Bad Boy Agents

Assistance

Cold and sore are two things that Shaka feels right in his head. The pain was also what then brought him to his senses after fainting a moment ago. His eyes blinked slowly, trying to adjust his neutrality to the bright light of the lamp that was just above his head.

In his mind still flashed the shadow of the incident when Gayatri jumped on his body and beat the members of the motorcycle genk with both legs were sturdy. After that everything was dark and nothing was seen anymore, nothing was heard anymore.

“AYA!” the new Shaka cried fully. He just woke up in a strange place with many stickers and animal posters around him.

“Be quiet, I have not finished sewing your wounds,” said a vibrating voice belonging to a man behind Shaka.

Shaka immediately turned his head and it turned out that there was a man sitting behind him with a wound sewing device in his hand. His eyes stared furiously at Shaka who could not keep quiet.

“Lay again.” The old man pulled Shaka's shoulder until the young man again lay on the patient's blankar.

“I where?” ask the confused Shaka. He looked around this place and many award charters hung on the wall in addition to a large cupboard containing medical devices.

“Don't beat, bottle blow won't make you amnesiac,” the man replied coldly while continuing to sew Shaka's wounds.

“I'm not amnesiac, it's just I don't know where I'm at.” Shaka is still trying to remember what happened to him.

“You are at the veterinary clinic, Gayatri who brought you here.” The man in his late sixties replied casually. He continued to sew Shaka's temple which was injured by a broken bottle that hit his head.

“In what way?” Shaka curious.

“Holding you,” replied the veterinarian, short.

“Benggengku? Aaakh..” Because the spirit turned to the man, as a result the thread stretched and made Shaka's wounds grieve.

“Wait a minute, this is the last knot, don't make me trouble.” The man held Shaka's forehead to stay in place, not constantly moving and making it difficult to stitch the wound.

Shaka was finally silent. He remembered that at the time no one else had passed by. The atmosphere in that place was also very quiet and dimly lit under the street lights that seemed to be about to go out soon.

“Already,” said the man while cutting the rest of the thread. “There are six stitches in two different wounds. Clean regularly and carefully when wearing shampoo. It might feel painful, but I'm sure a brat like you can hold it in,” the old man added as he moved from his place to wash his hands.

Shaka breathed a sigh of relief, he immediately got up to sit down. His head was holding because he was still dizzy. In his eyes was the man standing in front of the sink attentively. “Thank you, sorry to trouble.” Shaka said with great determination.

“Thank you for Gayatri. He took you here.” The man was still discussing Gayatri's name.

“He really carried me?” Shaka still can't believe it. Is it possible that the thin body was able to lift Shaka's body weight which was definitely much heavier than him. A faint shadow that flashed in his memory, he fell down on the asphalt before it was all dark.

Not too long later it was like someone was lifting his body, walking slowly to where Shaka clearly felt his weak body slightly shaking as if he was running. He also saw a faint light as his eyes slightly opened looking at the road between conscious and not. One thing is certain, he rested his dizzy head on a sturdy back and smelled the same perfume as when he met a girl in Rasya's tomb.

Shaka shook his head, it is impossible. “Where is he now?” Shaka moved out of place and moved to the sofa beside the window.

Not yet had the old man replied, heard first the sound of Shaka's motorbike approaching and stopped in front of the clinic. From the glass window, Shaka could see his motorbike was driven by someone who took off his helmet and showed his face.

Her long hair was unraveled, covering a part of her face that was familiar to Shaka, who else if not Gayatri. “He can ride big motor?” inner Shaka.

For a while it was like slowing down. Shaka saw the girl get off her bike and hugged the helmet in her right hand to take her in. His steps looked resolute with the look of his cold eyes again sharp. Shaka's lips gave a small smile on their own, his eyes as if unwillingly flickered seeing the figure approaching to the window. Look at the swing of his steadfast left hand, is he still the Gayatri he knows? Why so cool?

Ting!

The sound of the clinic bell rang out at the door, the sign of someone coming. Not long after, Gayatri's figure came in and showed her face at the door. His eyes rounded in shock at Shaka who was already sitting on the sofa.

“He's awake. Six stitches for each different wound. Pelipis six, temporal six,” said the doctor without asking.

Gayatri did not imitate, only nodding politely as a form of gratitude.

“I'm sleepy, if you want to go home, go home. Do not forget to close the door,” added the man who then went from the presence of Gayatri and Shaka.

Shaka and Gayatri were both silent, looking at each other for whatever reason. It was obvious that Gayatri breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the popular man looking fine.

“Come here,” Shaka patted the spot beside him, asking Gayatri to sit down.

The girl put Shaka's bodybag and helmet on the table, then pulled out a folding chair and sat down in front of Shaka.

“Thank you, have saved me,” said Shaka with full seriousness. Gayatri was just pensive, staring at Shaka for a while until she turned her face away from him. He should be the one to thank Shaka for coming at the right time.

Unfortunately, his lips still felt faint. Everything that happened an hour and a half ago was too shocking. Especially when he saw Shaka's bloody head. Finally he chose to look out the window and look at Shaka's motorbike parked on the edge of the road. He needed room to break his guilt.

Looking at the silent Gayatri, Shaka gave a small smile. He looked at the face of the girl who still looked tense. Just this time Shaka saw Gayatri tie her hair even though it was careless and messy. Sweat points are still visible on his face and forehead, but it is interesting for Shaka.

“Gue denger lo voice, Yes,” he said suddenly while smiling thinly. Gayatri turned to Shaka when it turned out that the man had heard his voice that came out without her guessing. It was all like a reflex when Shaka would be hit and when the man drooped weakly in his lap.

“Lo do not hesitate to say and I also will not make you talk. But I'm listening to your voice. Three times I heard the sound of lo,” Shaka showed three fingers of his right hand on Gayatri.

The girl's forehead crept. As he remembered, only twice he let out his voice.