Chapter Text
Mount Rushmore stood towering above the crowd. Below them tourists snapped photos, as unsupervised children ran past each other in an impromptu game of tag, and the murmur of dozens of conversations in all kinds of languages blurred steadily into one congested hum.
It was day three on their American road trip west. A grand adventure that they spent almost a year planning as a reward- no more a celebration- for finishing their first year of university.
Kyra and Tom stood on the Mount Rushmore viewing platform, glazing upwards at the American presidents memorialised in stone.
“I don’t get it,” Kyra said. Her gaze narrowed onto the carvings before her. After a moment, she tilted her head to the right, as if the change in angle would suddenly make sense.
“Come on! Isn’t it majestic?” Tom replied excitedly, throwing his arms out dramatically as if he could encompass the entire Mount Rushmore with a single gesture. “This is a feat of human engineering! It took 400 men fourteen years to build this! And, no one died in the process.”
“It’s just… dead people carved into a mountain,” Kyra said, unimpressed.
“Not just any dead people,” Tom countered, pointing to each head in turn, “George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln!” He paused for a second to build up dramatic pause, “And lastly, that’s Theodore Roosevelt-“
“The guy from Night at the Museum?” Kyra interrupted, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes! Exactly.” Tom grinned. He was unfazed by her skepticism, and continued to ramble off facts about the historical significance of the monument as Kyra tuned him out.
She turned her head catching Alex’s eye as he returned from the gift shop. ‘Help me’ she mouthed to him.
Alex grinned, and shook his head playfully. ‘What did Tom do this time?’ He responded in his own silent whisper, as he moved back to the group stopping beside Kyra.
“So, What did I miss?” He responded, his eyes drifting from Kyra’s confused-indifferent expression to Tom still gesturing around enthusiastically.
“Nothing much,” Tom responded, eyeing the gift shop bag in Alex’s hand. “What did ya get?”
Alex opened up the bag and pulled out the contents. “A hat for myself and, as always, a magnet for Jack’s growing collection,” Alex replied with a grin.
With his free hand, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out their passports. These weren't their official government passports, instead, they were a U.S. National park passport guide book they had bought when they visited their first national park- the Badlands- a few days ago. It was full of facts about the parks and had a section to collect stamps as they went. He handed them each their NP passport, “Three national parks down, three more to go.”
Tom took his passport eagerly, flipping through the stamps with a satisfied hum. “Nice, nice, mate. Only three more? Feels weird that our trip is almost over.”
Kyra frowned a little as she once again glanced up at the towering monument. “Technically, this is a national memorial, not a park.”
“Technically, Kyra’s right,” Alex said, flashing her a sly smile. “But it’s still on the NP passport so it’s fair game.”
Kyra rolled her eyes, as a small smile tugged at her lips. “I’ll let it slide this time.”
“I wanted to know if you wanted ice cream,” Alex asked, gesturing to the building behind him. “The line wasn’t that bad when I walked past. We should get some before the next tourist bus drops off more people.”
The three of them moved to stand in line. Alex had been right—it was short, with only a few tourists ahead of them. In no time, they were each holding their own ice cream cone. Apparently, this was Thomas Jefferson’s famous Ice cream recipe. It was supposedly the same flavour of the first original ice cream ever made.
After trying it, Alex thought his vanilla ice cream was pretty good.
“So, Deadwood next?” Kyra asked between spoonful's. Her ice cream was decked out and loaded to the max with toppings.
“Yep! Deadwood.” Alex said, thinking aloud the plan he had come up with months ago. “We can do some sightseeing around the town, stop for lunch, then hit the road again. It’s not too far from our hotel.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tom responded, "I've heard the place is a mix of old-west nostalgia, and modern day Wild West.” He counts off the points on his fingers as he speaks, “Gambling, saloons, gold mines- Oh, and don’t forget the ghosts!”
“Ghosts?” Kyra raised an eyebrow, “You know they arn’t real, right?”
“They are real if you believe they are,” Tom commented, crossing his arms and casually leaned back into his chair.
“It’s already midday.” Alex said as he stood up and stretched his back, “we really should get going.”
As they walked back toward the parking lot, Alex felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine. He slowed his pace, sending a glance over his shoulder at the crowd behind them. another tourist bus just dropped off passengers. They moved about in a chaotic hurry as if they were too impatient to wait to see the monument. Despite that something felt… off.
Alex couldn’t explain it. It was a feeling, like water crawling up your spine. The best way to describe it would be to experience it yourself. It was like being watched, observed, through the scope of someone's rifle. Enough to know you were being targeted but not enough to be able to predict when they were going to pull the trigger.
“Everything okay?” Kyra asked, her voice cutting though and pulling Alex back to the present. She had noticed him lagging behind and wanted to check on him.
“Yeah,” Alex said quickly, shaking off the feeling the best he could. “Just thought I saw someone I recognized.”
Kyra’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press further.
Even as they reached the car, Alex couldn’t shake the uncomfortable sensation. He scanned the parking lot as Tom fiddled with the GPS, but no one stood out. Maybe it was just his imagination. Or maybe it wasn’t.
“Ready to roll?” Tom called from the driver’s seat, oblivious to Alex’s unease.
“Yeah,” Alex said, climbing into the passenger seat. He gave the parking lot one last glance before shutting the door. “Let’s go.”
“Those accents of yours are something else,” the waitress said with a grin, tucking her notepad into her apron pocket as she leaned lightly against the counter. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“England,” Alex answered, glancing up for only a second from his menu to see that the others had nodded in agreement as well.
“Well, that makes sense,” she said, nodding thoughtfully. “I had a teacher from England once. Pronounced his words differently; Maths instead of math. Guess you’d call it the proper way, given English comes from England, huh?”
Tom smirked, glancing at Alex. “We might.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Figures. Anyway, y’all take your time. I’ll bring some waters while you decide.”
The waitress walked away, leaving them to study their menus. A few patrons sat scattered at the counter, and an elderly couple occupied a corner booth, their low conversation blending into the faint background noise. Alex thought the ambulance was sound track quality - the chick of silverware on plates, sounds of food frying from the kitchen, and the blend of conversation all came together perfectly.
Alex glanced out the window, catching how the sun seemed to dip lower into the sky. A warm glow settled over the streets of Deadwood. It was like the town was locked in time, stuck somewhere between the past and present. The buildings- mostly, brick and sandstone remain just as prominent and vibrant as they were when they were first built. The only thing that seemed to change in the town was the modern cars and the ever rotating group of tourists.
Suddenly, a loud bang split the air, followed by the sharp crack of rapid gunfire. Alex flinched, his body instinctively tensing as his eyes darted toward the sound.
The waitress chuckled from across the room, pulling his attention to her. “Don’t worry, hun. It’s not real. It’s just the shootout.”
Tom straightened in his seat, raising an eyebrow. “Shootout?”
“Yeah, it’s a live-action theatre thing,” She explained casually as if she did so all the time. Her hand wiped down the counter with a rag. “You know, the whole ‘high noon’ gunslinger showdown. You just missed this afternoon’s performance. The next one’s at seven.”
Alex exhaled slowly, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. It wasn’t real. Just a show, something that was a part of the town’s wild west inspired charm. He tried to shake off the edge of anxiety that had crept inside of him. After everything that had happened in the past few years, this road trip was supposed to be their chance to relax and forget about it all. Gun shots- even fake ones- brought back too many bad memoried.
“I’m stepping outside for a bit,” Alex said, sliding out of the booth.
“You alright?” Tom asked, watching him closely. “I can come with you.”
“No, I’m fine,” Alex insisted, shaking his head. “Just… order me whatever you’re getting.”
Tom grinned mischievously. “Bold move, mate.”
Alex rolled his eyes but didn’t bother replying.He knew it was a risk to give Tom that much power over his food choice, but at this moment he couldn't care. Plus- it was an American diner, there really weren't any bad choices. Fish and chips? A bison burger? Heck, nothing can be as bad as the deep fried butter Tom made him try a few days ago.
He pushed through the saloon-style doors and stepped into the warm summer air. He glanced down the quiet street faintly watching crowds disperse from the town square. That must’ve been the source of the noise—the staged shootout. Part of Alex was curious to see the show, but the other part of it felt queasy. He had been around enough death in the past few years,that spectating a show that glorified it just felt wrong.
He leaned back against the diner’s sandstone wall. His heart was still racing. He knew logically there was no danger, but his body didn’t get the same message.
It didn't help that he kept seeing flashes of people out of the corner of his eyes, like ghosts following him from his past.
He shook his head. It was all just paranoia.
He had to calm down, and let this go. It wasn’t healthy. But, when did he ever have healthy coping mechanisms? The least he could do was try to enjoy this trip.
What was it that Tom had said? Ghosts were only real if you believed they were?
He saw a movement across the street. It was a man walking down the street, dark hair, and dark clothes despite the summer heat. Alex’s heart skiped. It could have been anyone, but the way the man moved… it was familiar. Too familiar. His stomach dropped. No way.
Without thinking, he stepped towards the alley, sprinting across the street before the rational part of his mind could tell him to stop. This was probably nothing. There was no way Yassen Gregorovich was in the USA, let alone Deadwood South Dakota on a sleepy Thursday in July.
Odds were it was just an innocent passerby. He was seeing things again, visible hallucinations from the gunshots earlier. ghosts
But the urge to follow the stranger was stronger then his doubts. There was no harm if it was a stranger, and well… if it was Yassen…. Alex could see what mischief he was up to.
He glanced behind him at the dinner, making sure the others hadn’t noticed yet. Tom and Kyra were still inside, absorbed in their conversation, so Alex slipped into the alley after the Yassen lookalike.
It was quiet in the alley, and despite his best attempt to be silent his footsteps still echoed softly off the narrow walls as he crept closer. As he rounded the corner, he saw Yassen again, standing with a two other men in a cluster, talking in low, urgent voices.
Alex paused, instinctively pressing himself against the wall, peeking around the corner. He didn’t know what he expected, but spotting Yassen in this clandestine meeting sent shivers down his spine. Alex knew he had stumbled upon something. And, if Yassen’s involved whatever it was, well, it wasn’t good.
He should get back to his friends and warn them what he had seen. Then they can get out of town before trouble can find them-
“What the hell are you doing here?” Came the gruff voice behind him, and Alex’s eyes widened in fear. He was caught.
Before Alex could move, a hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around. He saw a burly goon, comedically dressed up like a wild-west sheriff, but Alex had a feeling he was anything but.
“I- uh- took a wrong turn?” Alex blurted out, his mind scrambling for an excuse as the goon’s grip tightened on his shoulder. Alex would have loved to punch the man, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.
The low murmur of voices behind him stopped abruptly. Alex didn’t need to look to know Yassen had noticed the commotion anyway. There was a pause, before Yassen’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.
“Alex.” His tone was sharp, but beneath the layer of calculating calm, there was a flicker of disbelief or disappointment. Probably both. The group parted slightly, and Yassen stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he took in Alex’s presence.
“We really need to stop meeting like this.” Alex mummered in response, not really sorry.
Yassen’s jaw tightened for a traction of a second- a tell that Alex recognised. Yassen was… worried, concerned. Someone had the man spooked, and it likely wasn’t him.
“What are you doing here?” Yassen demanded to know.
Alex crossed his arms definitely the best he could with the goon’s iron grip around his bicep. “I could ask you the same thing? Last I checked, you weren't a cowboy and hanging out in Deadwood among…” Alex glanced around at the group of goons. Each one dressed differently. One in a suit and tie, the other dressed up like a cowboy, and the last wearing a T-shirt and jeans. “Whatever their deal is.- Look, Yassen, this isn’t your style. What happened to the flashy billionaires with world ending plots?”
The goon holding Alex let out a snort, “This is rich. You two know each other.”
“Hardly,” Yassen replied coolly, stepping closer. “This is between us. Let him go.”
The man didn’t budge. Instead, he tightened his grip on Alex, making him wince in pain. “Sorry, but he’s not supposed to be here.”
Before Yassen could respond, the goon in the suit - likely the one in charge, given that the suit was Armani- spoke,“Maybe we should take him back with us.”
“Let. Him. Go,” Yassen repeated, his voice now carrying a lethal edge that it lacked before. “Unless you dare to find out what happens when people cross me.”
There was a tense pause as the goon considered his options. Then, reluctantly, he released Alex with a rough shove. Alex stumbled but caught himself, shooting the man a glare. “Rude.” Alex muttered sarcastically, brushing himself off.
“Quiet,” Yassen snapped, his eyes flicking to the other two men who were watching the exchange. Yassen was relaxed, but Alex could see the subtle shift in his posture, as if he was readying himself for action. Like a spring ready to pounce.
His gaze locked on the two men, who had started debating among themselves, what to do. One of the men- the one in the T-shirt pulled out a gun. Alex’s stomach dropped.
“Enough of this,” The man growled. “We take both of them. Get a nice bonus from the boss.”
The tension snapped like a rubber band. The man moved his weapon, but Yassen moved first. In one fluid motion, he drew his weapon and fired. The deafening crack echoed through the alleyway. The leader staggered back, a look of shock frozen on his face before he doubled over and collapsed.
Alex took it as the cue to finally punch the man who once holding him captive. One black eye and a knee to the spleen later and Alex felt better
“You’re dead, Gregorovich!” one of the men yelled, drawing his own gun. Alex barely had time to react before Yaseen grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into a run.
“Move!” Yassen ordered, dragging Alex toward the far end of the alley as bullets ricocheted off the walls around them.
“What the hell is happening?!” Alex shouted, his heart pounding as they sprinted toward the street. They burst out into the main road, pushing past tourists who shot them confused, worried looks.
“Not now.” Yassen snapped, jerking his head to a parked car nearby, “Get in the car!”
“What car?” Alex asked but Yassen was already pulling the door open and shoving him into the passenger seat. Alex barely had time to shut the door before Yassen slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, peeling out onto the street with a screech of ties.
Alex twisted around in his seat, glancing back at the alley as it disappeared behind them. “You just shot a guy! They are going to to come after us!”
“No kidding,” Yassen muttered, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. “Do you have any other brilliant observations?”
“We need to get back to Tom and Kyra-”
“They’re safer without us,” Yassen said cutting him off.
Alex wasn’t convinced. “No way! I'm not leaving them behind- pull over!”
Back at the diner, Tom and Kyra were still seated at their booth; they were deep in a conversation about video games as they waited for their food to be prepared. When suddenly, Alex burst through the door, stumbling into the room looking shocked, with his hair wild and wind tossed and breathing heavily as if he had just run a mile.
“Alex?” Kyra said, glancing up at him with concern. It had been a long time since she saw the look of pure horror on his face.
Seconds later, Yassen walked in calmly behind him.
“Guys, we need to go,” Alex demanded, quickly grabbing his backpack from the seat and urging them to move.
“What—” Kyra started, but her words froze mid-sentence as she spotted Yassen. Her eyes widened. “Is that—”
“Long story,” Alex interrupted, cutting her off. “We’re in trouble. Big trouble.”
Tom blinked, looking between Alex and Yassen with a growing alarm. “Mate, you’ve got to be joking. Him? He’s—”
“I know,” Alex snapped. “I know exactly who he is. But right now, he’s coming with us. We don’t have a choice.”
Kyra‘s glance at Yassen hardened as she spoke threateningly, “If he so much as tries to hurt you—”.
“I won’t,” Yassen said simply, but sincerely. “But if you don’t leave now and they’ll find all of us, they won’t be merciful.”
That was enough to get Tom moving. He dug though his pockets, and pulled out a wad of cash. He threw it on to the table and grabbed his jacket. “All right, let’s go. But you’re explaining this in the car, Alex.”
“Trust me,” Alex said, already heading for the door. “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”
Alex’s rental car roared to life as Yassen turned the key. The sound of the engine shook with enough force to rattle its jumpy passengers. Alex folded his arms, glaring out the passenger-side window as the streets rolled passed them. He could feel Yassen’s presence beside him, almost suffocating. And yet, somehow his sudden arrival was exciting. It added back the mystery, adrenalin and danger that was missing from Alex's life. He felt alive for the first time in a long while. He risked a subtle glance over to Yassen, as he reached to turn on the car's air conditioning.
Yassen hadn’t changed in the past few years. Except for the presence of one or two more wrinkles on his brow, and a few gray hairs around his temples. The man was extremely focused on driving; gripping the steering wheel with a dangerous calmness that only made Alex's nerves itch more. There was a set in Yassen's jaw too. The same one he had given Alex the last time he had disipointed him.
From the back seat, Tom decided to break the silence. “Okay, someone better start talking. Why the bloody hell is he here, and why are we suddenly running for our lives?”
Kyra leaned forward, “Yeah, I think we’re owed an explanation, Alex. And it better be good.”
Alex sighed, rubbing his temple. He didn’t have the energy for this, but he knew there was no avoiding it. “I saw Yassen from across the road. I figured he was up to something nefarious and followed him."
“Followed him? Are you kidding me?”
“I didn’t know it was him at first, okay?" Alex tried to explain, "I thought I was being paranoid. Then I saw him in an alley, meeting with some very bad people, and—”
“You decided to stick your nose into it,” Yassen interrupted, his tone even, but there was a faint edge of irritation.
“Excuse me, I wasn’t the one conspiring with criminals in an alley,” Alex shot back.
“I wasn’t conspiring. I was handling a problem.”
Tom threw his hands up. “Oh, brilliant. Just a causal ‘problem’. Like that explains everything. We are so totally going to die-”
“Enough!” Kyra cut in, her voice firm. She leaned forward again, this time pointing at Yassen. “Why are they after you two?”
“I didn’t have enough time to work out their motive,” Yassen replied simply, “but, I assume they are competitors upset at my arrival.”
“Competitors?” Kyra asked. Despite Yassen trying to dodge the question, she pressed on. "For what?"
“Enemies of Scorpia, either copycat entities, or independent gangs or for hire mercenaries,” Yassen replied bluntly. Although there was hesitation in his voice like he was still holding something back. “Too organized not to be, and they seemed to know who we both were at a glance. They were going to kill him, and likely me too. So I handled it.”
“Handled it?” Tom’s voice cracked slightly. “You mean you shot someone?”
Yassen glanced at him in the rearview mirror, “Correct.”
A heavy silence fell over the car at the admission.
“You really shot someone!?” Tom repeated but there was no hiding his strained, and slightly panicked voice. After a second he sarcastically added, “This is definitely the best road trip ever, Alex!”
“And now what?” Kyra asked, her voice low and full of uncomfortable worry. “We just keep driving like nothing happened? They’re going to come after us, aren’t they? The bad guys? The police?”
“Yes,” Yassen answered bluntly. “But they'll be more likely to try to come for me first. That gives you time to think about what to do next.”
“Then we should split up,” Tom suggested, “you know, like they do in the movies. Divide and conquer.”
“Do you have experience evading professional hitmen?” Yassen responded by raising an eyebrow at Tom’s suggestion.
“No…” Tom said softly, defeat evident in his voice. He crossed his arms and slouched down in his seat.
“This is your fault, you know.” Alex accused, turning back to face Yassen.
Yassen’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, a fraction. The only sign that those words effected him. “I didn’t drag you into anything, Alex. You chose to follow me. Then you chose to get your friends involved too.”
Yassen glanced over at Alex, looking eye contact with him. There was a weight to those words. As if they were talking equally about the present as much as the past. The two men held the eye contact as if daring the other one to back down first. As if it would determine who was right and who was wrong.The car fell into a tense silence. The only sound was the tires humming over the highway, and the sound of cars passing by them.
From the back, Tom let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the tension. “So... this is going well.”
“Shut up, Tom,” Alex and Kyra said in unison.