Noah walked down the rampant Paris streets making his way along to Aurora's. People were up in arms about the sudden explosion and wanted answers. Noah would've been the only one who could give them those answers; since it was his apartment that blew. His gait was hampered by the possibly broken leg he'd sustained from the fall out of the apartment.
Again his gun clanked against his belt buckle. But no one was going to pay attention to that sound right now. "I'm coming Aurora." He kept telling himself this so that he could keep going. His leg, with every step, sent greater twinges of pain throughout his whole body. He wore a grimace of utter pain with every step. No matter of convincing was going to take the pain away until he finally got to Aurora's. Police cars zoomed by, sirens blaring, lights blinking; he felt déjà vu over come him.
He shook his head then grabbed at his leg. "What could he possibly want with it?" He asked himself, all the while avoiding the succession of answers that could possibly fulfill the requirements of the question. After several blocks of walking he finally found himself standing upon the steps of Aurora's apartment, hitting the buzzer obnoxiously until she answered. "Oui?" she answered.
"C'est moi, Noah. Puis-je venir?"
She yelped excitedly, "Bien sûr, ma chère!" She buzzed him up. He smiled and sighed, he felt maybe he'd found some sort of relief, a sort of safe haven. He limped his way to the elevator and hit her floor and eased into the side of the elevator and waited. Thoughts ran through his head as he tried to piece together the events of the last three days or so. Was this some sort of elaborate plan to pull him out of retirement? Or something far more sinister? Questions he had no way of answering for the time being. Questions he feared the answers to.
Before finally reaching Aurora's floor the elevator stopped at a current floor and picked up the single inhabitant of that floor. They exchanged smiles and he wadded in and pressed his floor. It was the same one though. Paranoia set in, as would be proper for someone who had their apartment recently blown up and stalked by government officials.
Noah found his hand upon his right leg inching carefully toward his gun but not producing it, just resting it near. The man remained blissfully unaware of the ominous movement of his elevator mate. "Nice day, huh?"
"Oui."
"Oh, you speak French? Sorry, it's just you looked American."
"Non." The other man chuckled, "Mes excuses." He said in very sloppy French. Probably just a dumb tourist here to visit an older relative or some s—t, he thought, no need to get so bent out of shape. He moved his hand away from the gun. "You probably shouldn't do that." His words hung in the air as the elevator came to a stop. "Excusez-moi?" And he hit the stop button of the elevator and it stopped, unable to run 'til the button is pressed again.
"Drop the innocent bystander act—, it ain't working." He removed his hand from area of the gun and eyed him suspiciously, "Lemme guess, P sent you?"
He nodded and removed another letter, "And he's pissed. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, just return the stuff and everything'll be peachy-keen." Noah shook his head unwilling to believe this. "Is this some sort of goddamned conspiracy?" Noah spat at him. "If only," he chortled, "it's far worse my friend. Far, far worse."
"I'm just trying to help you out with this by giving you advice: return it; I don't care what it is or why it's important but return the damned thing, for everyone's sake."
"Lemme get this straight, he hasn't told any of you either?" He smiled and licked his lips, "That doesn't matter, cause I'm willing to bet all my money that… neither do you." Noah smirked and hit the button, "That doesn't matter; because it ain't happening." The man grabbed at Noah's hands but Noah was faster and grabbed hold of his head and smashed it into the panel, leaving a bloody print. He bent down to meet the gaze of the man, "Don't try that s—t again; tell P that I don't have whatever the hell it is he wants, and you can make bank on that." He glared at the man then left. He spit a bunch of bloody teeth after him; he paid no mind.
"This is a mistake—get back here! P is going to take her apart piece by goddamned piece!" This struck an indelible thorn in his side; he was pissed. Noah returned to the elevator and removed his gun and placed it, harshly, into his cheek. "You tell P that if he lays one hand her—and I mean even one f—king hand on her, that I will remove every part of his body and mail it to his mother! Got it?" He nodded, mockingly, all the while retaining a ceaselessly annoying smile. "Repeat what I said." He shuddered, mockingly. "Repeat it." He said so harshly that had he been anybody else it would've broken them in two. He stuck the gun into his left knee and pulled the trigger; the pain was unbearable for him, he tried to yell but Noah had placed the hand over his mouth keeping him nice and quiet. "Repeat it." He said again, nicer than before. "Go to hell—!" Noah shook his head and placed the gun into his thigh and pulled the trigger again, all the while holding his mouth shut. Blood trickled lightly onto the floor of the elevator; he asked again but refused to repeat it. "Then die." He put the gun against his head, nearly smashing the silenced barrel through. Tears fell out of his eyes and onto Noah's hand. Then something seeped from the mid section of his body and Noah realized it wasn't blood. "You stupid piss-ant; you're pathetic, you make this threats and are desperately scared of death. You disgust me." Noah backed away from him and let him fall into his pile of piss and blood.
"Okay, okay, if P lays one hand on her you'll tear him apart and send his body parts to his mother," he said through broken sobs. "Very good, now go to the hospital." He said and hit the button for the bottom floor and watched him make silent sobs until the elevator doors closed up. He was finally back on his path to get to Aurora. He rapped on the door lightly and awaited her greeting; which came after ten seconds. She shrieked and jumped up and down then grabbed onto her love, disinclined to let him go. He returned her love by grabbing hold of her and loving on her, kissing and rubbing his hands up her back. "Il a été pendant quelque temps," he said, slightly nervous. "Oui mon chère," she said continuing to kiss his face. The smile disappeared from his face as he remembered what that guy had said, "…P is going to take her apart piece by goddamned piece…"
He couldn't let anything happen to her, "Aurora… we have to talk." He took her over to the loveseat and they sat. She sat with her legs over each other and placed at an angle, like a proper lady. "Uhm, ha, let's see… how do I put this?"
"What is wrong Noah?" Her accent was terribly heavy and laden upon the words it barely sounded like English. But he loved when she spoke it. He placed his hands over Aurora's and held them while muttering incoherently. "Aurora; Tu es la vie est en grand danger, Je crains que si vous restez près de moi, vous aurez du mal. Je ne veux pas, je mourrais pour toi." He affectionately told her, she was his life force he couldn't let her get hurt because of him. "I have to leave but I'll come back, I promise. Je vous promets." He cradled her head onto his chest and kissed her forehead gently. "No please… I don't… soins… I love… I love you Noah." What would he do? How could he leave her? He couldn't put her in danger, not willingly at least; he loved her far too much. "No matter how far; I'll always be in your heart, je serai dans ton coeur."
"I know… oui but please Noah, stay; I can be safe… with you." Would they leave her alone if he left to fight them by himself? Could he risk it? Hell no. "Je vais rester…. I'll stay, to protect you." She jumped up once again and repeated the same procedure she had done in the doorway. "But you have to abide by my rules; this is no game honey, this is life or death… for both of us." She nodded.
…
The President continued to steam about the incident with Emilio; how could he be so naïve? Of course he could kill Emilio; for God's sake he killed his father. All on his accord; why did he send him to do that job? It was a goddamn mistake. "The letter's been delivered sir," Trottier said as he walked through the door and taking his jacket off. The President's chair didn't face Trot, he didn't care if the letter had been delivered, and he only cared if he gave up the stuff. "How did he react?" His voice was very quiet and almost inaudible. "Interesting to say the least sir, he seemed to recognize what we were talking about but seemed so shocked to even relinquish the name." The President nodded then tapped his fingers upon the arm of his chair. "This is good, very good." Peterson walked in aglow. "We also got his rat, Ignacio; unfortunately this rat wouldn't squeal one goddamn lick of info." He nodded to himself then continued to tap on the arm of the chair, "Well if he doesn't talk… kill him."
"Whatever you say Mr. President." Peterson retreated back to the holding cell of Ignacio. Ignacio was beaten and bloody; his clothes tattered, ripped and appallingly bloodstained. His nose had been broken so many times you couldn't tell if he had ever had one. He wheezed and gasped for breath after one of his lungs had been punctured. He would've gladly welcomed death at this point; he was on the verge as well. "We ready to talk?"
"Go f—k yourself you filthy c—k sucker…" He wheezed. "Sorry it's not going to be that easy; so where do you suppose—is keeping the X?" He found himself in a coughing fit that was so unbearable that he would've rather had his head stuck into a propeller. Ignacio started gasping for breath but due to Peterson's lack of a brain he didn't realize that he was dying. Finally, still struggling to grab one last breath, Ignacio passed from consciousness and into the blissful eternity. "Oh s—t! Someone get in here, we got a guy dying." It was too late; he'd failed in extracting the information they needed.
Peterson found himself in that same cell, and Trot on the outside holding his .45. "Sorry Peterson, you shoulda been more careful." Peterson shook his head, "Don't do it Trot, think of all I've done for—." Trot shot Peterson mid sentence and right between the eyes. He collapsed upon the wall that held the bunk bed up.
"It's taken care of sir." The President nodded, "Good; but it looks as if we'll need a new tact, something more hard hitting." Suddenly that malicious smile lit up the darkness of the room and it caused a sheer terror to run throughout Trot.
"Call Constance…" It took all of Trot's being to not faint, "Are you sure sir, Constance? Isn't that a little dangerous?"
"Oh most definitely which is why it'll work." Trot left to call up Guantanamo Bay, the housing prison of Constance, possibly the most dangerous woman in the world. Noah and Aurora were in for more trouble than they could possibly fathom…