"Who are you?" the older agent uttered, pulling the safety of his gun off. The nuzzle of the gun placed squarely against blonde locks. the sound roused the woman from sleep. Bedelia stilled, awfully familiar with the sensation of a gun pushed against her skull rather sharply.
"Will!" Abigail called beside the patient, waking him immediately. The distress in the young girl's voice alarming. His eyes followed the teen's gaze and saw Jack moving slightly closer to his bed. The agent gave an angered glance at Abigail, before bellowing an alarm for back up.
"Jack, back down. She's a . . . She's a friend." Wills was unsure of what to call their relationship, acquaintances? A partner in crime? A fellow victim? This unstable nature only supported by a singular thought 'Hannibal trusts her.' And that was all his assurance in this situation, even if their last interaction wasn't so favorable.
"And you let her in?!" Jack replied outraged by the reckless nature of his employer.
"She isn't dangerous." The millionaire lied in between his teeth. He knew and saw first-hand the capabilities of the woman. Bedelia rolled her eyes, unfazed by the gun, but remained resigned.
"Your gravely injured." Jack uttered, moving a step back, releasing the sharp contact of the nuzzle on the follicles of the woman's head. While circling slowly to Will's side. The bodyguards that came as Jack's aids witnessed the tension and pulled their own weapons out. One at the teen's direction, whilst the other pointed it at the older woman's direction as well.
"I have a concussion." Will rebuttals, as he glanced at a relatively frightened Abigail. Even with all the events and her being surrounded by assassins for most of her life, she is still unused to the linger threat of death. The possibility of each day being her last slowly sinking in a displeasing manner of self-reflection. 'Maybe if I never asked about mom in the first place, this would have never have happened.' Thoughts passing with regrets, killing her curiosity and her yearn for her biological identity.
"Again, injured." Jack bit back.
"Not gravely!
"Your acting like this isn't a big deal!"
"Because this isn't a big deal!"
"They weren't detected by the guards outside and, in the security cameras! Don't be stupid in trusting these people!" Jack replied, voice raising an octave. As he glances between the two women in the room.
"Leave! Both of you out!" The agent uttered; eyes still focused on the intruders.
"That wouldn't be wise Agent Crowford." Bedelia replied in a calm manner, befitting a person of high prestige.
"How do you know my name?"
"I know everything about you, up until this point In your life. . . You have an exemplary resumé. With a lot of former unwanted habits. You aren't as picture perfect as your record says." A hidden threat combed in between the information. Tranquil in manner, but heated in threat, and everyone in the room was aware of the underlying secrets about to upheaval.
"Shut up!" The statement pulled a string in his objectivity. In all his years as a protective agent, this was the first time his hands shook out of sheer emotional bias. Jack could do nothing but repeat the statement, more to himself than anyone in the room.
"Your wife is quite beautiful, Phyllis was it?" Statement lit the wick of Jack's anger.
"Jack, put down the gun." Will pleading this time, slowly arising from his bed, and reaching for the gun that is still pointed at the woman. Jack's index finger twitched at the prospect of pressing the trigger.
"Please don't!" A meek voice surfaced from a wide-eyed Abigail. But her pleas were fundamentally void, as Jack never lowered his stance, even in his wavering hands.
"This isn't the first time someone pointed a gun at me." Bedelia said passively, contemplating her fate. To be shot to death by a righteous man, such a rarity in her field of work. Maybe it was karma or the concept of vengeful spirits putting her on the track of demise. A part of her humored the imagery of Hannibal being the devil to her Faust, especially since the assassin was quite fond of classics.
"Jack!" Will spoke in a warning tone, gripping the older man's arm tighter.
"I have information that would keep your employer safe. And I know who put the hit on him, that incident in your office is just a taste of what's to come. And I suggest we move to a safer location; this hospital is compromised. If I can enter without aid, so can the people after the boy's life." Bedelia uttered, remembering her goal after her lamentation.
"How can I trust you?" Jack asked, his disbelief at the tranquil state of the woman, even at the threat of death was unnerving.
"You can't, and I can't trust you and the people around you. All I can do is trust Will. . . Because Hannibal won't be very happy with me and Abigail dead."
"Will. . ." Jack, said passively when he heard the name of the previous bodyguard be uttered.
"Trust me." The millionaire pleaded once again; tension still palpable. Jack glanced at the younger man, and took in the silent confidence.
"Ok. . . lower your weapons." The older man announced slowly, the two fellow agents, slowly lowering their guns. Before one of them fired off a round into the blonde's direction. Bedelia instinctively moved to dodge the round, but it was too late. The bullet rammed its way through tender skin and hit the femur. The trajectory being decisively low to cast any serious injury, but inflict enough pain to a rather worn woman. The familiar but excruciating pain of the small metal round, made the woman groan, as blood started to pour in a hurried manner. Her injuries from the previous frey still not fully healed.
"Fuck!" Jack swore, as he tackled the guard that had triggered the shot, pinning him down and away from his gun.
"Please call a doctor!" Abigail, ran towards the older woman. The teen immediately added pressure to the wound, trying to make the crimson liquid stop from flowing out.
The moon hung high as a distinct darkness caped over the room. The sound of walking every one in a while passing through the window. All of which was unfamiliar, as her usual forms of medical treatment were botched or self-applied aid. She was fortunate to an extent to have Hannibal as her charge in her time as a handler. His medical skills have proven invaluable in many occasions, sewing her back up and treating her to a good bottle of thirty-year-old scotch. But the strain of today's events was too much even to a seasoned and relatively adaptable individual like herself.
"Its about time you make your appearance." Bedelia muttered into the phone, there was something off about the room she was currently residing in. It was . . . Stale. Her senses telling her to leave, as if a bounding anxiety was present. A cacophony of rustles and dull bangs were heard by the injured woman, making her slightly curious at the sudden silence before a voice finally replied
"What happened?" The assassin uttered, slightly aggravated at his current situation. Bedelia had an inkling of it, and continued without concern. Acting as she had been when she was still a handler.
"Simply put, I was shot." Bedelia uttered passively, like announcing the most mundane of activities. She waited for the other to reply, and receiving a grunt from a different voice at the other end of the call, after hearing an echo of heavy metal clunking against something softly textured.
"And I can confirm that your dear sister is already on the move to either silence me, kill your daughter or kill your beloved curly haired American. I should remind you that I am not a disposable pawn that can be used at any time. You have been accumulating a number of favors." The ex-handler continued, as she listened in the other's response.
" I understand." An out of breath Hannibal replied, as a familiar sound of choking is audible, before a snap and disgusting crunch followed.
". . . You should have told me about Tobias Budge before you left."
"I apologize. It wasn't my intention to withhold information from you. I just anticipated that you would have known from the start." Hannibal replied, as he slammed another man against a dining table. And piercing the assailant's eyes with a fork that was within his reach.
"Don't aggravate me right now, even morphine cannot dull the incoming migraine I get every time something is related to you." Bedelia muttered, as she followed in the dramatic sounds she received.
"I want to change our deal. I want you to keep me alive in exchange for the favor you owe me regarding Tobias." She added, as a crisp snap of bone echoed.
"Understood. I would be there as fast as I can."
"Very well. . . But I must inform you. Jack Crowford is demanding an explanation, and I expect you to deal with it." Bedelia ended the call, not wanting to hear the grotesque disembodied voices that followed the scene around the assassin.
"Of course." The assassin muttered, as he slammed the sixth assailant of the night against the end of the table, and silencing his screams with a swift elbowing of a C vertebrae.
In the monitoring center, Jack Crowford listened in on the conversation. The agent was trying to piece together the situation. But was throughly confused as the missing players of the event are still a mystery. All he knew was that the center of all this mess was Hannibal Lecter.