2 Patching Up Tory

Upon seeing the gun in Vector's hand, the cops got legitimate clearance to open fire at the stolen truck. And that's what they did. Vector's stunt had bought them some time but it was now without its backlash.

Fernando Torres, critically injured and fighting against the pain, sat slumped in the backseat of the stolen truck.

Blood stained his clothes, and his face bore a pale, strained expression. His friend, Viktor, frantically searched for a solution, his panic evident.

"Shit Tori, what do we do? We need to get you to a hospital now!" Viktor's voice trembled with worry as he pleaded with his injured friend.

Tory, his voice strained but resolute, interrupted before Viktor could finish. "Viktor, we can't risk going to any hospital or infirmary in our current situation. Maybe we should..."

Viktor's desperation grew as he cut off Tory's words, unable to fathom the alternative. "Are you fucking crazy, Tori? Do you want to die because of this botched-up job? We can't ignore this!"

Viktor's eyes darted around the truck's cabin, searching for anything that could help staunch the bleeding and save his friend's life. The situation was dire, and time was slipping away.

"We can't go to the ER, you say? Then what's your plan? We need to act fast before it's too late!" Vik's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and determination.

Looking out the window, Vik took a moment to collect his thoughts, recalling the events that had unfolded. His mind raced as he tried to come up with a solution, anything that would keep Tory alive.

"Listen to me, Tory. They don't have solid evidence against us, just circumstantial stuff maybe. We can lay low, cooperate, and be back on our feet in no time. It's far better than dying, I'd say," Vik said, clutching at straws for a glimmer of hope.

Tory, surprisingly composed despite his critical condition, dismissed Vik's concerns. "Hijo de puta, Vik. Who said anything about dying? What do you think I am, a wuss? We should head to my aunt's place. She used to be a nurse. She'll fix me up. Now, give me that first-aid box from the back."

Though wounded, Tory's resilience shone through. The bullet had been deflected by the all-purpose Kevlar he wore, mitigating the damage. However, the wound was near his heart, and the blood loss needed immediate attention. They had to act swiftly.

Without further hesitation, Vik retrieved the first-aid kit from the back of the truck. Within its contents, they found an ionizing light for disinfection, a syringe of stabilizing medicine, and an insta-synth skin generator to seal the wound temporarily. With steady hands and a sense of urgency, they tended to Tory's injuries, stabilizing his condition for the time being.

Tory, now stable but in need of proper medical care, urged Vik to take the wheel. The crisis was far from over, and they couldn't afford to rest on their laurels. The police would soon realize their escape and send aerial patrols after them. Vik, knowing the odds were against them in a high-speed chase, decided to take a safer route, diverting from the expressway to a secluded service road. They needed to lay low, hide the truck, and find a way to disappear completely.

Driving along the desolate road, they made sure to disable any tracking devices in the truck, ensuring they left no breadcrumbs for their pursuers. Tory's aunt's place was merely a temporary refuge, a pit stop before they went off the grid entirely.

After a tense drive, they arrived at Aunt Avril's house. She welcomed them warmly, though her face turned pale at the sight of Tory's condition. Concern etched across her features, she led them inside, her experienced eyes assessing the severity of her nephew's injuries.

The words caught in her throat as she saw the extent of Tory's injuries. His blood-soaked shirt and weary countenance left her momentarily speechless. Gathering herself, she let out an exclamation of shock.

"Aaaah! Dios Mio... Nino... what's happened to you?"

Tory assured her, his voice filled with a mix of pain and determination. "Aunt Avril, I'll explain everything later, but right now, you need to treat me. Please."

Vik, realizing Aunt Avril's initial shock, interjected with urgency. "Please, Aunt Avril, we don't have much time. Tory needs your help. We'll explain everything once he's stable."

Aunt Avril, a woman who had seen her fair share of troubles, quickly composed herself. Slapping away her own worries, she nodded, her resolve firm.

"You... you'd never stop being a troublesome nephew, would you, Fernando Torres? Who am I asking? Forget it. Let's take him to another room, Vik. I have a nursing bed there."

With Tory supported between them, they made their way to the designated room. Aunt Avril prepared herself mentally for the task ahead, realizing the gravity of the situation. Though she no longer had a license to practice medicine legally, her skills were honed through years of experience. She knew she had to do whatever it took to save her nephew.

The room was transformed into an improvised clinic, equipped with the necessary tools and supplies. Aunt Avril meticulously attended to Tory's wounds, carefully removing any remnants of the bullet and treating the injury with a mix of traditional methods and her own expertise. The process was meticulous and arduous, but she worked diligently, her focus unyielding.

Meanwhile, Vik and Tory discussed their next move.

With Tory all fixed up and ready to go, the two criminals on the run bid adieu to Aunt Avril, not wanting to bother her with any more of their problems.

Vik took the wheel once again as they resumed their journey, the weight of their predicament heavy on their shoulders.

"What should we do now, Vik? We can't return to Ainazi, and we're heading in the opposite direction of our drop site. Do we risk going there, or should we go into hiding?" Tory asked, his voice weary but determined.

Vik, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, contemplated their options. He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke before responding.

"Well, turning back is out of the question. This whole situation feels like a setup. It's as if they were waiting for us to make our move. And that baldy... I can't shake off the feeling that he's involved."

Vik's mind raced as he considered their next move. "First, we need to find a secluded and abandoned house away from prying eyes. We need a safe haven to regroup and gather our thoughts. Somewhere we can hide until we figure out what's really going on."

Tory scoffed at Vik's words, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Hahahaha! Vik, things aren't as simple as you make them out to be. How do we find such a convenient place in the midst of all this chaos?"

Vik's eyes widened as he exclaimed with newfound hope, interrupting Tory mid-sentence. "There it is!"

Tory cursed Vik's luck for being so bipolar in nature. Any job he'd have with Vik would see a number of unexpected problems. However, Vik's luck was such that they would find solutions to their problems just as easily.

As the truck rounded a bend, a dilapidated house stood in isolation, hidden among overgrown foliage. Its worn-out appearance spoke of years of neglect, making it the perfect place to lay low.

Their temporary sanctuary had been found, but their journey was far from over.