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Ian’s foot crunched down on broken glass. The warehouse Martin picked for the rendezvous was sketchy even for his standards. They hardly scouted out the place before, and with how easy it was to access the location, Ian was sure they weren’t the only people using it for clandestine interactions. There were likely squatters here as well, given the trash, and the lingering smell of camp fire smoke.
“Something doesn’t feel right, Martin.” Ian whispered, as a shiver went up his spine. He had the feeling that someone unknown was watching him.
“Ian.”
Ian knew that voice. He turned on his heals gun pointing at the figure clad in black emerging from the darkness behind them.
“Yassen.” He muttered, not sure if he was feeling relieved or terrified that it was him.
“Small world, no?”
The cogs in Ian’s brain spun quickly, pieces of the puzzle of Point Blanc slid together flawlessly. Yassen was involved, and if Yassen was involved that meant Scorpia was involved too. “How was New York?” He questioned
Yassen’s face remained rather neutral, yet there was a sparkle in his eyes that showed he was impressed. “I didn’t see much of it. Mainly the inside of an elevator shaft.”
“ And Serenkov?”
“Serenkov?” Yassen repeats with a tilt of his head, “Wasn’t me. Someone else.”
Ian paused, and took a breath in through his nose. Yassen admitted his involvement, admitted there were others involved. There was no denial, no hiding of secrets, just truth. It felt good for someone to be honest for once.
But, Ian knew honestly came with a price.
“Where do we go from here, Yas?” Ian asked, and wondered What is the price of your honestly?
“Well, I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere.” Yassen spoke, his voice slightly wavering. The tone wasn’t apologetic, it wasn’t even sad, instead it was soft- soft like funeral voices.
“Drop the gun.” Martin hissed from behind him. For a second Ian had forgotten that Martin was even behind him, since he was too focused on Yassen’s appearance. If it was anyone else, Ian wouldn’t have frozen and hesitated, but why did it have to come down to the two of them in this warehouse.
There was no doubting that the gun Martin had wasn’t now focused on him. The realisation came at the same moment when he realised that Martin had set him up from the start.
“You have no idea who you are working for…” Ian addressed Martin.
“I know what I’m being paid-“
“Oh, You really think you’re going to be around long enough to enjoy it, do you?” He countered
“Drop the gun.”
Ian complied letting the gun go. It clattered against the floor of the warehouse.
Ian stood still, frozen as time seemed to move too fast around him. He boiled over with anger at Martin, and his gut still stinging with feeling of betrayal. Yassen’s glaze never left him for a second, they bore into him as if they could carve his flesh.
“Who else have you told about this?” Yassen asked Martin.
“No one. He-“ Martin gestured to Ian, “Was just running down a hunch, that’s all.”
“No one knows.” Yassen said, more a conformation of what Martin had responded. They bickered about him as if he wasn’t even there, as if he was already dead. “And this meeting?”
“I hid it in the Varna files, like you asked.”
Varna… Ian thought- perhaps one of his last thoughts- thats an odd place for Yassen to get Martin to hide the files.
Yassen’s gun clicked. It pulled Ian back to the present, and to the sickening reality of his death.
“I’m sorry, Ian.” Yassen said, and Ian believed him. After all, the price of his honesty was death. “I really am.”
“So am I.”
The gun fired.
A flash of blight white light burned his retinas.
The deafening sound of the gunshot blocked his ears.
A second of blinding all encompassing pain.
He felt himself fall to his knees, nausea and pain swept over him.
Once the world stopped spinning around him, and he managed to take in a sharp much needed breath of air, he realised that he was very much still alive.
Yassen was starring down at him with a neutral expression.
The reality of being alive was quickly overshadowed by another wave of pain from his arm, he reached his hand over, and it came away covered in crimson blood. His crimson blood.
Behind him, Martin was limp as a rag doll and very much dead. Ian didn’t know what was more shocking, Yassen sparing his life, or shooting Martin. Ian quickly turned back to face Yassen.
“You shot me!?”
“I’m not as good of a shot as John.” Yassen shrugged, indifferent, “You will live.”
“as John? I don’t understand-?”
“We’ve done this sort of thing before. Keep pressure on the wound and um, breath easy” Yassen said, turning on his heels to walk away.
Ian reached forward; grabbing his rejected pistol, sliding the safety down with his thumb and pointing it at Yassen.
“No.” Ian demanded, tears burred his vision, “You don’t get to walk away. Not this time.”
Yassen paused, “That’s not a good idea.”
“I don’t care whats a ‘good idea’ anymore,” Ian countered, his words a slurred hiss through the throbbing pain radiating from the gunshot wound, “I want the truth.”
Yassen sighed, and glanced over his shoulder at Ian. “What truth?”
“Why did you spare me?"
"because John saved my life years ago. " Yassen said his fingers tracing the outline of the scar carefully, "It a debt I paid forward. That's all."
“Is that why you let me stop Sayle and his smallpox virus?” Ian questioned
"Sayle was a mad man who wanted to use Scorpia's chemical warfare against innocents. That was personal, and a great blow to Scorpia's reputation."
“So why do you stay with Scorpia if your against what they do?”
Yassen sighed, his stone mask dissolving around him, as he looked sadly at Ian, “Someone had to finish what John started, I figured it should be me.”
Realisation dawned on Ian for the second time that night, as he lowered his gun, “Your the department’s mole inside of Scorpia.”
“You delirious with pain, Ian.” Yassen responded, his lips curling up softly as he spoke.
“You wanted Martin to get caught that’s why you had him put it in the Varna files.”
“I wasn’t expecting he would bring you for his back up.” Yassen apologized.
“What are you going to tell them?”
Yassen shrugged, “Martin was untrustworthy.”
“Yeah he was.” Ian agreed then softly added, “And?”
“Go home, Ian. You have people to go home to.” Yassen said turning around to leave, “Stop digging into things, and maybe I wouldn't have to keep saving your life.”
“Noted.”
Yassen gave him one last look, almost as if to say ‘I don’t believe that for a second’ and then he turned and walked back into the shadows he came from.