Zero
Identity
By:T.T.R aka Blackthorne
Chapter 1: Pull the Trigger
"This is Blackthorne to Skimask! I've been made! I need an extraction. Now!" I yelled breathless into my transmitter.
"Copy that Blackthorne. Extraction in two minutes! Get out of there!" A familiar voice buzzed back. A gunshot rang behind me, but I kept running. I pulled my blond wig off and took a sharp right into a dark corridor filled with doors. An idea was forming in my mind. I threw the wig I was holding, on the floor. Working quickly, I unzipped my black leather jacket and went another two doors down from where the wig was and dropped it on the floor too. I walked up to the next door and opened it wide; wide enough to make it look as if somebody had opened it in a rush to escape. I heard the guards now. They were yelling in French.
"Great! Just great. They're planning to split up!" I mumbled to myself, my poor French vocabulary only enabling me to understand a few words. Instead of going through the door I opened, I kept going until I reached the last door in the corridor. The door was locked, but I knew it before I tried the knob. Grabbing a hairpin from the beginning of my braid, I stuck the end in and jiggled the knob furiously. I took a short glance down the hallway. There was a dark, looming shadow of the biggest security guard. I jiggled desperately as the shadow grew darker and wobbled faster. Finally, I heard a satisfying click. I made it into the dark, unknown room just as the guard turned the corner. My breath slowed down and nearly stopped while I watched the guard from the little glass window on the door. He saw my wig first, then my jacket. The guard took a moment to study the scene then straightened up while he positioned his gun more securely. He peered into the wide open door and finally stepped in. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned around, only to freeze the next second. Someone was in the room. As quietly as I could I shifted against the wall, trying to find a light switch, but the "Someone" beat me to it. The lights flashed open, nearly making me blind. I heard the swift sound of a gun cock behind me. Slowly, I turned around. There, standing by the light switch was a man in mid forties. He had a grubby face and cold eyes. His expression was filled with what seemed like years of hatred. He held a gun in a hand covered with rings, double on some. I knew that there was no chance of me getting by without my head being shot into a million pieces. There was a low growl from the back of his throat.
"Who are you?" His voice was coarse but as cold as ice. I swallowed. He took a step forward and pointed the gun directly toward my head.
"I'll ask you again one more time. Who are you and who do you work for!?" He said yelling furiously. I winced. I was breathless, but I finally spoke.
"You know," I said quietly
"Your voice is so much worse than your looks!" And that was the last thing I said before he pulled the trigger.
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