it was their own fault for not running fast enough.
Drinking the last mouthful of his coffee, Gregory reflected on the news. Club Cod was being investigated and several of the staff had been taken into custody. He had no doubt who was responsible for the mess. No doubt at all. Who else would be responsible but Ash? Ash was the only piece of merchandise to ever survive Club Cod. Who else knew about it and could tell? Gregory had known the boy would be trouble the moment he’d seen the glitter in Papa Dino’s eyes when that fool, Marvin Crosby, had brought Ash around and offered to sell him to Papa Dino. That little eleven-year-old boy had been innocent enough, young and blonde - exactly Papa Dino’s taste - but Ash had shown signs of intelligence and guile. He showed signs of being potentially dangerous and Papa Dino, rather than killing the boy, had lusted after that danger.
With his hand resting on the metal suitcase, Gregory wallowed in his rotten thoughts. It was all Ash’s fault. If it hadn’t been for Ash, Papa Dino would be alive. Club Cod would be running like clockwork and of no interest to police officers or news reporters. Gregory would be in his apartment in Papa Dino’s mansion, putting on one of his very nice suits as he got ready to start his day. He wouldn’t be in a third-rate donut shop drinking foul coffee in a filthy suit stained with his own blood. It was entirely Ash’s fault. Gregory’s hand tightened into a fist. It was time to find out what Papa’s alley cat was up to.
A ringing drew Gregory out of his thoughts and he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. The number wasn’t familiar, but it was possible that another one of Papa Dino’s people had survived and was trying to make contact so he answered it. “Hello?”
“Hello, Gregory.”
He wasn’t entirely shocked to hear Blanca’s voice. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to know that you are still alive before I started hunting. If you were dead, I wouldn’t want to waste my time. Thank you.” Then Blanca hung up.
Gregory stared at his phone, then closed it. He stood up from his seat and, taking the metal suitcase with him, left the donut shop. He walked across the street to a small park where he went to the edge of a large fountain. He didn’t hesitate for even a minute before he pitched the phone in the fountain. It hit the water with a splash and when it sunk the sunlight caught on the ripping water like liquid fire. He walked away before the ripples settled, his mind entirely focused on finding a hiding place Blanca wouldn’t find.
Phil -
When Ash, less than gracefully, agreed to go into protective custody, Phil breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled out his phone immediately to send Tony a message to say they’d be bringing the witness home in a few hours, with any luck, and to get a couple of rooms ready. There were other details to see to - he would have to call Nick Fury and let him know all was well, they would need to find out who’d attacked Ash, talk to the police about the attack, and...
The hospital room’s door opened and Ash’s doctor, a middle-aged woman with gray streaks in her dark hair and a no-nonsense demeanor, walked in. She looked at Ash with a decidedly disapproving frown, which Ash smiled at. “Your nurse told me you want to leave. I can’t change your mind, Mister Lynx?”
Ash shook his head. “Sorry, Myra. I got things to do.”
“Sure, things like dying if that wound gets infects or starts bleeding or... you get my point.” She sighed and shook her head. “I have some discharge information for you, if your guests would like to step out of the room for a minute?”
“Naw,” Ash said with a shake of his head. “They’re alright. ‘Sides, I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to tell me - take my meds, come back if anything changes or gets worse. Get lots of rest. Eat and drink. Yadda, yadda. Right?”
The doctor, Myra, rolled her eyes. “No, not just ‘yadda, yadda’.” She handed him several pieces of paper. “Those are your instructions and dietary requirements. You’re not allergic to any painkillers, so I’ll give you...”
“Nothing.”
Everyone in the room went quiet. “Are you sure about that?” Steve asked. “That’s a pretty serious injury. There’s nothing heroic about enduring unnecessary pain.”
“I don’t like drugs. I’m fine.” Ash took the papers from Doctor Myra and scanned them so quickly that Phil seriously doubted Ash was actually reading it. “This is good. Thanks for the info.”
Doctor Myra was clearly not impressed with Ash’s disinterested attitude. “You’re going to die young, if you’re not careful! You’ve been in here three times in the past two years and the last time you almost didn’t make it. I don’t want you back here for anything more serious than the sniffles. You must take better care of yourself.” Despite what Ash had said, she filled out the prescription for the painkillers just in case he changed his mind, she’d said, and gave him careful instructions about when, how, and how much to use. Then she gave him a prescription for antibiotics, which he didn’t argue about.
It was then that Max stepped forward. “”Cuse me, but I was a military medic. If you can give me the information, I can see that he gets looked after.”
Ash sulked. “What am I? A dog? I don’t need to be ‘looked after’ by anyone.”
“I can help, too.” Bruce stepped forward after a moment and gave Doctor Myra a sheepish smile. “Ash is going to stay at my home, so I’d like to know what he needs.”
With Ash’s permission, Doctor Myra told them instructions for Ash’s recovery, including danger signs to look for and a very strict demand that he do absolutely nothing but rest for at least a week. “He’s not only got the stab wound on his torso, but he’s also got one on the shoulder, and we had to remove a bullet from just above the stab wound in his torso. No activity, no excitement!” She gave Ash an stern look and Phil guessed she was only just holding back from shaking her finger at him.
With the beatific expression of an angel, Ash humbly agreed and thanked her sweetly for her time. He also took the time to ask her to thank the nurses and the L.N.A.s for all their help.
“Don’t try to play me, sonny.” Doctor Myra sniffed. “You’ve been my patient three times - I’m used to your flim-flam!” Then she did shake her finger at him. “Do not come back here with anything life threatening for at least a year! Understand?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Doctor Myra huffed and crossed her arms. Then she sighed and her shoulders slumped and she leveled a serious look at Ash. “Look... Ash. Honestly, if you feel worse or worried about anything, please come back. There will be a warm bed waiting for you.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not stupid.” He kept smiling right until Doctor Myra walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. “Max, I need a phone. I’ve got business to deal with. And my gun. Who the Hell took my gun?” He looked accusingly around the room. “I had it when I went into the library and now it’s gone, so someone here better have it.”Ash looked at Bruce, then at Steve, and demanded, “Which one of you has it? Or did they take it from me here?”
“I took it from you at the library,” Steve said. “Don’t worry, you don’t need it here.”
Ash’s eyes narrowed. “Give it to me.”
“Guns aren’t allowed in hospitals. You’re also surrounded by some of the most powerful people in the world whose only mission at the moment is to keep you safe. You don’t need it.”
“I have a permit, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Steve’s eyes went wide. “You need a permit for a gun?”
Phil would explain later.
“What is this?” Ash said, hotly. “Robbery? It’s mine! I paid good money for that.”
“I’m not robbing you and there’s no point in getting upset. I don’t have it, anymore.”
“What? Where is it?”
“Well, I had to give it to the police, didn’t I? I can’t bring a gun into a hospital and I had to make sure you were alright. I’m sure they’ll take care of it.”
Ash let out a dramatic sigh. “Man, now I have to buy a new one.”
“Well,” Jessica stood up from where she been sitting and handed Michael to Max. “Now that that’s all settled, I need to get a few things from the apartment if we’re all going to be on lock-down. Michael and I need clothes and our toiletries, if nothing else.”
“’N my teddy bear.” Michael said from where he was happily seated on his dad’s lap.
“And your teddy bear,” Jessica agreed.
Ash said, “Find me a phone? Mine broke. I’ll pay you for it.”
“I’ll get you one.” Jessica kissed Max and her son, then grabbed her purse. “ “If you’ll all excuse me.” She started for the door, but Phil stepped in front of her and said,
“We’ll send someone along just to make sure you get there and back safely. We can meet you at the Avenger’s Tower.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “You are all supposed to be looking after that brat.” She pointed a finger over her shoulder at Ash who, apparently, took no offense at the insult. “And my son. I won’t have you neglecting the children.”
“We did just agree to protective custody for all of you,” Phil reminded her. “Ash will be safe here. Natasha, will you go along with Ms. Randy?”
“Of course.” Natasha opened the door for Jessica.
“And I’m not meeting you at your tower,” Jessica stated, firmly. “Ash needs clothes unless you’d like to see him walking around in public with his bottom on display to the world in that hospital johnny. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
There was nothing to do after that but wait for Jessica to return with clothes for Ash so everyone made themselves comfortable. Phil leaned against a corner and pulled out his phone to send the messages he needed to send. He almost missed when Clint, quiet and solemn, went to stand near Ash’s bed and asked, “You don’t have to answer, but can I ask a question?”
Ash shrugged. “I can’t stop you.”
“I heard about what they say happened in Club Cod and you told Phil you were a survivor of Club Cod.”
Phil’s eyes lifted from his phone to discretely watch Ash’s reaction, wary for any emotional response, but Ash seemed just as calm as he had been at the Chang Dai restaurant. Phil didn’t see much of a reaction at all, in fact. Ash just sat there and waited. Watching Clint was just as important. Clint, who was normally so calm, so at ease with himself, shifted from foot-to-foot and his hands twitched uneasily at his sides. Whatever ran through his mind disturbed him and Phil was uneasy just watching him. He had known Clint for a good few years and didn’t think he’d ever seen him so visibly upset.
Finally, Clint asked, “How did they get you? How did you come to be at Club Cod?”
“You’re nosy.” Ash turned his face away from Clint and looked suddenly interested in the trees outside.
“Yeah. I’ve been told that before. So, what happened?”
“None of your business.”
Max cleared his throat. “Actually... Ash... that’s the whole point of all this. Isn’t it? You’re going to tell the whole world exactly what happened. Don’t get me wrong - you don’t have to tell him anything, but, sooner or later, he’s going to find out. If you don’t want to tell one person, will you be able to stand up in front of the world? I know this is damned hard for you, God knows I don’t think I’d have the courage to talk about, but if you want to bring those people down, you will have to talk about it and not everyone’s going to be nice about it. Some people are going to have really scummy reactions to you if you tell. If you don’t want to do this, tell me. I can stop this. I can use the hard evidence we have to take those people to trial and leave you out of it entirely.”
Ash crumpled the hospital blankets in his fists. “I don’t want to talk about. I’d rather have my left arm chopped off than talk about. But I have to. I HAVE to let the whole world know about them or they’ll just do it again and again and again. They hurt me. They hurt a lot of kids. I won’t let them get away with it. They won’t get away with it just because I’m a coward. I will give every name to the cops and I will stand up in court and tell about every dirty, filthy thing those monsters did!” He glared at Max and then turned that glare on Clint. He said, without any shame, “I was living on the streets and I was found by a goddamned perv who sold me to the perv owner of Club Cod. He put me to work there. I was eleven. Any more questions?”
“Do you have family?”
Ash’s glare vanished and his face went eerily still, like a statue. “I’m fine on my own.”
Phil didn’t like the sound of that and made a mental note to do a little research on his own and find out if Ash had any family. More than likely, that sort of thing would turn up when the police did their investigation, but Phil wasn’t above helping. ‘More than likely,’ Phil thought, ‘Ash is an orphan.’ It wasn’t certain, though. If he did have family, they would surely want to know where he was. He honestly couldn’t remember Griffin ever mentioning his parents, though he’d talk until the cows came home about his little brother. There was also the matter of Griffin to look into. Phil didn’t see how Griffin’s fate had anything to do with Club Cod, but Max had mentioned that it would come up in the trial, so there had to be a connection.
Clint didn’t look entirely satisfied with the answers he’d gotten from Ash, but he let it drop and stepped away from the bed. He moved to stand next to Phil and whispered, “In the circus where I grew up... there was...” He hesitated, then stopped. He smiled at Phil. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”
It WAS something and Phil didn’t like it when his team was bothered. Clint didn’t talk about the circus. Phil only knew about the circus where Clint had been raised because Clint had to answer certain questions when he’d joined S.H.I.E.L.D., but Clint certainly didn’t have heart-to-heart conversations about his early life. That he would bring it up at all was a big warning bell. Another something to deal with back at the tower with a little privacy.
Michael shook a finger at Ash. “You said a bad word.”
“Sorry, Michael. I’ll put a penny in the swear jar, ‘K?”
Less than an hour later, Jessica and Natasha returned with two bags full of clothes, toothbrushes, and other little things that might be needed. Natasha looked at Phil. “No issues. All is quiet.”
Jessica handed a pair of gray sweat pants and a sweatshirt to Ash. “Sorry. It’s probably not your style, but it looks warm and it’ll cover you head to foot.”
Ash took the clothes and promised, “I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s a present, Brat. Just say ‘thank you’ and get dressed. The sooner you get to your new hideout, the sooner you can get some rest.” She looked around the room. “I think everyone can go take a hike for a few minutes while he gets changed.” And her attitude clearly stated that she wouldn’t deal kindly with anyone who ignored her.
Max did ignore her. He handed their son to her and said, “I’ll stay in the room in case he needs help.”
“I don’t help to put my pants on!” Ash protested.
“Someone stuck four inches of metal into your belly and you’ve lost entirely too much blood in the past few days. Let’s not forget the bullet you didn’t tell me about or your shoulder. Forgive me if I don’t want you passing out the minute you stand up.”
A half-an-hour later, they were nearly ready to leave. All the proper paperwork was filled out and Ash, wearing his new clothes, sat on the edge of the bed, tapping away on the cell phone Jessica had given him. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing, but from his expression, Phil guessed he wasn’t watching funny cat videos. He’d said he needed a gun and Detective Dickinson had said Ash was not only in a gang, but he was the leader of several gangs that worked together, like an emperor of the streets. Was he contacting his people? Giving orders to kill the person who’d attacked him? It was disturbing to even think about someone Ash’s age involved in such things, but Phil wasn’t fool enough to ignore the realities of life.
The moment a nurse brought in a wheelchair for Ash, Ash had his hackles up, again. “I don’t need to be wheeled out of here. Like Hell I’m gonna be seen that weak.”
“It’s hospital policy,” Ash’s nurse told him. “It’s only to your vehicle.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Save it for someone who needs it.”
The argument that was sure to break out, as Phil could see Ash tensing for a fight, was broken off when Michael slipped off his dad’s lap and took Ash’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll ride with you.” He smiled up at Ash with such honest care that Phil actually saw the moment when Ash’s defensive wall slipped. His face softened for the flash of an instant before it hardened, again.
Ash stuffed his hands in his pockets and huffed. “If Michael wants a ride...” He then growled at Max’s smug look, “Only to the parking lot! Got it?! I’m no invalid!”
So, with Ash seated in his wheelchair, grumpy and sulky, and Michael sitting on Ash’s lap, Ash was pushed out of the room with more attitude than anyone who had just suffered a serious injury and been through surgery deserved. Phil was more than ready to get to the tower and have Ash safely hidden away from anyone who might hurt him. They made it all the way to the hospital’s lobby before they stopped and Phil, taken-aback by the sudden uneasy atmosphere given off by both Ash and Max, tensed for a fight. He quickly scanned the room, but didn’t see any threats. He was aware that, as he was scanning for danger, his whole team had picked up on the discomfort and had moved silently into position around the people under their protection in a way that might have seemed casual to most people, but Phil knew was good enough to keep Ash, Max, Jessica, and Michael safe, no matter what came at them.
“Yut-Lung.” Ash almost growled the name. He stood up from the wheelchair and put Michael down on the seat before he stepped forward to face the person.
Yut-Lung was a Chinese boy who looked like he was about the same age as Ash. He had very long hair pulled back into a severe pony-tail. He was small and almost delicate looking, even more-so than Ash. He was also dressed very well in an expensive looking overcoat and a fine suit. The two of them stared at each other like two tigers who’d unexpectedly crossed paths and were sizing each other up, deciding if a fight was necessary. Ash made as if to leave The Avenger’s protective circle, but Steve, who took point, as always, put out a hand to keep Ash from stepping in front of him.
“You know him?” Steve asked, indicating Yut-Lung.
Ash nodded. “Yeah. We know each other. This is Lee Yut-Lung. He runs some things in Chinatown.”
Max had stepped in front of his wife and son and glared.
Yut-Lung smiled. “Goodness, my dear friend. What an entourage you have.” His eyes didn’t leave Ash for even a moment. “Such illustrious company you’re keeping.”
“What do you want?”
Yut-Lung turned his nose up. “Nothing to do with you. Sing had to come here and I’ve come as moral support.”
“You? Moral support? You couldn’t morally support a snake.”
“I’ll have you know that Sing has been a great help to me as I wrestle Chinatown back into order. His older brother was just found, shot. He’s dead.”
Ash’s jaw tightened.
“Sing’s upset,” Yut-Lung continued. “So I’ve come here to support my underling. I’d ask what you’re doing here, but,” he made a show of sneering at the wheelchair, “It looks like someone’s feeling a little frail.”
“If this weren’t a hospital, I’d put a bullet right between your eyes!”
“Hrumph! Savage!” Yut-Lung looked just beyond Ash. “There’s Sing, now.”
Sing was even younger than Ash, fourteen or fifteen-years-old. He was a small boy and his eyes were red and swollen. He also glared murderously at Ash. A long moment passed, then Ash slipped around Steve and said, over his shoulder, “Wait here.” And he walked outside, standing just on the other side of the hospital’s glass doors.
When Clint went to follow Ash, Max stopped him and said, “Leave him be. He knows what he’s doing.”
“We can’t protect him from in here.” Clint stared after Ash.
“He won’t thank you for interfering and Sing won’t hurt him, not really. Just... Ash needs to handle things his way.”
So they all watched, tense, when Sing followed Ash outside. They stood a few feet apart and words were exchanged. Sing said something. Ash nodded his head. Sing said something else. Ash pulled up the bottom of his sweatshirt and showed off the large bandage covering the knife wound. He said something to Sing. Sing hauled off and slugged Ash right on the jaw.
Phil didn’t wait before he rushed outside. The doors opened just in time for him to hear Sing shout, with tears running down his face, “He was my brother!”
To be continued...
A/N: Dear readers,
Thank you so much for your kind reviews, I appreciate all of them very much. I wanted to let everyone know that the next chapter will be delayed a week because I’m working on getting an original novel published on Amazon in about a week. If you’d like to check it out, please look for, The Paper Treasure.
Until next chapter...