Well, it's Wednesday and I couldn't wait to update! (First thing I did once I woke up...despite having a ton of history essays to read...sigh) Therefore make sure to leave a review so I don't feel like I completely wasted my time! XD No pressure... ENJOY!
9
Christophe knew he was being watched. He could feel it in through a tingling sensation running up and down his back like flees. He brought the cup of fresh coffee to his lips, hiding a knowing smile. He had to admit, Gregory was getting too good at stalking people. Had Christophe not been expecting him he would have been oblivious to the Brit's presence. As it were, it was only his experienced instinct which told him he was the subject of the other's stare. He'd been looking but he hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of slicked back blond hair. He pretended to be lost in some deep thought, occasionally taking a gulp of his coffee, wondering how long Gregory would keep him under surveillance. He knew the other liked to be thorough but he doubted he had a lot of time to complete his mission.
Christophe had been right in assuming Gregory would start scouting his query early. It was still Sunday and technically speaking he was still on the clock but Gregory wasn't the type to wait his turn. He probably thought he was being so smart but Christophe was smart too and he'd told the others to get everything ready a day early. There was a chance Gregory won't go after Craig that night, content with making sure Christophe wouldn't get in the way, but he wasn't willing to take that risk. If Gregory left his watch he knew it would be to go after Craig. He just hoped the British bitch won't delay too much or else he'd miss the 'opportunity' to follow Craig to the trap.
He glanced surreptitiously to the clock on the Green Apple's wall. It was nearing half six. He could picture Craig pacing around his apartment, glancing at his own clock every ten seconds just to make sure he hadn't somehow missed his window. Another smile came to his lips and he didn't bother to hide this one. He hoped Stan was ready and wouldn't get cold feet. He'd given him clear instructions about how to act and where to wait. Finding out about Stan's infatuation with Gregory had been a surprise but Christophe hoped it wasn't strong enough to overpower his friendship with Craig. No...He had to trust in Stan's resolve. He had no choice.
With narrowed eyes he realized the feeling of being watched was gone. Gregory had left his watch. He glanced at the clock. It was a quarter to seven. Slowly he brought the third cup of the day to his lips and swallowed the last of the bitter contents. The plan was in motion.
Craig left the building a just a little after seven. He didn't have the Mole's skills or his developed senses so he had no idea if he was being followed but he knew it wouldn't matter either way. He was supposed to plead ignorance after all and he convinced himself this was just another day. After pacing his bedroom countless times he fooled himself into temporarily believing that going to the abandoned apartment block was as habitual for him as frequenting the Green Apple. What he wouldn't have given for a cup of latte in that moment so it would steel him. He could practically feel the heat emanating from the paper cup...
With a shiver, he pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie and scrunched his neck into the yellow scarf wound tightly up to his nose. It was cold, even for South Park and Craig regretted not taking an extra jacket. He wanted to run, eager to reach his destination and warm up his limbs a little with the effort but that might set off one of Gregory's alarms, if he was even following. His part in this was the easiest and he was at least grateful to Christophe for that, besides his eternal gratitude for the mercenary risking his life to keep his from harm. All he had to do was bait Gregory into following up to the fourth floor. The rest would be up to Stan and he knew he could depend on his friend to pull his weight.
Fortunately the building wasn't too far off. It was within walking distance from his apartment and after turning another wide street he could see it. The place looked horrible, a monument to the mayor's embezzling. All the windows, as far as Craig could see, were shattered and where the walls had once been a spotless white a dirty gravy replaced them. He knew the floors were littered with debris from some caved in ceilings and, on the lower levels, syringes and used condoms. Clyde had dared him to go inside once and climb to the top level. He hadn't made it past the sixth floor. Only an idiot would endanger his life for a dare and he was no idiot. The top floors were in terrible condition since the roof leaked and the floorboards were loosened with water. He doubted they could hold a child's weight, much less his. The fourth floor should be fine though and it was high enough that passer-bys would be oblivious to anyone inside. He saw the haunted look in Christophe's eyes when he mentioned phase two and he doubted Gregory was going to enjoy his stay... if they managed to catch him.
The noise of the city centre began to thin out, most choosing to avoid the whole street where the abandoned building was. This particular side of town wasn't known for abiding by the law... Craig gritted his teeth and continued to move, not in the mood to think about the possibility of being stabbed as well. It was bad enough he probably had an assassin hot on his heels, he didn't need any extra trouble. A few women, he took to be prostituted from their revealing clothes, cast him interested looks but when he ignored them they did the same to him. They would have been more persistent if he looked like had cash but he didn't even look worth robbing. Maybe that was why he reached the building without any obstructions. He offered a silent thanks to his lucky stars as he slid past the broken door.
The gloomy inside swallowed him in its filmy corridor. There was just enough natural light filtering through the shattered windows for Craig to know where he was going but even if he was being followed and Gregory stood ten steps behind him he would have missed him. The sound of his steps bounced off the bare walls and echoed down the hallways. He didn't attempt to silence them though he nearly flinched when he accidentally kicked an empty bottle down the steps. The glass bounced off a few steps before it crashed on the concrete. He wasn't the jumpy sort but the deafening sound of that bottle braking in the absolute silence was eerie even for him. He thought he heard the scurrying of small feet somewhere to his left and realized there were probably entire generations of rats living inside the unkempt walls. He could only imagine what the upper levels looked like, unfrequented even by daring youths or junkies.
He felt sorry for Stan, having to spend the night alone in this place. As he reached the second floor, he couldn't help thinking about the sacrifice his friend was making for him. He and Stan had grown close since Kenny's death and then Kyle's move. Soon after Stan stopped hanging around Cartman too in favour of spending his time with Craig and they'd grown even closer. They're relationship reached its climax one evening when Craig was helping Stan with some homework and they somehow ended on the cough, making out. At first Craig had been surprised by Stan telling him he was gay but then things suddenly made more sense. His closeness to Kyle for one and his confusing relationship with Wendy. He knew Stan cared for the girl but he couldn't remember ever seeing true passion in their interactions. That evening, and later that night, he finally understood why. He and Stan were good friends, maybe even best friends, but he would have never expected the other to jump in the fire like that for him. He'd tried to talk Stan out of it after Christophe finished laying out his plan but if there was one thing Stan inherited from his father it was his stubbornness.
Craig reached the fourth floor and turned away from the winding steps, walking along the dark corridor instead. The light was thinner here and he was grateful Stan left the door of the right room open. He walked towards the weak ray of light reaching from the window inside. He resisted the urge to turn around and look if Gregory was following him. He remembered what Christophe said about the other waiting to catch Craig in a wide room so he could cut him down and realized the corridor would do the trick. Those few steps to the door were the longest of his life but finally he reached it and stepped through the shaft of light.
Gregory felt the familiar hardness of his cutlass' hilt. His long fingers easily curved around the rounded handle, tightening their grip on the metal. He had his target in sight and if he so wished he could cut him down in the blink of an eye. Craig didn't seem to suspect anything but Gregory chose to bide his time. He was slightly intrigued about the student's choice of a final resting place and couldn't deny his curiosity at what was inside that room. After he'd made sure Christophe wasn't going to get in his way, he'd set out to kill Craig in his apartment. He'd reached the street just in time to catch a glimpse of Craig leaving down a narrow street. Normally he wouldn't have followed, unwilling to put himself at risk by entering unknown territory but this was a medical student, not an experienced fighter. The only thing he'd been weary of was Christophe and he didn't seem to hold any interest in protecting the boy... Besides, he didn't have all the time in the world. Unlike Christophe, he only had a day to kill the target. His employers were getting impatient.
His steps were light as a feline's and didn't make a sound to disturb the silence. The scratching of the rats' hasty retreat was louder than his. The other assassins' nicknamed him the Silent Death because he could sneak up on anyone and have the sharp edge of his cutlass piercing their heart before the victim had a chance to gasp. He admitted he wasn't as strong in hand to hand combat as the Mole which was why he rarely gave his targets an opportunity to retaliate. Which was not to say he was helpless in a fight, far from it.
The notion of all this being a trap entered his mind but he dismissed it. He'd seen Craig's file. There was no evidence of the student having any background in that sort of stuff. He looked inside the room, seeing his target with his back to him, staring intently out the window. It was one of the very few rooms with the windows still intact. Gregory took a silent step closer, his hand drawing the cutlass out of its scabbard. Three steps in and the illusion of silence was shattered by a loud bang. Gregory whirled around to see a second man behind him, holding the door shut. Gregory had been so intent on the target he'd ignored his instincts altogether. The gas mask on the stranger's head confounded him for a second and that was enough. He saw something drop from the masked individual's hand and roll towards him. White clouds of smoke swirled out of the canister and Gregory's vision began to dim with the first accidental inhale.
He tried to draw out his sword but he couldn't make his fingers obey, all the strength gone out of his limbs. He managed to turn and look at Craig, only then noticing the student was also wearing a gas mask. He must have slipped it on when he entered the room and Gregory lost sight of him for a handful of seconds. He coughed as he felt himself fall to his knees. He felt light headed and dizzy and knew he was done for. He fell for the oldest trick in the book, knock out gas. This had Christophe written all over it and he smirked weakly to himself. The mercenary was going to get a laugh out of this one...
Christophe reached the room just as the two were peeling off their masks. The window was open and the room was aired out. Without any worry of falling into their own trap, the two were free to remove the uncomfortable gas masks. Christophe let his sharp eyes survey the scene, noting that Craig was well and then catching sight of the unconscious assassin on the floor. The cutlass was half drawn and Christophe knew had they been a nanosecond later, Craig would be cleaved in half. He'd felt first-hand how sharp that blade was and seen how skilled Gregory was at handling it. One move meant one life.
'You did well Stan.' Stan's eyes were also glued to the knocked out man and he nodded absent mindedly. Craig knelt by Gregory's body, checking to make sure the man really was asleep. Only an idiot took things for granted with the Silent Death. Those idiots usually didn't live long enough to reflect on their mistakes. Satisfied, he began searching the man for weapons. He carefully removed the cutlass, aware of its importance to Gregory. If he accidentally scratched it he could kiss a partnership with the man goodbye. The sword was some precious family heirloom and Gregory loved it as much as he loved his shovel. He also found a gun tucked in the waistband of his trousers and the accompanying reserve ammo strapped to his left ankle. He even found a hidden knife tucked inside his right sleeve. Christophe was all too familiar with Gregory's ways and he careful searched the cuffs of his shirt until he found the nearly invisible pins weaved into the material. With those Gregory would have been out of his handcuffs before his eyes had time to widen.
'How many weapons does he have?' Craig moved a little closer to him and Christophe smirked at the question.
'He was in a rush. Usually he has at least zree other knives 'idden on him.' Craig widened his eyes only now beginning to realize just who he'd had at his back for the better part of an hour. As if hearing his unspoken question Christophe added. 'You should see him zrow zem. I've never seen him miss his target.' Realizing what he'd said and who he'd said it too he hastily added another bit of information. 'But he doesn't like using his knives or gun unless he has no choice. He prefers his cutlass like I prefer my shovel. When you reach our level of skill you can afford to be picky.' He grinned at Craig, happy to see the tension ease slightly.
'So what now?' Christophe got to his feet and pulled Gregory's body with him, hosting it over a shoulder. Craig couldn't help noticing how the muscles worked below his loose shirt and mentally slapped himself for having those kind of thoughts then of all times.
'Now I make sure he can't get to you.' Christophe walked past the still petrified Stan into an adjacent room where a chair sat in the centre. There was nothing else in the emptied space. He dropped Gregory into the sturdy seat and brought the Brit's hands behind his back. He pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his belt and slapped them on Gregory's pliant wrists, tightening the hold to the point he knew it would be uncomfortable. He couldn't afford to give Gregory even an inch. That was all he needed...
'Do you think someone else came with him?' Craig glanced over his shoulder self-consciously, almost expecting for another assassin to materialize out of the shadows and throw a knife in his direction. Christophe was working to tie Gregory's ankles to the legs of the chair with thick vines of rope.
'I doubt it. Gregory works alone most missions, like me. For now at least we are safe.' Christophe sat up, appraising his work until he was certain even Gregory would have a hard time getting out of that chair. Nobody tied knots as securely as him. 'Zere. Zat should 'old him.'
'Are you sure?' Christophe looked at Craig and saw the small but present worry in the light eyes. He curved his fingers under Craig's chin and prayed his eyes away from the assassin so their gazes met.
'Nothing will 'appen to you while I'm 'ere. Zat is a promise.' Craig swallowed audibly and Christophe placed a chaste kiss on the eager lips. He knew his message was received loud and clear when he saw new steal in the now calm eyes.
'I trust you.' Christophe grinned, a part of him wondering why anyone in their right mind would do that. Then again, he'd already confirmed Craig was an unusual character. He was one of the strongest people he'd ever seen. He doubted he'd ever met someone who adapted so quickly to the world of a mercenary without any background in the field whatsoever. It was admirable to say the least.
'Not ze smartest decision but we shall talk about zat later. You and Stan should get some sleep because once he wakes and phase two starts you won't 'ave a chance.' Craig didn't want to know what Christophe meant by that. He could make a fairly good guess and he chose not to think about it yet.
'Alright. I'll go tell Stan. What will you do?' Christophe crossed his arms over his chest.
'I will wait 'ere. I drank too much coffee anyway and won't sleep for a while.' Craig decided not to question that either. He nodded a silent goodnight which was returned with a short wave of Christophe's hand. The mercenary was already perching a cigarette between his lips before Craig had time to close the door behind him. When he entered the other room he was startled to find Stan standing in the exact same spot he'd left him in. He resembled a statue so much Craig wouldn't have been surprised if a pigeon flew through the open window and nested on the puffball of his hat. He neared his friend cautiously, a frown knitting his eyebrows together.
'Stan? You okay dude?' Stan startled as if only then realizing he wasn't alone and turned to Craig, his eyes going wide like when he'd been caught red-handed doing something bad.
'Huh? Oh, yeah! Everything good in there?' Stan pointed to the room where Christophe and Gregory were and Craig knew whatever was bothering the other would remain a secret for now. Stan wasn't ready to discuss it so he didn't push it.
'Yep. Christophe said we should get some sleep. He'll wait for Gregory to wake up in there.' Stan hummed, his eyes misting over again for a split second before he turned his back to the door and began walking towards the other row of rooms to the left. The apartment was quite spacy and they'd turned the other two vacant rooms into bedrooms. That is to say, they brought in three beds. Both Craig and Stan had been told they'd have to spend the night in those rooms once they caught Gregory. They couldn't risk attracting any unwanted attention to the abandoned building. They'd both agreed and Stan was grateful he wouldn't be sleeping in one of the rooms alone this time. The place was creepy! If Cartman was there he would have been crying for him mom already...
'If you wake up before me, wake me too.' Craig nodded that he would.
'Same goes for you.' Stan fell more than sat in 'his' bed. He'd barely slept the bight before and waiting for an assassin to show up was nerve wrecking... He was exhausted and he knew Craig was just as tired. He could see the dark circles under his friend's eyes even in the dusty, lightless room. He watched Craig move to a bed in the next room, leaving the door between them open.
'Of course dude. I got your back.'
Okay...Now I REALLY have to read those essays before classes begin or I will look like a complete idiot. (more so than usual...XD) If u can, please leave a review so I'll feel better! XD (insert puppy eyes here)
HAVE A LOVELY DAY!
