I removed my hand from the wound on my stomach. Fuck! I was still bleeding out all over the place. I'm not sure what I was expecting. I knew I wasn't going to make it, but I didn't want to be a ghost. I just wanted to go straight to hell. That ghost stuff seemed pointless.
I'm on the ground again. Didn't even realize it. Must've passed out. The snow was a tricky bitch, but she was on my side tonight. On your feet you son of a bitch. On your feet. You've got things to do. Follow the tracks. It'll all be over soon. I'll allow it to be over soon.
TEN MINUTES EARLIER:
A shot rang out as I approached the briefcase. I knew it was a trick, but in the trap I stood a chance. If I'd refused they'd have shot me on the spot. I ran by the briefcase picking it up as I flew toward the shed behind it, then straight out the back. I caught the man at the back door off guard, and planted my knife right in his neck. He expected me to be slower and more careful. Didn't even have time to scream. Poor bastard. Rank amateur. Must've lost my fedora outside when I bent down to get the briefcase too. I'll get it in a minute.
How many were left? I knew he wasn't the only one. Another shot, this one hitting me in the side. I knew the general direction. I fired three suppressing rounds in their direction. Didn't want them getting out of cover just yet. I felt a rope around my neck and I was lifted off the ground. This was a big guy. Felt my vision blur and knew I was going to be passing out. I fired a shot under my left arm and felt the grip loosen. It was enough to turn and put one right between the eyes. I staggered and fell on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I knew a few seconds was all I had. Back to my feet.
Another one came through the front door. Bang! Shotgun blast to the back. I stumbled forward and fell on my face again. My kidney was fucked, probably a couple of ribs. I knew how to play opossum though. They fall for it every time. I held my breath and didn't make a sound for a full thirty seconds. He walked over and hit me in the back of the head with the butt of the stock. I still didn't move. He reached down and grabbed me by my trench coat, and turned me over. Put three in the motherfucker's heart. Good night.
I waited a few minutes to see if anyone yelled to check in. They always check in if you're in too long. They assume the shots are their buddy finishing a guy off. Part of them wonders though, but they always check.
I didn't hear anything, so I was confident. I pick up the briefcase and walk out the door, carefully looking around as I check the area. Then bam, guy jumps off the roof right on top of me. Was he up there the whole time? Wrapped his left arm around my throat, used the back of his knife to knock my gun out of my hand as I tried to bring it up, then took the knife and put several clean shots into my gut. This was a professional. He wasn't risking a vest. Good call on his part.
I hit the ground like a ton of bricks, and watched the guy pick up the briefcase and walk right out the front door. He picked up my hat and put it on. Son of a bitch. Knew how to rub salt in a guy's wound. I'd have done the exact same thing in his shoes. I start to get up and he turns around, putting three in my chest. I couldn't breathe. Don't know if he knew for sure if I had a vest on. I passed out right after he hit me, so I'm sure I looked dead.
I came to in a couple of minutes. Or I died and this was some weird snowy hell. Didn't matter. I struggled to my feet and made my way through the brush and back toward the highway. I felt pretty good, all things considered, but it was going downhill fast. Follow the tracks. Follow the tracks. I'm down again.
PRESENT:
I struggle back to my feet, bleeding out all over the sidewalk. I just had to follow the tracks. The world wasn't clear anymore, but it didn't really need to be. I could still make out the tracks.
That didn't take long. Spotted them going into a phone booth just ahead. There he was, still talking. Even professionals let their guard down. I walked up behind him. Bang! I look down and see his smoking pistol facing back at me under his left armpit. Clever fucker, he saw me in the glass. I throw my gun up, putting two in his leg and one in his shoulder. Didn't bother with the body, I knew he had a vest. He turned around and fired one in to my shoulder. Click. Click.
He was out and reaching for a spare mag. I put two more in his abdomen. Click click. He gets in the magazine and pulls back his slide, putting one in the chamber. Next one goes in my head.
I fall back on the ground, still as the snowy night. He falls back into the booth, dropping beside the briefcase on the ground. I looked forward to meeting this guy in hell. Seemed like a nice guy.
Not bad, a nice little read.
Thanks. I speed wrote this one in about 20 minutes.
Nice. Although I'm confused about the shot in the stomach and bleeding if he's wearing a vest.
Knife wound. Though in hindsight I shouldn't have used the word "shots" to describe the knife strikes with all the gunshots flying around.