Eric held his pistol close and his breath tight as "Tainted Love," blasting from speakers just one story down, shook the floor and his feet. He shuddered as his right cuff brushed his wrist: it was damp with blood from Eric's efforts to get down the hall in relative safety. Still, using the body as a meat shield had its consequences-Eric would have to replace his suit jacket and his comfiest button-up, and his hand was frustratingly slick from the blood.
Not that it mattered too much. The job would reap rewards. Always did. Eric edged up to the corner of the hall, checking around the corner. Two marks. Two bullets. Easy. Silencer ever-reliable, Eric made the corner sharply. One-a hall mirror now reflected a splattering of fresh blood. Two-the man in left kneeling behind an armchair, head tilted toward the light, eyes wide to God, a new hole just slightly off-center in his forehead. Eric continued down the hall.
He trained his gun on an open door. A small kick and the door swung inward. Eric entered and swiftly took out the only opponent. He double checked the room before closing the door and stepping over the body and finally kneeling before the hostage. A ginger, his clothes torn and his mouth gagged. But his green eyes burned with a fierce hatred. Eric holstered his gun in order to procure his knife and swiftly cut the hostage, Kyle Broflovski, free.
Broflovski's first action was to pull the gag off his mouth. "Goddammit, Cartman, just how did you even get here?"
"No time to talk. Want a gun?"
"Of course I want a gun," Kyle said. Cartman motioned to the body. Kyle scowled but chose to quickly search the body for a gun. And, of course, they had one. He scowled at that, too.
Eric took a moment to reload his gun, and once Kyle seemed acquainted with his own weapon, he grabbed a fistful of Kyle's sleeve. "Time to go," Eric ordered.
Eric steered Kyle with his right hand while taking aim with his left. Kyle balanced his firearm with both hands. If he hadn't been so tense, Cartman would have huffed and pestered Kyle over it. He looked like a cop; not that he wasn't. Staff Sergeant Broflovski excelled in the force, which is exactly how the idiot had landed himself as a fucking hostage-
Eric reminded himself to stay focused. To breathe. To get Kyle out safely. Eric would get Kyle out, get Kyle back to working his stupid cop job, get Kyle back to his apartment with Stan, get Kyle back his relatively safe life, that way Eric could go back to IMF and go back to living life as a ghost on behalf of the government. He focused on his goals when he forced Kyle to take the steps slowly, for sake of keeping low-profile. Eric focused on these goals as he pushed Kyle through the mass of people all dancing to remixed 80s music.
Eric couldn't even relax when he go Kyle outside. Instead, he placed his hand on Kyle's back and directed him to a black motorcycle parked just across the street.
"Aw, you even brought an extra helmet," Kyle teased.
But Eric wasn't having teases tonight. They just sped off into the night with nothing but the sounds of traffic to break the silence of the night.