"How you doing?" the gunman asked the two of them.
Lizzie stared at the man as Hans slowly removed his hand from her mouth. Suddenly, he dragged her backwards, panting loudly. He pulled her down to the floor as he gave a strangely grunted "Oh!"
"Oh, God, please, no!"
She nearly snorted at his sudden American accent, but his tight grip on her wrist held back any laughter.
"You're one of them, aren't you? You're one of them! Oh, no, no!" Hans pleaded to the man before them.
Lizzie tried not to wince at how tightly Hans gripped her, sending a silent warning. She pleaded to the man with her, trying to play along with Hans' performance. The man before then was sweaty, exhausted, yet charismatic. He had this immediate charm to him, despite not having said anything.
"No,no, don't kill us! Please! Don't-!"
"Whoa, relax, relax. I'm not gonna hurt you! I'm not gonna hurt you!"
Hans stopped panicking and pretended to lower his head in relief. Mozzie kept her eyes on the gunman, knowing full well who he was.
The gunman turned his head, looking around and asked, "The hell are you diing up here?"
Hans stuttered with his words as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "I-I managed to get outta there and...I was gonna signal for help! I was gonna get up on the roof!"
He quickly got up with his hand still wrapped around Lizzie's wrist. "Here, look!"
The gunman shook his head before Hans could get them far. "Forget the roof! They've got people all over here. You want to stay alive? You stick with me."
He motioned for them to follow as Hans frowned. He yanked Lizzie close and hissed in her ear. "Play along or I'll throw you off the roof when I finish him."
They followed the gunman who turned his head over his shoulder to glance at them. "Who the hell is she? Doesn't look dressed for this gig they're having here."
Lizzie was silent for a moment, unsure if Hans should be the only one talking or if she should answer. Gulping, she gave a quiet reply.
"I got out of the room where they were holding me. Ran into this guy. Lucky me."
Lucky, indeed. The gunman gave a chuckle at that. "Lucky."
They reached a large room with elevators and a desk. On one wall was a marble block with several names and floor numbers. The gunman gave a tired exhale as he reached into his pocket for something. Hans held Lizzie close as he scanned the room.
"You smoke?"
Hans faced the gunman, and gave a fake chuckle. "Yeah."
He handed him the pack of cigars with his bloody and sweaty hand. Hans' perfectly groomed and clean hand took one cigar out of he pack. The gunman raised his eyebrows at Lizzie, holding the pack out to her. Without thinking of anything to say, she took one and put it in her pocket.
"Trying to quit or something?" the gunman asked, lighting his own cigar.
"Yeah," she replied, quietly.
She didn't even smoke. Her heart began racing as the two men stood, smoking in silence. Lizzie tried to think if a way to warn Roy Rodgers. It had to be him.
"So...you don't work for Nakatomi," Hans began in his American accent, "And you're not one of them..."
Roy gave a puff and replied, "I'm a cop from New York."
Hans couldn't believe it but maintained his facade. "New York?"
Roy nodded and glanced at the floor. Lizzie had just noticed he was barefoot.
"Got invited to the Christmas party by mistake. Who knew?"
The two men shared a chuckle and puffed their cigars. Lizzie felt like she was going to be sick. A bead of sweat made its way across her scalp and through her hair.
"I'm John McClane," Roy said, glancing at Lizzie.
She stared at him.
"You're uh.." John asked, turning back to Hans.
"Clay. Bill Clay."
He gave a devious yet friendly smile, making Lizzie want to shiver. John looked back at Lizzie and gave her a nod. "How 'bout you?"
Fake name or real name?
"Lizzie."
John kept his same smile as he reached for his belt and pulled out a handgun. Her blood turned cold. "Know how to use a handgun, Bill?"
Hans eyed the gun, shocked at the lucky opportunity. He hid his excitement with a nod. "Spent a weekend at a combat ranch. You know, the ones that'll shoot red paint at you?"
Giving the gun a quick load, he handed the German the gun. "Well, time for the real thing, Bill."
The German held out his hand and gently took the gun. Lizzie lifted her head up and tensed, "You got another?"
Chuckling, John shook his head and walked ahead of them. "You got a perfectly good man watching you, Liz."
I know. I know, John.
"All you gotta do is pull the trigger. Stay close," John told them both.
Hans put his arm around her neck, making her gasp. John stopped in his tracks as Hans muttered something German into his radio.
"Put the gun down. Now," Hans ordered, aiming his gun at John.
Slowly, John turned, not looking the least bit surprised. He looked amused, in fact. Lizzie held her breath as the man just stood there.
"Well, well, well. Hans."
"Give me my detonators," Hans said, calmly.
Yelling would have made Lizzie a little less scared. But Hans talking like a gentleman made her ready to piss herself. John took a step towards them, keeping his gun in his hands.
"You oughtta be on TV with that accent," John commented, dryly.
Hans said nothing, keeping his arm held out with the gun. Eyes steady and breathing calm.
"What do you want with the detonators, Hans? I already used all the explosives. Or did I?" John asked, raising his sweaty eyebrows.
His bare feet squeaked on the cold, marbkr flooring. Lizzie stood completely still as Hans gave an impatient sigh. "I'm going to count to three."
"Yeah, like you did with Takagi?"
Lizzie winced at the sound of the gun clicking. John smirked. "Oops."
As if doing it once wasn't sufficient, Hans clicked it several more times. Now it was John's turn to grow impatient. "No bullets. You think I'm stupid, Hans?"
An elevator ding made them all turn. More Germans. John rushed out of sight as shots were fired as soon as the elevator doors opened. Hans eyed his goons proudly, giving Lizzie a chance. The goons had all poured out to go after John, as she pulled away from Hans' hold. She hurried for the elevator as it started to close its doors.
John made it into a large office with desks and glass walls. Firing back, he found cover behind a desk and winced at the loud guns firing. Glass shattered everywhere, making him duck. Lizzie's screams came from the other room, making him shoot his head up.
"Shit. Liz."
Hans had grabbed her by her ponytail and attempted to pull her out of the elevator. She tried to ignore the pain as she struggled to stay inside. The doors closed and reopened when they felt Hans standing at the entrance. She gripped a handlebar inside the elevator while her head was being yanked back. The pain went away as Hans released and stepped inside the elevator with her.
She slumped down as her hat fell off. Hans knelt down in front of her, grabbing her neck with his large hand. "You will stay here. Or I will kill you."
The doors closed with the both of them still inside. Hans loosened his tie a bit as he leaned in closer to her, speaking in a low voice, "Keep still. I only want...a taste."
Lizzie already knew what he meant when the hand at her neck moved to her head, and through her hair. Then, it slipped to the back of her neck, holding her head steady. She was shaking, and Hans just seemed to eat it up. His large nose pressed against her check as he inhaled her scent. Lizzie tried not to cry.
Don't let him win. Don't cry, damn it.
His other hand placed itself on her thigh and squeezed.
"What do you feel...when I.."
"GET OFF-"
His hand went over her mouth, and he exhaled in frustration at her muffled screams. "Very well. I had hoped to be civil."
Author's Note: Hey, everybody! So sorry for taking so long to update this story. I have only seen Die Hard like twice, so it's hard to follow the dialogue and pacing and story very well. Plus, life has taken a lot of my time. And, I wasn't really sure what direction to take the story after my last update oops BUT I have a better vision of what I want now so I'll keep this story going! And I want to keep this as Lizzie's story as much as possible so apologize if I follow the film too closely sometimes.