Damon hurries down the sidewalk leading away from the American embassy. Finding an unattended van with the engine running, he jumps in. He's about to pull into the flow of traffic when suddenly a Mercedes barrels down the middle of the street.
He ducks as the van is raked with bullets and shards of glass pepper the interior.
"Sheesh!" He cautiously raises his head. Not about to wait around for more gunfire, Damon pops it into gear and careens onto the road. A beat behind, the Mercedes blows through a red light and flies after him.
Damon turns hard and slews onto Nikitskaya Street; a scenic street if he had time to look.
The Mercedes gains on Damon's vehicle. One of Klaus's men leans out the passenger side window and opens fire.
Damon ducks again as the front windshield explodes.
Angry now, Damon steps on the gas, pulls alongside the driver's side of the black car. He yanks the wheel hard, slamming the van into the Mercedes.
Klaus cocks his gun and squeezes the trigger, but the truck shakes violently, sending him crashing against his window.
Damon slaloms traffic and pulls alongside the car again.
Noticing Damon in his side-view mirror, Klaus's driver whips the steering wheel forcing the Mercedes to yaw into the van.
"Fuck!" Damon holds onto the steering wheel, holding stead. He looks ahead to see a traffic jam, total gridlock, and a sea of red brake lights. With no more room to go, Damon brakes and the van falls back.
The Mercedes slams on the brakes, the tires burning rubber. The sudden stop sends the men in the back seat asses over elbows. Klaus shoots, his errant bullets blow out the windshield of an oncoming tanker truck.
Its driver yanks the wheel hard and slams on his brakes causing his tanker to jack-knife.
Klaus watches in horror as the jack-knifed tanker truck slews uncontrollably toward them. They dive out of the Mercedes just as it crashes into the back end of the luxury car. Metal crumples, glass shatters, and tires pop.
Klaus and his cohorts come up from the smoking mayhem. He looks down the shoulder of the road where he notices Damon blow past the pile-up, pull onto an off-ramp, and disappear.
Having abandoned the van, Damon's walking down the sidewalk, trying to keep a low profile. The street is a row of nondescript hotels, one after the other, with anonymous names like The St. Regis Moscow Nikolskaya, The Radisson, and Moscow Hilton.
His hands are stuck in his pockets and his collar is raised. It's the type of coldness that reaches into his bones as if they're wide open to the icy wind. The only thing to do is keep moving, keep heading toward his destination. The sky is a rolling blanket of clouds the color of wet ash. Snow dances in the light and Damon shivers in response.
He ducks into a small pub and after ordering a glass of bourbon, he retreats into the shadows in the rear of the place. Noticing the antiquated phone booth, Damon stares at it for several minutes while sipping his drink. He catches a glimpse of a digital clock. It reads 23.59. He looks at it with grim satisfaction. He opens the door of the phone booth, slips inside, and after dropping several coins into the slot, he dials a number he hasn't used in a very long time.
"Hello?"
"Vincent, it's me."
"Damon? It's been a long time, buddy."
"It has. I need your help."
"Shoot."
"I'm here in Moscow. Esther Mikaelson has her sights set on me. There's a girl, too. I got her safely to the embassy but I need to see this through. Can we meet somewhere to talk?"
"I'll meet you at the railway station. I'll be there as soon as I can." Vincent ends the call.
Damon sighs as he puts the receiver back on its cradle and steps out of the booth. He swallows what's left of his bourbon, pulls up his collar, and walks back out into the bitter cold.
Elena settles in the room she's been given. Dressed in comfortable fleece and fuzzy socks, she glances outside. Streetlights are misty in the light snowfall. Ice gently blankets the roads and sidewalks as the snowflakes dance and prance in the cold air.
Try as she might, Elena can do nothing but think about Damon and if he's safe and warm right now? And she can't help but consider who he is, what he admitted to being, and why she's having these feelings for him?
"Elena, what are you doing?"
Her head and her heart are at war with each other and how will she resolve this dilemma?
Elena raises her eyes to see the milky cloud-covered moon hanging like an ornament in the midnight sky.
"Be safe," she whispers as she presses her palm against the cold glass...
Damon arrives at the rail station and buys a cup of coffee to warm up. The bitter cold of a Moscow night is something he hopes never to experience again. As he walks through the concourse, he's a little surprised at how busy the station is at this hour. He suspects some people are here for nothing more than to shelter themselves from the frigid night.
He notices the array of people. In a corner, there are some young people busking for money. The sound of thumping feet gets louder as a train arrives. Two men, likely drunk break out in a fight. It lasts several minutes until the police show up and arrest them.
Damon's head snaps to the side at the sound of a quiet muffled voice.
"Welcome to Moscow."
"Vincent, thank you for coming." Damon extends his arm and shakes the man's hand.
"You're a hard man to catch up with," Vincent adds, leading Damon to a quiet bench. "Wanna tell me why you're here."
"You want the long or short version?" Damon sighs, raking his fingers through his hair.
"Damon, talk."
"I was hired by Esther Mikaelson to kill a woman named Katherine Pierce. Apparently, she stole something from her. And to complicate things, Katherine Pierce has a doppelganger named Elena Gilbert. I couldn't do it, Vincent. I thought they were the same person and I couldn't kill her. Because of my inaction, Esther has me in her crosshairs. Klaus tried to kill me and Elena."
"Katherine Pierce. I know her well. She and her partner slash lover are master thieves and sell to the highest bidder. We've never been able to get enough evidence to charge her. She knows how to cover her tracks."
"Esther didn't tell me what she stole, only that she wants her dead for double-crossing her."
"She and Marcel Gerard, her partner broke into Langley and got a list of covert agents. We've been trailing her for several weeks."
"Why didn't you arrest her if you know she did it?" Damon asks as he empties his cup of coffee.
"We can't prove she did it."
"Who does she plan to sell it to?"
"Word has it that it's Greta Sienna. She and Esther Mikaelson are bitter rivals."
"I got Elena Gilbert safely inside our embassy. Make sure she stays put, will you, Vincent?"
"Yes, I'm aware of her arrival."
"Yes, she followed me. I need to find Katherine and find a way to put Esther on ice. Maybe Greta Sienna, too?"
"You can always do what you do best..." Vincent points out the obvious.
Damon brushes off his innuendo. "Look if I can find Katherine, I can get the list from her and make a deal with Esther. You could arrest her for taking possession couldn't you?"
"That's what we call entrapment, Damon."
Damon looks away, shaken. Several seconds pass before he looks up and meets Vincent's stare. "That's your job to worry about. If I get the list, I'll get in touch with you and make the arrangements for the transfer."
"You know how to reach me," Vincent adds and walks away...
Damon waits several minutes before leaving the station. He pauses at the double doors. Snow is lightly falling and it's clinging to the trees. As he steps outside, a sudden gust of wind lifts his hair and sprays snow in his eyes. He looks up at the dull gray color that tints the sky, pulls his heavy coat tighter around his body, and walks into the darkness.
Katherine watches the snow dance in a choreographed ballet conducted by the fierce wind from the window of their penthouse suite. Absently, she fingers the delicate lapis lazuli pendant that Marcel purchased for her.
Silently, she steps back into their darkened suite. Sitting on the edge of the mattress she begins pulling her Stuart Weitzman boots off and tries not to wake Marcel. Katherine makes her way to the bathroom, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Bracing her arms on the edge of the sink, she studies her reflection. Rich chocolate-colored eyes flash beneath a thick fringe of black lashes.
Her bright red lips curve into the seductive, calculating smirk as she considers the money they're about to get for turning the flash drive over to Greta Sienna. With that amount, she and Marcel will be able to disappear and start a new life. However, on the flip side is that she wonders what they'll do for entertainment after this whole thing goes down.
After a moment's thought, she smiles again, full and genuine. Such thinking is pointless, for now anyway. Besides, Katherine reasons, as she brushes out her hair, they can always return to the game if they get bored.
With a sigh, she slips out of her clothes and joins Marcel in their bed...
Darkness has a way of making Moscow feel sinister. Trees take on a menacing shape as they shiver in the bitter wind, their naked branches adorned with snow. Clusters of twigs, gnarled and twisted, extend like the very hands of old man winter, ready to catch the soft falling flakes.
Against the dark mossy trunk, the brilliant white drifts rise in soft curves and fall again to the hidden ground. Unseen eyes seem to peer out from the thick shadows, watching and waiting for the moment to strike. Innocent prey becomes vulnerable while evil predators grow stronger and bolder.
Damon watches the last dying rays of sunlight lose their battle with the dark. He's been searching hotel databases for anything that might lead him to Katherine and Marcel. On top of that, he has to convince them to help him set up a sting to nab Esther Mikaelson.
Sighing, he pours two fingers of bourbon for himself from the room's en suite bar. After taking a mouthful, he drops back into his seat and resumes his search.
For a long time, Damon peers at the computer screen, so much so that he has to rub his eyes from time to time. The moon climbs higher as evening blends into night and still, his search continues until finally, he catches a glimpse of the familiar dark hair and saucy gate entering the Hotel Aristokrat followed by who he's certain is Marcel Gerard.
Damon sighs heavily and shakes himself out of his stupor. Throwing back what's left in his glass, he glances at the room clock- 2:15 am. He should go now and confront them but he's running on fumes himself. He sets the alarm on his phone and falls back onto the mattress where it takes mere moments for him to slip into slumber.
Damon's eyes slowly flutter open. He glances at the alarm clock, which says 7:39 a.m. Getting out of bed, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes as he pads across the carpet to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later he's dressed and walking out of his hotel. Damon flags a taxi and gives the driver the address. Once inside, he palms his gun through his coat as the vehicle merges into traffic.
"Thanks," Damon pays the man and walks into the hotel. He goes directly to the front desk and signals the manager with his eyes.
The man comes over to him.
"Have you seen this woman?" Damon asks, flashing a fake badge at him.
"Sir, that information is confidential. We maintain our customer's privacy."
"If you won't help me, please get the manager. Interpol wants this woman. She is a suspect in several murders. So unless you want me to have the police storm your hotel, I suggest you give me the information I need."
Not wanting any trouble, the man says nothing as he steps back. He types a few keys and then reaches for a business card. He jots a number on the back of it before running a keycard through the scanner and handing them to Damon.
"Thank you." Damon nods and scans the hotel lobby for the elevator. Stepping in, he's about to push the button when several people enter and begin pushing their floors as the doors begin to slide closed.
I apologize for the delay. Have been really busy. Huge thanks again. You're all the best.
Thank you, Eva. Love you. Thank you, Elena.
Chapter title: 'Welcome to the Jungle' by Guns n Roses. Coincidentally we do have a story with the same name. ;)
I'm not a wrestling fan. I don't watch it. If by chance any of you like Roman Reigns in WWE, a friend of mine started a story. BelleReigns25 is her username.
Have a terrific day.