FlashForward Fan Fiction - These Things
SYNOPSIS: Sergio Aucin, a Russian hitman finds himself shoot and grasping for life. Written in noir style.
Cold air stings when it's flowing through bullet-riddled ribs. Sergio forced a palm into his chest, failing to keep his inky blood from escaping.
The bulky Russian could feel his lungs fill slowly, breathing in a thick metallic mist. His father had always told him his days were number. Today his unit of count switched from years to minutes.
The glossy glimmer of a Desert Eagle swung suddenly over Sergio. Thick, hairy hands held the grip firmly, the creature's index finder still tapping the trigger guard.
"We allow ourselves to believe that the moon is free, dangling in mid-air, completely uncontrollable." The gunman's voice was phlegmatic, eerie. "But there is a distinct order, a path by which it must follow. Always orbiting. Always following."
Sergio released his hand from it's clasp against his chest, aware that the blood wouldn't escape as it was pooling into the reservoir which was his left lung. Placing both hands firmly on the ground, Sergio forced himself into a sitting position.
The gunman took a step closer, pushing the warm barrel of the gun into Sergio's forehead. As the gunman drew the hammer back, "Don't stress over Saba. I'll be taking good care of she."
As the deafening bullet exited the chamber, Sergio leapt awake. Safely in bed, his prospected death was nothing more than a dream.
Sergio laid back down, nestling himself under the heavy comforter. Bad dreams were nothing new to Sergio. Neither was being shot.
A lifetime in the Russian Mafia had given him more than a handful of scars. The four inch slash across his back was when his best friend, Vlad caught him sleeping with Vlad's wife. Sergio learned his lesson - make sure your mistress is on top.
Sergio also prompted his five bullet wounds to offset his missing five collective digits. Left pinky, left middle finger and three toes on his right foot. Rarely did Sergio run, which is why he was the most meticulous hitman within the Solntsevskaya bratva.
It wasn't until the morning when Vlad's phone call woke Sergio that he had realized that his awful nightmare was much worse; it was a vision of the future.
Over his morning vodka Sergio pondered his vision. Most people would wonder why they had been shot or who their killer is, but Sergio was curious about one thing: Who is Saba?
Sergio was always aware that his days were number, but now he knew the exact tally.