Chapter Three: Scars
Sam ran her pale hand over the scar on Danny's side. "How'd this one happen?" Her voice low and soft.
"An idiot brought a knife to a gunfight. He died not long after." Her hand moved down to the scar on Danny's outer left thigh.
"And this one?"
"I was the idiot this time; it was actually during one of my earliest missions. I was in Belgium, trying to take down the next Hitler wannabe, a man named Varden. One of his large goons decided I'd make good target practice. Spent four hours in the hospital before I went back to finish my mission."
Sam didn't blink, tried not to think about all the people Danny had killed. In the end, she couldn't help it.
"Danny, how many people?" Danny rolled over to face her.
"What?"
"How many have you…how many died?"
"I didn't keep count. I went in, did my mission, and got out. They were all evil, Sam."
"So you've never killed an innocent?" Danny closed his eyes.
"Only one."
The phone was ringing, two complete rings before Danny snapped it open.
"Yes?"
"Walker will be having lunch today at Little Joe's Deli. Bring him down."
"Mission accepted."
Danny replaced his blood soaked white shirt and grabbed his white leather trench coat then holstered his Walther P99, loaded with only one magazine. He strapped a Bowie knife to his right thigh. And on his left thigh, right above the scar Sam had stroked only a few hours before, he sheathed his 498, a Marine combat knife.
Danny was ready for the fight.
Walker sat with his back facing the kitchen, his eyes scanning the street in front of the Deli. With the recent takedowns most of his goons had left, but Walker was a proud man, and wouldn't hide, even if he was alone.
But those who do not hide, die. Danny knew that well. Walking straight to the table where Walker sat, he settled down across from him.
"Hello Walker."
"Who the hell are you?" Walker's blank eyes searched Danny's face, trying to jog his memory.
"Don't recognize me? I suppose not, we've never met. But I do look like my father."
"Your father?" Walker asked before his eyes widened. "Jack Fenton?" Danny nodded.
"A decade ago, you killed my family. You killed my father. You killed my mother. You killed my sister. But you didn't kill me." Walker didn't blink.
"You didn't kill me, Walker, and that's going to be your downfall. You die today, by my hands, and the Ghosts are gone, forever."
Walker sat back in his seat. "You killed Masters?" Danny nodded. "And Bullet and Skulker?" Danny nodded his head once.
"I killed them, and I've killed more."
"Who are you, kid?"
"I am the phantom amongst ghosts. I do not exist according to the United States military. I am an assassin, a killer, and most importantly, I am your end."
Walker was scared, but he was damned if he was going to let this little military punk know it.
"Fine. Prove it."
Danny drew his 498, holding it comfortably in his left hand under the table. Walker was staring at him, waiting for him to move.
"Stand up, Walker." Walker sat still for a moment before complying. Walker drew his own weapon, a Beretta F9, and fired at Danny. Danny quickly ducked under the table, moving under it and throwing it back as he lunged upwards at Walker.
His knife plunging into the flesh of Walker's throat, narrowly missing his jugular. Danny cursed once before diving around Walker and pulling his P99 from its holster. Diving from Walker's bullets he aimed and fired back, hitting Walker once in the shoulder, making his arm fall limp.
As Walker's gun fell to the floor with a loud clang, Danny jumped. The knife pushing against the side of Walker's face.
"I wanted this to be messy." Danny spat as Walker sunk to his knees in front of him.
Moving quickly, Danny slit Walker's throat, watching as his blood pumped from his body. Walker died as blood burbled out of his mouth, coating Danny's shoes with the sticky life force.
Danny ran from the deli as the deli owner, who had been hiding behind the counter, called the police. He was long gone as the sirens pulled in.
"Holy fuck." The first officer to arrive stated before turning to the Deli owner. "You see who did this?"
"Angel of Death." the man was clearly shaken and spoke in broken English, often stopping to curse in Hebrew.
Danny's phone rang as he rounded the corner.
"Yes?"
"Mission Complete." Then a dial tone. Danny cursed as he threw the cell phone into a dumpster.
Heading back to Tucker's bar, he sat down, ordering his usual, downing it before asking for another.
"What happened to you, man?" Tucker asked, concerned for his friend.
"I'll tell you later." Danny wobbled a bit as he stood up. "Hey, you still have some spare clothes of mine in your apartment?"
"Sure do. Feel free to use the shower, too. You're kind of scaring my customers."
Danny looked down at himself, his once white clothes stained crimson. He looked back at
Tucker. "Shit."
"You really need to look in the mirror."
Danny headed upstairs, passing Sam on the way up. She gasped before asking the required question.
"Mission accomplished?"
"Mission complete." Danny relaxed. "I need a shower, care to join me?" Sam shook her head.
"I have to work, Danny. But feel free to wait for me in my place, there's some vegetarian lasagna in the fridge; just heat it in the microwave."
"Thanks." He said, but resigned from kissing her.
Finding his old clothes in the back of Tucker's closet, which was littered with ancient electronic devices, Danny found his way into the bathroom.
Looking into the mirror, Danny blinked. His clothes were not the only things covered in blood. His face, his hands, every part of him was stained with blood, not all of it his.
He took a long shower, still scrubbing at his face long after the water had gotten cold. After stepping from the shower, he poured bleach down the drain, if the cops even attempted to find him, they wouldn't find Walker's blood here.
Dressing in a pair of dark blue jeans and pulling on a white shirt with a red logo, he stepped out of Tucker's apartment and across the hall to Sam's.
Sam was sitting in her small kitchenette, sipping from a cup of coffee.
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you in something besides white, angel."
"They're from high school; I'm just surprised they still fit." Danny shrugged. "Oh well, they're comfortable."
Silence for a few moments, before Sam spoke.
"Want to tell me about it?"
"Not much to tell, it's all over. The Ghosts are gone. Mission Complete."
"The world will always need heroes, Danny."
"I'm not a hero, Sam. I'm a murderer. A cold blooded killer."
"You weren't cold last night." Sam sighed. "What are you going to do now, Danny? Wait for more mysterious missions to come your way? You've got your revenge, now it's time to live for yourself."
"What do you want me to do, Sam?"
"I don't know. You're only twenty-four. You could always go to school, become a private investigator or teach self-defense to little old ladies. I don't care. I just don't want to lose you."
Danny knelt down in front of Sam. "I can't promise you that, Sam. In less than a week I took fifteen men's lives. In seven years there has been almost a hundred. I'm not a normal man. You'd be better off with Tucker."
Sam snorted, "Tucker's like my brother. And I don't want a normal man. I want you, Danny, just you. I don't care about your past, I care about our future."
Danny looked down at his feet. "I love you, Sam."
Sam tilted his head up to look at her. "I love you too, Danny."
Tucker sighed looking down at the newspaper. The headline on the very first page read 'Unknown Assailant Brings Down Ghosts'. That, however, wasn't why Tucker was sighing. In the classified section of the newspaper, under legal notices, was the justice of the peace ceremony that had bonded his two best friends.
"Good luck, guys."
End A/N: Hope you guys liked it. I was trying to mix action with romance. Hope it wasn't to bloody or graphic. Thanks for reading.
