Disclaimer: I don't own the character Dave Batista. WWE does.
Chapter Two -- An Old Friend...
"Wha...what? Who Is this...?" Dave managed to choke out.
"Meet me downstairs...now."
Dave heard a click and the line went dead. He stood there holding the phone to his ear, shocked and at a loss for words. Could it be? No it couldn't...
Dave quickly rushed to the front door, wincing in pain as the bits of glass that was now embedded underneath his foot continued to slice at the skin. Kicking more beer bottles out of his way, he stumbled over to grab his leather coat, reeking of alcohol from his endless trips to the local bar just a block away from his apartment and made his way out the door, not bothering to put his shoes on. He wobbled towards the elevator at the end of the corridor when the door of his neighbor opened slightly, causing him to stop in his tracks.
"Is everything alright Dave? I thought I heard glass breaking".
A frail & gentle woman, well into her 70's, slowly stepped outside into the poorly lit corridor, accompanied by her small Labrador retriever who huddled near her legs. She looked up at the larger man, concern playing across her face.
"Everything's fine Mrs. Beckman. I just accidentally broke something. Its fine."
Dave kept his head down, anxious to quickly calm Mrs. Beckman's worries so he could continue his trip downstairs. "Well ok I just thoug... Dave dear, have you been drinking?" Mrs. Beckman asked, surprise in her soft voice.
Dave coughed dryly. "Um yeah, just a little."
"Well from the scent that you're giving off, I'd say it's a bit more than just 'A Little'."
Dave started to twiddle his thumbs, uncomfortable with the way Mrs. Beckman was now hounding him. She had known that something was bothering Dave for some time now. He avoided talking to her about it, and she respected his privacy. Mrs. Beckman was happy to have a man like Dave living next door to her. She lived alone with her dog, Cheddar ever since her husband was hospitalized 3 years ago. She felt safe knowing that a strong, caring FBI Agent was just a holler away if she needed anything. He's also helped her occasionally around her home with repairs and some light shopping. She didn't want to alienate him in anyway so she didn't pursue her suspicions.
"I um...I just..." Dave mumbled.
"It's ok. I won't pester you any further. Just make sure you stay safe ok dear?" Mrs. Beckman smiled up brightly at him.
"OK. I'll see you later".
Dave quickly weaved his way between Mrs. Beckman and Cheddar, who was now roaming the hallway excitedly.
Mrs. Beckman called for her Cheddar so they could go back inside; the corridor was far too cold for her liking. As Cheddar ran inside she began to follow suit when she noticed Dave wasn't wearing any shoes. She'd also noticed that the carpet near her was now stained with bits of blood.
"Oh dear", Mrs. Beckman said quietly to herself, covering her mouth with her hand. And with that she made her way inside and closed the door.
Dave reached the elevator and quickly pressed the service button. He stood there waiting for the lift to reach his floor. Anxiety was building up so much that he nearly darted towards the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. The pain in his feet caused him to rethink that idea. The metal doors finally opened and he swiftly stepped inside the mobile room and pressed the ground floor button a few times. The doors closed and he began to make his decent.
"Dammit hurry up!" He yelled. He looked up at the ceiling, blinding himself with the bright lights that hung above, still in an intoxicated state.
'It can't be him...It just can't', He thought to himself. His heart rate had increased and adrenaline surged throughout his body. His mind alert and active, partly because of the sharp pain he continued to feel from his bare feet. A few seconds later, which to Dave felt like hours, the elevator halted and the doors opened. He didn't wait for them to open completely and attempted to squeeze his way through the small opening, standing now in the nearly abandoned lobby. He quickly looked around franticly, but could not find the body that belonged to the voice on the phone.
'He must be outside!' He said to himself.
Dave, now ignoring his physical anguish, raced towards the front entrance and parted the doors open. He was quickly paralyzed by the frigidness of the air that met his body. Los Angeles had been unseasonable cold this week. He regained himself and spotted a silhouette of a man to his right. Beams of light from oncoming cars disoriented his vision. The man stood there, smoking what appeared to be a cigarette, checking his watch and surveilled the traffic. Dave slowly advanced towards the man, careful in his approach, as if to avoid shattering what could possibly be a hallucination. As he neared the smaller man, still blinded by the lights shining in his eyes, the man spoke.
"Good to see you again Dave..."