March 2023 - Side Story (Patreon)

Hey guys, sorry for the delay, but here's the side story for the month of March, which is what if Ash was the one who met with Yvette first. It's written from Ash's POV.

Next, I'll be working on the spicy side story featuring Skylar and MC 😉 And then after that, this month's side story, which is the third part of Dead Man Walking series.

* * * * *

A familiar chime. From far away. Something rings. It’s faint at first but gets louder and louder until--

Your eyes open wide as your body jolts out of sleep. You fling the blanket off your body in haste and spring to your feet. Your heart is racing, and your eyes glance around the corners of your bedroom, trying to find the threat… What threat again?

Forcing your body to relax, you sigh. Oh, right, you were asleep when something woke you up. The doorbell rings again, and your body involuntarily tenses up. Who the hell is visiting? You and Sasha never get a lot of guests other than Uncle Luka or Rin.

You grab a discarded t-shirt and put it on before quickly striding out of your room and towards the front door.  Instead of opening the door immediately, you decide to take a peek out of the peephole. You know there are layers of security in this apartment building; most of the staff here are members of the Morozov Family or their relatives. But still, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious--most of the time that is.

Leaning against the thick wooden door, you close one eye and look out. Oh, it’s the cleaning lady, Mrs. Popova. You’re pretty sure her husband is one of the soldiers under you. You open the door and greet her, “Oh, hi, Mrs. Popova. Please, come in.”

“Ah, good morning,” she greets back as she walks in, looking around the penthouse..

You close and lock the door behind you as you make your way over to the kitchen. You need your morning drink. “I didn’t expect you to come today,” you say as you rummage through the cupboard to grab a mug. “I thought you came to clean yesterday morning.”

“Oh, uh, I won’t be able to come to my next shift,” she stutters a bit. Huh, what is she so worried about? You and Sasha have never made a fuss if she missed one of her cleaning days. “So, I think I should make it up today. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you reply, inserting a black coffee pod into the brewing machine. “Go ahead and start.”

“Alright,” she says, setting down her bag on the kitchen counter.

As the coffee brews, you decide to check your phone. Pulling it out of your pocket, you unlock it and see that Sasha messaged you around an hour ago saying they’re going for a jog and will be back with breakfast. You smile as you send a quick reply.

Your attention is brought away from your phone as Mrs. Popova asks, “Is Master Sasha around?”

You send her a quizzical glance before replying simply, “No.”

It might be your imagination but she looks disappointed for a second, but she smiles quickly. “Well, I’ll start with their room first, then. Before they get back.” She quickly saunters toward the hallway where your and Sasha’s rooms are located.

You frown as you stare at her retreating back. That’s kind of a weird interaction if you gotta be honest. But maybe she just has a lot on her mind. The beeping of the machine makes you turn. Grabbing the cup, you sip contentedly, already feeling yourself waking up even more.

For the next few minutes, you drink your coffee while browsing the Internet. As your mind clears up, you think about asking Mrs. Popova what’s wrong. After all, she has always been kind and caring to you and Sasha. Never complains if she’s suddenly called in outside of the shift. If you can help her in some way, you’re sure Sasha would approve.

Standing up, you set the dirty, empty mug in the sink before striding over to Sasha’s room. Without knocking, you push the door open gently and stop in your tracks immediately. The woman before you is certainly not Mrs. Popova.

She stands in front of Sasha’s dresser, gazing at the framed photos there. You know by heart what the photos are: The picture of you, Sasha, Uncle Viktor, and Rin during one Halloween, a graduation photo of Sasha, and a prom photo of the two of you.

She has familiar features; the same skin complexion and hair texture as Sasha’s, and you know exactly who she is even if you haven’t met her face-to-face before. You watch as she reaches out and grabs the Halloween picture, trailing her fingers delicately over Viktor carrying little Sasha in his arms, a sad and wistful smile on her face.

And you don’t know why, but that’s the thing that makes you finally snap out of your stupor.

“Hey! Get your hands off that!” you bark out, stomping your way toward her.

She squeaks out in surprise and sets the photo down quickly, having been caught red-handed. “Wa—Wait…”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you snarl. “You’re not welcome here, especially in their room. Get the fuck out.”

She looks like she’s about to cry and for a moment, you feel bad. Wait, stop, no. She’s playing her tricks on you. This bitch.

“I said now,” you assert. “Don’t bother trying that again. It won’t work on me.”

She sighs before trudging out with you following behind her, shutting Sasha’s door behind you. She walks over to her bag, which now you see is not a bag full of cleaning stuff, but a high-end handbag.

“Please…” she says. “I need to meet Sasha.”

The gall to say that after twenty years of no contact. It makes your blood boil. “You have no right,” you growl. “You’ve never shown any interest or made any attempt to meet them. Why now?”

“I… I have to talk to them,” she answers meekly, fiddling with the straps of her bag.

“About what?” you push. There must be something.

“About recent events, y’know,” she chuckles nervously. “Just catching up with what’s been going on.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Catching up on what you’ve been doing for the last two decades?” you can’t help but scoff out a bitter laugh at the absurdity.

“Well, you gotta start somewhere, right?”

That’s gotta be a joke. There’s no way she is approaching this so casually. You still remember vividly the moment Sasha told you about what happened in the comic book store that day, their teary face as they said that they didn’t understand why their mom was ashamed of them and embarrassed them and their dad in front of the audience. How you spend the next few days consoling them, not only for that but also for their father's death.

You don’t think Sasha ever fully recovers and you’re pretty sure a part of them died too that day.

You really shouldn’t entertain whatever she’s going to say, but also, you’re morbidly curious. Why now after all the pain? “Tell me the truth now. Or I’ll kick you out.”

She deflates. “Okay, okay. It’s gotta do with the series of murders happening, alright?”

Oh, of course. How can you forget that she is the next target? And now she’s here to ask for Sasha’s help presumably. “And you’re here to ask for their help…” you growl, crossing your arms.

“Yeah…” she answers, fidgeting.

That night on Sasha’s birthday, when the Nemesis Project revealed themselves and their next step, you can see the rage but also sadness and even worry in Sasha’s eyes. You know that if she talked to them and begged for their help, they wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Oh, hell no,” you snap at her. “So, now you come to Sasha because your life is in danger? After abandoning and causing so much pain to them for years.”

She flinches. “Wait, no, no. Not only that. I’d like to reconnect too! I know it’s a bad time—”

“Bullshit!” you cut her off. “If you had even the slightest desire to reconnect, then you would have at least tried. You had ten years to do that. And yet, you only come now when you’re being targeted by a terrorist group and ask your child to risk their life to help you.”

“No!” she yelps out. “No, I don't want them to actually get involved in finding the killer! I just need them to become a liaison, connecting the Agency’s and ECPD’s investigation team with the Morozov. Maybe try convincing Luka to lend some of the Morozov's resources to help with the investigation. That’s all. I don’t want them to get in danger. I swear!”

“It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head before stepping forward. “They would still want to get involved. And it’s too dangerous. I won’t have you jeopardizing Sasha’s safety, especially for your own good.” Grabbing her wrist, you begin dragging her toward the front door. “It’s time for you to go.”

She fights back, trying to pry your hand off and standing her ground. “No! You have no right to stop me from meeting my own kid! And I’ll talk to them about not getting involved, alright? Now, let me go!”

“You cannot talk them out of it,” you hiss. “Because the person hunting you is the same person who killed Uncle Viktor ten years ago.”

She stops her struggle. “How do you know?” she asks, bewildered.

You turn to her in irritation. “Sasha and Uncle Luka both said so when the hijacked broadcast happened. They recognized the voice distorter.”

Her eyes widen. “T—That means Sasha was—”

“You didn’t know, did you?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Sasha was there in the alley when the attack happened. Uncle Luka teleported them away at the last minute before…” you trail off before shaking your head.

“I didn’t know. I thought Viktor was alone…” Her light brown eyes water as she brings her free hand to her mouth.

“Well, congratulations, now you know,” you sneer down at her before continuing to pull her towards the door. “Sasha is hellbent on having their vengeance, and you’ll just give them an opening to act recklessly. I can’t have that.”

“I still need to speak to them. I promise I won’t ask for help anymore. But I still have so many things to talk about with Sasha,” she whines, standing her ground again.

“You had ten years. You don’t deserve another chance. I’ll literally lift you out of here if I have to. Now, leave with some dignity at least,” you snap at her.

“Please, I just want to see them and make sure they’re okay,” she pleads.

“They’ve been doing just fine without you. You weren’t there during their darkest time, so they certainly don’t need you now,” you spit out bitterly.

“I know but—” she replies again but is stopped when the front door unlocks. The two of you freeze as you hear Sasha call out for you.

“Hey, Ash! Are you awake already? I bring some breakfast. I hope you’re feeling like eating some—” Sasha stops in their tracks, hand lifting the brown paper bag. Their eyes immediately snap to their mother and their smile falls.

“Sasha…” Yvette mutters, snatching her hand from your slack hold and sauntering closer to them. Sasha steps back out of her reach.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha asks quietly, voice hoarse.

“I want to see you,” she answers. “Are you okay, baby?”

Sasha scrunches their eyes closed and shakes their head. “Don’t lie. And don’t call me that.”

“Sorry Sasha, I’ve been trying to get her out. Let me do that now,” you say, grabbing her wrist again.

“Sasha, please…” she whimpers.

Sasha takes a deep breath before sighing, “Fine, alright. We’ll talk. You have a lot to answer anyway.” Their expression hardens and Yvette withers under their gaze.

“Are you sure? You don’t owe her anything, you know that, right?” you ask them, still ready to kick her out.

Without looking at you, they answer, “Yes, Ash. Do you mind giving us some privacy?”

“Sure…” you say reluctantly, still worried about Sasha. “I’ll wait outside.”

Letting go of her wrist, you walk over to the door, passing by Sasha, who hands you the brown bag containing your breakfast. You mutter a quiet thanks before walking out of the door and closing it gently behind you.

You storm down the hallway towards the elevator area where the twins, Boris and Ivan are standing guard. Ivan fidgets uncomfortably as you get closer, perhaps already sensing something is wrong. Ivan, on the other hand, still stays as carefree as ever.

“Oh, hey, Ash. That’s a deep frown. If you don’t turn it around soon, it’ll get stuck you know? And you’ll end up like my brother here,” Boris jokes, pointing at his twin brother beside him.

Ivan ignores him. “Has something happened?” he asks, a hint of anxiousness leaking into his voice.

“Oh, you two are so fucked,” you chuckle mirthlessly. “Now, which one of you’ve got the balls to call and report to Uncle Luka, or should I do it instead, hm?”