Note: Sorry about the incredibly long delay once more, but thank you once again for your patience. I was very busy all summer with songwriting, but now I should hopefully be able to be consistent with updates.

—Darkest Days—

by: Glass Angel

CHAPTER IV

Samus stared up at the cord with wide eyes.

He's. . .going to hang me. . .oh God. . .it can't be—

She felt so helpless; if she tried to knock herself to the ground, she'd only hang herself now—her captor seemed to have a good hold on the cord, and it was almost tied on completely. She was lying on her stomach with her head facing away from the man, so she still couldn't get a good look at his face.

Samus didn't care, however; she had a pretty good idea of who it was.

She watched the killer out of the corner of her eye as he looped the cord around the hook meant for lights on the ceiling as if he did so every day, although the thick black gloves he wore slowed him a little. She eyed the gun to her side and blinked in revelation. Samus turned and knocked the gun off the box, making it clatter to the floor. The killer glanced down at it sharply, already alert for intruders. Samus kneed her captor as hard as he could, sending him sprawling to the floor with a grunt. He immediately leapt to his feet and knocked the boxes out from underneath her. The cord tangled around Samus's hands behind her back just as she had planned—now holding herself up from certain death. The murderer cursed under his breath and lunged at her, but she sent him to the floor once more with another hard blow, this time to the face. The force of the kick sent Samus spinning in place, and her arm muscles burned at the strain.

Samus saw the killer cover his face with his hand, glaring at the helpless bounty hunter in frustration. He reached down and picked up the forgotten gun, immediately firing a shot at Samus. The bullet pierced the cord and entered her chest, slamming her against the wall with bone-cracking force. She shreiked in pain as she hit the ground with a dead thud, but didn't get the chance to recover as another bullet was sent into her shoulder. Another scream escaped Samus's throat. She breathed heavily, limbs sprawled limply about her, nearly unable to breath. A black leather boot came into her view, causing a puddle of blood to ripple in disturbance. The boot steadily began to disappear in darkness, and the floor seemed to be spinning beneath her beaten body.

God . . . just let me see the bastard's face . . . before I . . . die . . .

But all that she could see was darkness before a cold unconciousness overtook her.

* * *

Cold. . . nothing but cold. . . always. . . why am I not surprised. . .

. . .

. . . what? . . . bedsheets?

Samus's eyes fluttered open, surprised. She wasn't in Heaven, Hell, or any other place like that—she was in her own bed. She sat up quickly and stared down at the sheets as if she had never seen a bed before, then cringed in pain and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't sit up so fast. You don't want to hurt yourself."

Samus's head whipped up toward the direction of the all-too-familiar voice. There he was, sitting on a chair in the corner, watching her—Talon.

"You bastard!!!" Samus immediately felt around underneath her pillow for her gun without taking her eyes off the dark bounty hunter, but felt nothing but the sheets.

"Looking for this?" Talon held up the small silver handgun. "I took it out from under your pillow so you wouldn't set it off while you were sleeping. You do realize the safety catch is off, right?"

Samus glared at him fiercely. "How the hell do you have the nerve to still be here after trying to kill me???!!" She demanded.

Talon blinked in surprise. "Excuse me? Try to kill you?"

"Don't you dare try that half-ass 'innocence' act, Talon," Samus countered, "because I sure as hell won't buy it."

"Now what makes you think that was me who tried to kill you last night?" Talon questioned, slightly affronted.

"The man last night tried to kill me the exact same way you always kill other people," she accused, "and why the hell else would you think to come to my house that just happened to be the night I was nearly killed!?!"

"Because," Talon replied impatiently, "you've had someone break and enter your house nearly every night recently, with the killer getting closer and closer to you every time. Even an idiot would know he would try to kill you fairly soon, so I decided to stop by and see if you were all right. It's what anyone in my position would do. And also, we all kill people the same way, so I wouldn't pin that on me immediately."

Samus blinked. "What do you mean by that? 'We all'?"

Talon paused, realizing his mistake. "I just used to be apart of a certain bounty hunters' guild, that's all." He shrugged offhandedly. "It was just a style of killing that we used. The hanging part, at least; it was kind of like our calling card. I don't know exactly who this guy is, but I'll search some records and find out as much as I can about him."

"Why are you doing all this for me?" Samus eyed him, still not fully convinced. Talon stood up. "Just one bounty hunter helping another. I'll be in your den looking up information on my computer. Oh, by the way," he stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder with a small smile, "I cleaned up the mess in there for you." He left the room with a swish of his long leather trenchcoat.

Samus watched him leave with a quick flash of black, dumbed into silence and confused. The age-old question came to her once more—who exactly was this guy? He obviously wasn't telling her everything, that was for sure. There was definitely more to this dark bounty hunter than a pleasant face and a fetish for death.

A cold chill swept over her, and she pulled the sheets around her shoulders.

Was he really telling the truth. . .

. . . or was he the one who tried to kill her?

. . .

Either way, he was a really good liar.

* * *

Talon entered Samus's room silently, a styrofoam box in his hands. Samus looked up from her bed, her silver gun in one hand and a polishing cloth in the other.

"I'm back," Talon greeted, stopping at the bedside and holding the box to her. "Seeing as even I don't enjoy my own cooking, I just picked up something from the bar." Samus accepted the box and lifted the top. Scalltops, fried.

"You know, I've never been a fan of seafood," she replied. Talon chuckled.

"You are never satisfied," he countered. "I get the feeling that you'll say you dislike everything I give to you on purpose." He move a stray black lock from his face and eyed her with a sly smile.

"I guess you just never know with me." Samus studied the fish on her lap thoughtfully. She looked back up at Talon, who averted his eyes and turned his head to the window.

"You've been here for a few days now, and the bastard hasn't returned yet. It makes me a little suspiscious." Talon's attention turned to her at the sound of the cool accusation in surprise.

"You still think it was me?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows but still speaking in a calm manner. "Tell me, if you do think it was me, then why are you letting me stay here while you are currently. . . incapacitated at the moment? Wouldn't that give me an even greater advantage to kill you while you're handicapped?"

"If need be, I can move just fine if someone is going to kill me. It's not like my leg or arm is broken." Samus didn't even know herself why she didn't just tell him to leave, but he wasn't answering all of her question. "And stop avoiding my questions. Why hasn't he returned yet?"

Talon was silent for a moment; he seemed to be thinking. "He and I did come across one another when I found you unconcious that night. We got into a brief scuffle before he ran off. He might suspect that I'm still here and stay away until I've left."

"It's logical, but I don't know if I quite buy it yet." Samus eyed him, growing serious.

Talon's smile disappeared for a moment, then returned just as quickly as it had gone.

"Believe what you want, then." He stood up from the chair he had a habit of sitting in and left the room without another look. Samus watched the door close and looked down at the food in her lap. It was beginning to grow cold, and didn't look too appetizing anymore, for whatever the reason. She closed the carton and tossed it in the trash can across the room.

* * *

"Samus. . .? Samus, wake up."

Samus's eyes opened sleepily, and all she could see for a moment was a black blur in front of her. Her eyes focused, and she saw Talon leaning over her bed, with something dark strewn across his left eye. She immediately sat up.

". . . Talon? What happened?"

"I found the guy we're looking for," he replied, wiping some of the blood away from the laceration above his eye. "Or rather, he found me." His face was dark and serious, almost a complete contrast from the sly friendliness he usually used around her. He looked very angry as well. The expression on his face indimidated her slightly, and she ignored another chill.

"Do you know where he is?" Samus asked, climbing out of bed.

Talon nodded, going to the door so she could change in privacy. "Get ready quickly; we need to get rid of this one fast." The tone of his voice was enough of a hint to show that he meant what he said.

Samus nodded and changed into a pair of dark jeans and a long-sleeved marroon shirt, then pulled on her boots. Grabbing her gun, she left her room and followed Talon out.

Now, Talon. . . let's see just how you're going to stage this one.