Dedicated to the wonderful Benedict Cumberbatch who's amazing talent and take on John Harrison/Khan has inspired me to write this story.
Consumed
One: Darkness Awakening
"All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. And that's the tragedy of living." — Iain Thomas.
The air was unnaturally still beside the quiet pitter-patter of the rain. Air hung with heavy tension and anticipation as young woman sat crouched on a low-level balcony, cool droplets of rain running down her exposed skin. Her calfs ached uncomfortably from crouching in the same position for almost two hours, but she stayed still, her gaze focused on the only entrance down the alleyway. Suddenly there was a shift in the air, few muffled grunts accompanied by heavy footsteps before a shaky, large figure stumbled into her sight of vision. A small, almost triumphant smirk stretched across her lips, and she wasted no time jumping on her feet and leaping off the balcony. Her legs, bruised and tired, protested under pressure, but she ignored it, her hand instinctually locking on her gun.
The large shadow immediately shifted noticing her presence and struck out, the young woman dodging his powerful blow sloppily. They were both tired, but she had an advantage, she had finally managed to trick him and now he was trapped. The woman retaliated, kicking viciously into left knee of the shadowed figure, causing him slump down almost instantly, his large hand locking around her neck and pulling her down with him.
She grimaced inwardly knowing that she had about three seconds before he managed to lock his hand around her neck in a way that would make it all too easy for him to choke her to death. She clenched her left hand around the sharp edge of her knife that was safely took away in her boot and drove the gleaming metal into creatures meaty hand. They hit the ground with a loud thud, a dull streetlight finally showing her targets features. His face was twisted with barely concealed pain, his hand bleeding heavily from the knife that was still stuck deep into his flesh. His pale blue skin shone from the rain and sweat on his skin, and the woman above him unmercifully dug her knee into his injured leg, making sure to add extra pressure on the knife wound she gave him last night.
She let out a ragged breath, making sure that the creature beneath her could not get up, her gun pressed painfully against the skin of his cheek. He was a half-breed, she concluded after a moment of pondering, his features far too human to be anything but.
"So it would seem you finally got me, girlie," he snarled lowly, his expression dark.
"This ends today," she responded calmly, her voice hoarse from the lack of use. "Your bloodlust has turned you into a deranged psychopath. This is your punishment for the crimes you have committed."
The creature snorted, his dark eyes finally meeting her own grey ones. His features seem to soften somewhat and the frenzied madness was momentarily gone from his gaze.
"At least I won't have to kill anymore, right?"
The woman gave no answer and pulled the trigger without a moment of hesitation.
She made it back to the warehouse she lived in couple minutes before dawn, her body aching from intense week of hunting and completing assignment after assignment. She was soaked to bone and in desperate need of some proper food and a warm shower. However, much to her surprise the moment she step inside her dully lit home she noticed that her Operator Mickey was nowhere to be seen, his usual seat in front of multiple computers and holoform screens empty. Raising a curious eyebrow, she peeled off her wet jacket, cringing at the feeing of damp fabric rubbing against her skin. She briefly glanced at one of the active news-feeds and seeing nothing of interest sluggishly moved towards the medical table where Mickey kept all of his equipment and medicine, trying to ignore a slight limp in her left leg. Perhaps there was a reason why there were so few humans in their Organisation and line of business.
"Sparrow, thank lord you're finally here!"
She scowled at her given nickname that has caused her nothing but grief since the day she gotten in it. Only she could be named after a tiny bird that existed back in 21st Century Earth due to her rather small stature. Most, however, argued that unlike others she didn't choose herself a name and they had to call her something. But that wasn't true since she did have a name. Or had. A long, long time ago, she had a proper name, a name she never used anymore because she saw no reason to. She was just a tool for murder after all, and tools didn't need names.
She turned to see Mickey rushing towards her down the creaky metal stairs, his freckled face and flaming red hair a welcome sight despite her trying to convince herself otherwise.
Mickey had become her Operator three years ago and two have fallen into an odd sort of friendship that consisted of him constantly worrying about her, and her deflecting his concern. After all, she was raised to do what she did; few broken bones and bruises meant nothing.
"What the hell happened to you?" he instantly barked once he was close enough to see her drowned appearance and dark bruises on her arms as well as her split lip.
"I'm fine," she bit out roughly, irritated by his relentless worrying.
"The usual then?" he asked evenly, not even slightly bothered by her rude tone.
"Yeah."
She didn't go into detail because they were honestly far too brutal for someone as kind-hearted as Mickey. Her Operator quickly ushered her to sit on the medical counter, fixing his glasses before he started his never-ending scans and medicine shots. Her opponent was large this time as well as strong and even with her years of brutal training she couldn't quite match up to his raw strength, one of the main reasons she used her speed and thankfully quick mind to trick him and corner him the way she did.
"So why were you in such a rush when I came back?" she wondered, not even flinching when Mickey dabbed alcohol soaked cotton ball on one of her cuts.
"Ludovic came over when you were gone, apparently he has another assignment for you," he spoke, "This one is top secret though and must be dealt with as soon as possible."
"He can go to hell," she groused harshly under her breath, accepting a dry towel that Mickey offered her. "I've been doing assignments nonstop for the last two months."
Mickey nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose, "That's what I told him as well and as your doctor I strongly advised against it, but…"
"But he doesn't care, do you, Ludovic?" she asked mockingly, turning to look at the doorway where a short, bald man stood. She never did like him; there was something slippery about him that rubbed her the wrong way. It was a powerful gut instinct she couldn't quite quell even after all these years of knowing him.
"Ah, Sparrow, glad to see you are well," he greeted, his tone amused.
She sneered at the man, watching him warily while Mickey gave her a shot of painkillers that made her glare at him.
"What the hell do you want from me now, Ludovic?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. I have another one for you." he remarked, pulling an all too familiar sandy coloured envelope with red seal on it, their Organisation's seal.
"Not interested. I've been hunting for three days straight, I need to rest," she retorted, noticing Mickey's fleeting grin of amusement.
Ludovic titled his head to one side. "Sorry, little bird, but you can't refuse this one. Orders are coming from very high up," he told her, tossing her the envelope. Much to her surprise she managed to catch it, holding the astoundingly thin envelope between her partially numb fingers.
She swatted at Mickey who was doing a full body scan, mumbling angrily under his breath while she ripped the top of the envelope and pulled out the only sheet of paper inside. Her eyes quickly ran over the brief message and her lips parted in shock.
"Starfleet? Since when are they after our services? Aren't they a little too humanitarian for that?" she spoke in confusion, raising her head to look at Ludovic who was smiling smugly at her, his hands in his jacket pockets.
"They didn't give us much information about the nature of the assignment, except that they wanted the best on this job. According to our sources they may have a rogue on loose," Ludovic explained casually.
She raised an eyebrow. "The best? Then why not send the Twins, surely they would be more fitting for this job if it's someone so high profile they want to take out."
She tossed the letter on the table beside her, watching the bald man before her with poorly concealed suspicion. Mickey was fidgeting uneasily from beside her, casting lingering glances at the letter. Probably because his two older sisters were members of Starfleet, one of them was still in the Academy while the other one was a medic aboard USS Silverline. No wonder he felt uncomfortable. If she took this assignment that would mean that there was a highly trained assassin within reachable distance of his only family. Not that she would hurt his sisters intentionally but there was always a possibility of a crossfire or even a hostage situation – it wouldn't be the first time it had happened and unfortunately the hostages in question always ended up dead.
"Number 1 and 2 are on a different side of the galaxy hunting down a group of weapon dealers," he said almost boringly. "And since our Number 1 and 2 are otherwise occupied, that leaves you. Or did you forget you position, Sparrow?"
She scowled at the man, her lips pursed. "I don't need reminding."
Ludovic clapped his hands eagerly, sending another smirk her way.
"Splendid. Your meeting with Admiral Marcus is tomorrow at noon in Starfleet HQ. I suggest you clean yourself before that, dear, you look like a mess."
Then with another smirk he was off, sauntering out of the warehouse without a backwards glance.
Sparrow gritted her teeth, her jaw flexing, and lowering her guard only when bald man was completely gone from her line of vision.
"That can't be right…"
She turned towards Mickey who was furiously typing on one of his computers, data running across the screen. There was an odd note of disbelief in his voice that made her hop off the bench she was sitting on and see what got him so distressed.
"What is it?"
"Well…w-we always have to submit our weekly reports and I was sure that according to J's report the twins just finished their last mission…"
She raised her index finger trailing it down her bottom lip, her lips quirking up once she looked over the typed report of Number 1 and 2's Operator.
"Twins finished their mission two days ago. So there is no way they could be hunting someone on other side of the galaxy right now. Ludovic lied."
Sparrow ran her tongue over the scab on her lips and hummed quietly.
Hm, how curious.
Best part about being an assassin for hire – or as their superiors so fondly called them – bounty hunters, was that no one bothered you needlessly. Mickey often told her that there was something about people working in the Organisation that was different from others, bloodcurdling. Non of them went ballistic and started killing people in public of course, but apparently all 37 of them held themselves differently from normal people. She scoffed inwardly, realising that it was probably due to harsh training they all went through for years, and something like that tends to change a person, break them in more ways than one. Woman or man, it made no differences since everyone had to go through same ruthless coaching because only the best made their ranks. Considering the brutality of their training, it was now obvious why there were only two other humans beside her amongst their ranks. Humans weren't a fastest, smartest or even the strongest species and compared to some other hunters working for the Organisation and their unparalleled skills, humans were more like vermin in comparison.
"Close your eyes, little one. Don't open them no matter what."
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
"Come little hunter. Taste."
She jerked from the memory almost viciously, her fist clenching around her gun in alarm. She glanced up to see a terrified blonde in front of her, holding a clipboard in her shaking hands.
"A-Admiral will see you now."
She gave a sniff nod, and the blonde ran off, causing Sparrow to grimace realising that she unintentionally freaked out another person. Heaving a tired sigh, she flinched when her muscles flexed and she was once against reminded about her tiredness as well as her lack of proper rest. She managed a whole total of four hours before she awoke in cold sweat, shaking like a leaf from her nightmares. Deciding not to waste any time she set out to San Francisco, leaving a brief note to Mickey in case he freaked out upon waking up and not finding her again. When she got to Starfleet HQ, she had to wait a whole hour for this 'Admiral' to make himself free before she was allowed to see him. So many rules and routines, how tedious.
She entered the room slowly not wanting to scare anymore unaware individuals, but surprisingly the large room she entered was empty beside a large table in front with a single man sitting behind it, writing steadily on papers scattered before him.
Two exists, no guards, unarmed, five security cameras all disabled.
Huh, this man was either really brave or really stupid.
Her first surprise came when she had to go through security and guards did not demand her weapons like she was sure they would do for safety purposes. Apparently Admiral gave her clearance since her presence was expected, weapons included. And now after doing a quick sweep of the room she realised that this man had taken no safety precautions whatsoever. Obviously her job wasn't to kill him so he had nothing to fear, but very rarely did clients request to meet with the hunter assigned to their case personally. Most of the time her 'kind' put people on edge and she got all the information she needed from Ludovic.
However, this case was top-secret and they didn't want to risk information getting out in public and thus requesting to meet the hunter in person so they would be the only one entrusted with this sensitive information. It may all seem bothersome, but the secrecy of this mission made her faintly curious about exactly whom she was going to be tracking and eventually killing. Whoever this person was she at least hoped they were clever and weren't a dull and predictable little instrument that was easy to catch.
The man behind the desk looked up, giving her a pleasant smile before slowly standing up to greet her. He was an elderly man with a bright grin and particular gleam in his eyes that caused her to bristle uneasily for some reason.
"It's good to finally meet you Miss…"
"They call me Sparrow."
Her answer was curl and more than a little flat and she tried to remind herself that she was here to do a job, not to make friends. The man before her gave her an odd look but didn't comment, clearly sensing that she wasn't there for idle chitchat.
"Ah, my name is Admiral Marcus," he introduced himself, "And I must apologise in advance for calling you out here. Unfortunately, the situation we are currently in is rather bleak."
He gestured for her to take a seat and she reluctantly obeyed, her muscles still tense.
"How much can you tell me about my target?" she finally spoke, causing Admiral to pull out a folder from one of the desk drawers and place it gingerly in her hands.
"His name is John Harrison and he is one of our top agents. He has been trained in combat since early age and has a mind of a killer," Marcus explained briefly, watching her carefully as she flickered through few sheets of paper that held information on the man in question. "He has killed nine of our people, two of which were doctors trying to help him. He is dangerous and we want him contained."
She raised an eyebrow, glancing up at the Admiral, "Why hire an assassin if you want him 'contained'?"
The man before her grimaced almost like he was hoping she wouldn't ask that question.
"The board has issued an order to kill John Harrison on sight," he stated placidly, leaning back in his chair, looking at her with something close to fake pity. "I'm afraid his crimes are far too great at this point for me to do anything to change the board members minds."
"And where is this board you speak of? Should they not be present for this meeting?"
The air seemed to drop few degrees, tension colouring the air, turning the atmosphere almost painfully uncomfortable. She couldn't quite explain her sudden distrust of the Admiral, but something about this whole mission seemed more than a little suspicious.
"My apologies, Sir. It was out of step for me to question you," she remarked coolly.
He waved her off, dismissing her like a child would an old toy, but his eyes sharpened and he regarded her more cautiously now, "No need to apologise. It is natural for you to be curious. As it is, it would be unwise to call the whole board here for seemingly no reason at all. So it was decided that I would deal with this issue personally. Surely you can understand our wish of secrecy? We do not wish to cause panic."
"And this…John Harrison is reason enough to cause panic?" she questioned a little sceptically. She had heard many times her clients exaggerating the abilities of a person they wanted her to hunt down. Each time, however, she was disappointed.
"Indeed he is," Admiral answered, "He's a savage, young hunter. He is not to be underestimated."
She eyed the Admiral attentively, her lips pulling up in a ghost of a smile.
"I'm cautious not to make that mistake, Sir."
She looked down at only picture of Harrison in the folder, imprinting his profile in her mind. Image before her was taken by a security camera no doubt, since Harrison's outline was the only thing visible. He was tall, she realised, muscular build, strong jawline, pale skin and mop of dark hair. He wore dark clothes, blending almost perfectly with the crowd of unaware civilians. Her eyebrows furrowed when she read over his file and examination results. His scores were insane – he excelled in every category to the max, his record was spotless beside few scribbled comments at the bottom.
Prone to fits of violence.
Lack of empathy.
Displays of psychotic behaviour.
Extremely dangerous if unattended.
There was a curious burn at the back of her mind, but she knew better than to question Admiral about these little comments. Whether they were put there for her benefit, she did not know, but there was definitely something fishy going on here. Why hire someone so unstable if he presented such danger to everyone?
"I trust you will be able to handle this job?" Admiral spoke up, cutting her musings short. She looked up at the older man and gave him a sharp nod.
"I will deal with this man as soon as I can," she replied. "I believe you have been informed about terms of our agreement by my colleague," she added after second thought.
Admiral gave her a wide grin, "Indeed I have been."
"Very well," she intoned neutrally. "I will contact you when the target has been taken out, I suggest you have money ready by then. If that is all?"
She stood up without waiting to be dismissed, her back unusually rigged as she waited for Admiral to try and stop her. She couldn't quite explain her steady growing dislike for the man, but something about him set her teeth on edge. There were quite few people she disliked in this universe, but the man before her was quickly climbing up that list.
"As far as we are aware, he is still on Earth," Admiral added wile standing up as well, his eyes scrutinizing her. "That should hopefully narrow down your search."
"He has no means of transport off the Earth then?" she inquired keenly. That just may be the first piece of good news she had in the last few days.
"He is intelligent as well as resourceful, I won't put it past him to find some way of escaping from Earth sooner or later," Admiral clarified.
There was a slight pause in the air, "Understood. I will begin the search immediately, Sir."
Suddenly he stepped forward, capturing her hand in his and giving it a firm shake. "Know that your efforts are appreciated, hunter. I'm sure that you will deal with this quickly and efficiently, after all you are the best."
Not really, she wanted to input, but held the words in, her body rigid from a strain of an unfamiliar and unwelcomed exchange.
Admiral gave her a smile that looked more like a sickly twisted smirk of some unknown satisfaction, and in return she gave him a mocking half grin that reeked of discontent. He finally let her hand go, her fingers instantly curling into a loose fist before she walked out of the door without backwards glance.
Admiral's eyes followed her out of the room, and the fingers holding John Harrison's folder tightened almost painfully around it.
It took her three days of nonstop tracking to come anywhere near him.
Whenever she managed to get close, he somehow managed to evade her, slipping past her fingers like a wisp of smoke, leaving nothing but frustration and burning determination behind. He was very skilful when it came to dodging people, and even though he didn't know who was tracking him, he was certainly aware that someone was trying to find him.
Sparrow walked silently through a busy street, her gun resting comfortably against her hip, her eyes attentively looking through the streets. She had been tracking Harrison down without any rest throughout the night and whole of the day, knowing that if she allowed herself to rest, he would be gone again and she would be left to chase his shadow.
His instincts and self-awareness were quite remarkable if not a little worrisome. He had been able to evade her at every turn so far, something rare in itself as she was known as one of the best trackers in the Organisation. She may lack raw strength others had, but her quick mind more than made up for it since it allowed her to anticipate her opponents next move and counter it, always being one step ahead.
But Harrison was different. His moves were made without any real pattern and seemingly without any real focus or goal in mind, but she knew better. He was far too clever, far too well trained to aimlessly prowl around the streets when he knew that Starfleet was after him for murder.
She bit her lip, flexing her fingers in preparation for an inevitable fight. She managed to narrow down on a block he was most likely staying in, although even she could not get his exact location, he was simply to erratic for that.
She turned to cut down a low alleyway, deciding that going from other side of the street would be a better choice as it was mostly garages and backdoors with empty, dark streets. These were the last two streets she had left to check since everything else in the nearby area had been cleared at least twice. This region was a little more remote and away from the city centre which made the logical part of her mind say that this area was the most suspicious one – the exact reason why she left it last.
"No!"
Her instincts flared to life, and she slammed her back against left side of the alley wall, her gun held tightly in her hand as she turned her head to one side, ears desperately searching for slightest of sound. There was a low thud and a pained groan, causing Sparrow to raise her gun and turn left sharply, her gun aimed at scene before her.
She saw three figures in front of her, and shockingly she recognised every single one of them.
Organisation's Number 1 and 2 also known as Shiro and Gaily or more commonly as Twins laid on the floor of the filthy alleyway. Shiro laid to the right, his body bloodied and unmoving, his limbs and head all turned in awkward angles, and it didn't take her long to realise that his arms, legs as well as neck were snapped viciously. He was taken down, disabled so he won't be able to escape, and later killed. He was also more than likely used to lure his sister, the infamous Number 1 into a deadly trap. Gaily was on opposite side of the alleyway, her arm bleeding heavily while she staggered back, her eyes full of horror while she stared at the figure before her.
"No, no, please," she begged, her voice a soft plea that was full of unspeakable fear that cut deep into Sparrow's soul.
Was this really the same Gaily she knew? Organisation's Number 1 who didn't fear anything and who, together with her brother, had taken out dozens upon dozens of most feared and powerful individuals in this universe. Her species was known for their remarkable lack of fear in the face of death, however she was now reduced to a sniffling mess who was begging for her life, her brother dead at her feet.
The figure before Gaily moved slowly, painfully so, like a predator would move when it stalked its pray, every move calculated to precision.
They wanted to install fear, and they succeeded.
A pale hand shot out, locking around Gaily's neck firmly, smashing her ruthlessly into the grimy wall behind her.
Then, it was over in matter of seconds.
The hand that was holding Gaily in place tightened savagely around her neck, causing the said female to gasp for air in attempt to scream. Suddenly there was a loud crack, and Gaily's gurgled screaming stopped, her body slumping numbly against the wall. Her neck not snapped, but completely crushed so she would go through last few seconds of excruciating agony before life faded from her body.
The hand lifted off her neck, letting the body fall pathetically to the ground with a resounding thud, causing Sparrow to flinch for the first time in years. Her body too numbed by shock couldn't move as her mind tried to wrap around the fact that two deadliest assassins in perhaps whole of universe laid dead couple of feet away from her.
And then the figure turned in her direction as if sensing her presence, her heart almost freezing in her chest when she locked eyes with her comrades' murderer.
John Harrison.
Her mind finally supplied, quickly collecting itself from the shock it just went through. The same board frame, the same dark hair – there was no mistaking who he was.
She clamped down every emotion bubbling beneath her skin: fear, rage, disbelief, amazement. Instead she raised her hand higher and straightening her posture, aiming the barrel of the gun straight at Harrison's chest.
"Don't move," she ordered angrily, edging closer towards him. And like ordered, he didn't move, in fact he seemed almost relaxed and she gritted her teeth furiously. She wasn't foolish enough to think that he would just go down without some sort of fight.
And then he moved, almost too quickly to seem human, dashing in opposite alley, his dark coat flapping behind him. She didn't hesitate, immediately racing after him, her anger giving her extra fuel, making her go even faster.
He was fast though. So fast that for a moment doubt flickered through her mind when she realised that there was no way to stop him unless she somehow threw him off, made him slow down. Harrison rushed into a bustling street, brushing past people who stumbled and fell from sheer force and speed of his movements. She followed after him, her lungs starting to burn and sweat starting to gather at her temple from pure ferocity of their chase. Harrison shot left and realisation filtered through her brain with sinking horror. He was running towards Town Square where she would undoubtedly lose him amongst masses of people.
"Oh, no you don't," she huffed roughly, clenching her hand tighter around her gun. She slowed, aiming over Harrison's head at the fountain he was just about to run past. She pulled the trigger, one side of fountain exploding, water spraying everyone within couple feet distance. Screams filled the air, causing Harrison stop and take sharp right that left her reeling as she tried desperately not to stumble over her own feet while making the turn herself. She pushed aside rushing people in her way, trying to keep Harrison's coat in her line of vision so she won't lose him. Finally, she cut through the crowd, her heart beating widely in her ears as she stumbled to a stop.
Where was he? Where was he? There.
Her eyes locked on his figure trying to escape via fire exit staircase that led up to the roof of a nearby building. She rushed after him, deciding not to question his poor choice of escape route as he practically trapped himself in the building since it was well known that all doors were designed to open from inside not outside so he had no way to get into the building, his only option being the roof. The building was tall and with at least 15 floors which meant that he had no way off the roof either if he was reckless enough to try and escape from such height.
Her legs were burning as she gasped for air, her eyes constantly moving up to catch a glimpse of Harrison who was almost at the top of the building. She cursed under her breath, pushing herself to go even faster – she couldn't afford to lose him now. It took her another few minutes to get up on the top, her breath laboured but eyes attentively searching for her target. She moved forward slowly, her gun raised, her finger on the trigger ready to shoot.
Her eyes narrowed when she realised that roof was seemingly empty, no sign of Harrison anywhere. She quickly moved towards the edge of the building briefly glancing over it before she moved back to check the door that led from the roof inside the building. She reached out carefully, her breath stuck in her throat as her fingers tested the lock. She turned the handle; a sigh of relief escaping her slightly chapped lips when the door remained locked. That meant he had to be on the roof, still. She instantly turned around but a second too late as dark blur suddenly landed from above her, Harrison's arm flying to slam against her neck, her head smashing painfully against the metal door. A feeble gasp escaped her lips, pain rushing through her body like poison, making her cringe ever so slightly once she felt blood coating her hair.
Stars danced in her vision, and it took her a moment to realise that Harrison's arm was pushed agonizingly against the slender column of her neck, slowly cutting off her air supply. But she wasn't completely defenceless as the barrel of her gun pressed securely against his chest right above his heart. His other hand was locked firmly around that same wrist with enough force to shatter her whole arm in seconds, but she managed to keep in her cry of pain, biting inside of her cheek instead.
She took a deep breath, finally allowing her vision to clear and see her attacker up close. The impact hit her like a physical blow. His eyes were of such undiluted blue it was as if heavenly artist had crushed sapphires into his paints before pouring pure silver and colouring in the irises with the finest brushes. His skin was pale, high cheekbones and full lips that were pressed into a neutral and straight line. His hair that was slightly tousled from the wind was black as coal. But black was too tame of word for it. It was so pure it held echoes of the night, vivid and passionate. Cut in careless layers that were previously styled back and now stopped at the nape of his neck, baring the sharp angles of his face.
He was incredibly handsome; there was no doubt about it. His beauty was that of a warrior or a conqueror. This man had power stamped on every inch of his skin, every piece of his flesh. His body was pressed against hers, his taller frame towering over hers dangerously. And only then did she realise how cautious she was of his strength and height. She wasn't used to feeling small. Or weak. And he caused her to experience both sensations – and without any apparent effort – causing her anger to increase tenfold. She couldn't remember the last time she felt actual fear.
Years, at least.
And his arm…
Damn it, she should have realised this sooner. He wasn't trying to suffocate her. His arm pressing harshly against her windpipe was intentional, because he if he moved quickly enough, twisting his arm 52 degrees to the left, he would be able to snap her neck like a twig. That was his intention all along. The only thing stopping him was the gun pressed above his beating heart. He could snap her neck just as quickly as she could pull the trigger.
It was a stalemate.
"It would seem we got ourselves in a bit of a pickle," she muttered lowly, her words coming out in short gasps.
Something dark and dangerous shifted into those icy cold eyes of his that scrutinized her every move. There was something so cold, so driven and utterly emotionless about him that it chilled her to the bone.
And then the corner of his mouth lifted slightly forming a flicker of a smirk that bore a hint of mockery and pure, lethal focus.
"Careful."
The word was soft, the tone dark. He was taunting her and they both knew it.
Alarm bells rang in her head hearing the husky, smooth tone of his voice that sounded…completely normal. He didn't even seem out of breath. If she didn't know any better she would have thought that he just came from having a peaceful stroll in the park. The mussed hair that brushed against his forehead was the only sign of the intense chase they just participated in. But that couldn't be right. No matter how physically fit he was such feat was not possible without slightest sign of fatigue, none of which he displayed.
She pushed the gun even further into his chest, causing him to tighten his grip on her arm, making her let out a small hiss of pain. There was only one way to get away from him alive. And that was to sacrifice her wrist.
Either she decided to break her wrist on her own accord or he was going to break her neck and end her right there on that rooftop. It won't be too bad, she figured, she had broken many bones before and the way his weight was shifted and his fingers latched onto her wrist, she figured that she will either come out with a completely snapped wrist at worst or a badly fractured one at best.
Then, she briefly remembered what her mentor, Teresa, told her a very long time:
"You can't ever win if you're always on the defence. To win, you have to attack."
She gritted her teeth and looked straight into Harrison's steely eyes that burned with some unknown intensity. Her loose hand formed a fist and she sprung.
Whoever makes the first move wins.
Her fists struck his ribs, causing his hand to loosen marginally around her wrist and she twisted around, a loud crack echoing around them as she ripped her hand away from him, searing pain shooting through her limbs. She stumbled backwards, her gun already in her left hand, pointed at Harrison even though absolute anguish ripped through her flesh, her swollen and heavily bruised wrist laying limply against her side.
There was a flicker of surprise in Harrison's cool eyes but it was gone in a blink of an eye, his eyes critically inspecting her steady grip on the gun. She couldn't quite understand why he was surprised that she forfeited her wrist since it was definitely a better alternative than a broken neck, but decided not to voice her thoughts out loud.
There was a moment of absolute silence from both parties, nothing but whooshing of the wind around them before Harrison suddenly turned around leaping off the roof. Her eyes widened in horror as she ran to the edge, watching in astonishment as Harrison stood up on his feet walking ahead few steps like nothing had happened. He turned, slowly, raising his head to look at her as if challenging her to come after him now. But she wasn't idiotic enough to try and pull a similar stunt. Wind blew around her, ruffling her short hair and she watched in irritation as Harrison smirked darkly and giving her one last sardonic look turned around disappearing in the sea of people in matter of seconds, even her sharp eyes unable to trail him for long.
Sparrow stood on the rooftop for another few minutes still reeling from the meeting with her newest target. Whoever John Harrison was, he wasn't normal. She just saw him run at least a mile in speed that seemed humanly impossible and jump off a 15-floor building without a single scratch on him.
But whoever he was, or whatever he was, she was sure that she would be seeing him again, and sooner rather than later.
She was going to hunt him down no matter how long it may take her.
"Just who are you John Harrison?"
AN: Hope that was okay? I don't know if you guys liked it, it's very different from my usual style, especially when it comes to OC. Hope she was alright for your taste. And apologies about my action scenes, I don't do action that well. =D I wanted to make this first chapter extra long and juicy for you to see if any of you are interested, if not, I'll just leave it as a one-shot.
Thank you for reading.
A.