Disclaimer: Don't own, please don't sue.
Author's note/Feedback: Yes, Please. I love the feedback. And thanks a lot for sticking with me through all this. There are not so many chapters left now. First we are going to get some action, then Vincent and Sarah have some unfinished business – and some trust issues – to deal with.
And this chapter hasn't been betad, so if you find anything weird in it, typos and stuff, please let me know.
Love/Nicolina.
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Chapter 15 Survival Strategies
They sat in silence as the taxi sped through the dense late afternoon traffic. Sarah was nervous and fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She didn't know what to expect. All the time, she kept glancing at the man sitting next to her.
The stranger.
Vincent had, rather harshly, pulled her with him out on the street, hailed a cab and pushed her inside before he jumped in himself. He'd brought his bag, and had been assembling a weapon quietly in his lap, out of sight for the driver. Now he held the gun loosely with one hand and rummaged around for clips with the other, stuffing several in his pockets. He checked something on a small computer before stuffing it back into the bag.
Finally he went still, the gun with the attached silencer resting on his thigh. He sat straight and looked out the front without moving a muscle. Yet he seemed tensed, ready for action.
Fascinated and full of dread, she had followed his silent and thorough preparations. Sarah shuddered; she had begun to recognize the pattern. Before he'd strike, he always seemed to calm down, to focus; not wasting energy on unnecessary talking or movements.
Looking at his watch, and then out at the street, he turned to her.
"When we get there, you do what I tell you and when I tell you. Stay a few paces behind me and out of my way."
Sarah swallowed hard and nodded. "I will."
She realized he had brought her to the showdown.
'I intend to free you of the contract.' Shaking with fear, she knew instinctively what was about to happen. Her consciousness just hadn't caught up yet. There was no way she could grasp that they were on their way to find the person, or persons, that had signed Vincent up to kill her. She still had no clue what so ever to why someone wanted her dead.
I'm already fucking dying any way!
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One of the main reasons why Vincent was such a successful assassin was that he never hesitated. He never wanted to talk, explain or brag, there were no chances of bribing or flirting or in any other way try to squirm out of sight from his barrel.
Most of his victims never even saw the gun, and were dead before their bodies hit the ground.
Another reason was of course that he was a perfect gun-man, one with his weapon; his bullets always hit exactly were he aimed.
Which brought him to the fact that he HAD missed Sarah… She'd had the time to dodge.
That… never happens…
The only explanation he could think of was that he HAD recognized her, subconsciously, and that he DID hesitate that little fragment of a second she'd needed to dodge and hide.
He couldn't help wondering where he would've been now if she hadn't dodged. That wasn't a difficult question. He'd be - probably this very evening - meeting with his next set of hits…
Well, I'm not, and this is much more fun!
The adrenaline surged through his body, his senses heightened.
He felt alive.
Expanding his lungs with a deep breath and letting it out again, he cleared his mind and focused on his task.
This was what he did the best.
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When the taxi finally stopped in front of a warehouse down at the harbor, Sarah's nervousness peaked. Feeling like she needed to perform an impossible task, without even knowing what was expected from her, she stumbled in Vincent's footsteps as he determinedly strode forwards. He had tucked the gun in under his jacket, taken his bag and paid off the taxi driver.
They rounded a corner and stood in front of an anonymous entrance in what looked like an abandoned building. Vincent pulled out his gun and unsecured it as he kept walking, she heard the little click. Sarah's knees felt like jelly, but she stayed a few steps behind, just like he'd said. He seemed to know exactly where he was going.
He's been here before! That's what he was doing when he was gone: he's been checking this place up.
Somewhere in the distance a blow from a ships horn was heard and a seagull was saluting in the sky.
Vincent opened the door and shot the guard inside with three shots. Poff-poff. Poff. Sarah jerked from the shock and covered her mouth, preventing the scream that wanted to escape. Vincent had already moved forward. Dropping his bag in a corner of the foyer as he went, she still had to keep up her pace to stay in his tracks.
In the stairs to the second floor, they met another man. He began fumbling with his pockets - poff-poff-poff - his lifeless body hit the floor before he even had a fair chance.
Sarah had to press herself to the wall to avoid him as he came rolling past her. Her eyes filled with tears, and she needed to throw up. Half blind, she almost bumped into the back of Vincent, as he had stopped by a corner. He gave her an irritated glance and turned away again. The look in his eyes made her shiver; he didn't need his gun, just that look from him would be sufficient.
Deadly.
Vincent sunk down on one knee, gun ready, and peeked around the corner. Then he continued through the length of the corridor.
Sarah snuck behind him on shaky legs, three - four paces, like he'd said.
There were voices coming from a room further down the hallway, Vincent was quietly testing out each door they passed as they advanced. Most were locked, one opened, and he silently pushed it open all the way with a raised gun, but the room was black and apparently empty.
Intellectually, Sarah knew what was happening, but emotionally she was unable to grasp the situation. She lacked the experience to handle it, not knowing where she'd stash the information her brain received as she saw Vincent kill those two men. He frightened her to no end. She had thought he had changed somehow, because he'd told her he wouldn't kill her. Now she had to accept that she really didn't know him at all, that this was probably the "true" Vincent.
If there is such a thing.
Her heart sped up alarmingly as they stood outside the closed door. Vincent was still for a moment, seemingly listening, calculating. Sarah didn't move a muscle.
Before any of them could move, the door suddenly flung open and a tall, laughing man exited. As he saw Vincent, his mouth formed an "O", before he sunk to the floor. Poff. Poff-poff. Vincent threw himself through the open door and to the left.
Sarah lost sight of him and had no intention of looking. She heard men screaming and gunfire. Scrambling on her hands and knees over the floor, she lay down and covered her head with her hands, just on the other side of the wall, trembling, unable to move, or to even breathe. Every gunshot reverberated violently through her body. She couldn't hear Vincent firing at all; the only thing that was heard was the loud bangs from other weapons.
What am I doing here? Why did I insist? She regretted the last thing terribly now. All was lost.
Realizing it had gone quiet; she slowly lifted her head, but saw only the dirty window at the end of the corridor.
Then she heard voices.
Calm voices.
He's dead! I'm dea-
"SARAH!" His voice was frighteningly sharp and with a dangerous edge she hadn't heard before. It made her immediately stand up, as if on command. There was no way she wasn't going to obey.
Afraid of what would meet her, and even afraid of that voice, she carefully took two steps forward, willing her feet to move. Stumbling through the open door, she gasped and put her hand over her mouth in shock. First she saw the bodies; there were three of them, splayed in various positions on the floor. Then she saw the blood, some splattered over the walls and the widening pools by the bodies. It looked like butchery.
Vincent was standing at the far end of the room, holding his gun to the head of a fat man who sat by a desk. Sarah recognized him vaguely, but was unable to put two and two together at the moment, being in a state of shock over the turn of events as she was. This was not her reality. Things like this didn't happen.
Not to her.
O, but they do...a small, mean voice in the back of her head kept saying.
You bring them on, Sarah; you bring misery and death in your tracks.
"Sarah," Vincent said through clenched teeth. "Meet Joe Angelo."
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