xXfigxXD: She seemed too strong-willed to get pushed around that easy, so I made her lose her temper. It's fun :D And as for the Eagle Vision... that's for me to know and you to find out ;)
Ginger Katt: Honestly, I love being bothered, don't be polite about it :D Oh, and just because I created the lights doesn't mean I'm in control of them. They could come for me any second O_o
Draconlaris: UPDATE SOON, AHA YOU'RE FUNNY. No but seriously, thanks for reviewing and shiiiit :D
ultimateform14: Who's not updating now, biooootch? Kidding. Honestly, thanks so much for that review, and you have the honour of making me get my ass back into this thing.
Big huge thanks to:
-BLMID, for adding this story to their favourites
-Reiji Ishiya, for adding this story to their alert
-ultimateform14, for adding this story to their alert and favourites
-wooqy, for adding this story to their alert and favourites
WHAT. AN UPDATE? Hellz yeah! I'm so sorry about that intensely long wait guys, it's just... I had the hugest writer's block ever ._. I hope you'll still read this even though it's been three months...
The murderer rises with the light; He kills the poor and needy;
and in the night he is like a thief.
-Jobs 24:14
"There's the border." Lucy pointed to a cluster of lights in front of them. "Just act natural, okay? And whatever you do, don't let him see that blood."
Desmond turned his body slightly to the left as they pulled up to the booth, so the blood stain on his sweater was against the seat and not visible.
"Buonasera(1)," the border guard greeted them, opening his window. "Francese o Italiana?(2)"
Lucy stared at him blankly.
"French or Italian?" Desmond muttered to her.
"Oh!" Lucy laughed sheepishly. "Je suis désolée, monsieur. Français.(3)"
"Les passeports, s'il vois plaît,(4)" the guard said, unfazed, holding out his hand.
Lucy, cheeks dusted slightly red, reached into the door beside her and handed them to him.
"Américane?(5)" he asked, opening Lucy's passport.
"Oh, oui(6)," she replied.
"Pas beaucoup de Français dans ce pays,(7)" the guard commented. "La plupart sont au Canada.(8)"
Lucy nodded in response.
The guard turned to Desmond's passport. "Italien, monsieur?(9)" he asked, talking around Lucy.
Desmond looked at him pointedly, knowing what he was saying, but wanting the man to understand he didn't appreciate being spoken to in a language he didn't speak.
"Oh, mi dispiace. Che era colpa mia,(10)," the guard apologized. "Perché stai viaggiando insieme, se si parlano lingue diverse?(11)"
"Noi e due parlano Inglese,(12)" Desmond explained.
"Ha un senso.(13)" The guard handed them back their passports. "Hanno un bel tempo in Francia,(14)" he said, then switched back to French and said to Lucy, "Avoir un bon séjour en France.(15)"
"Merci, au revoir,(16)" Lucy replied lightly, taking back the passports and driving away slowly. She rolled up her window and breathed out deeply. "Well, that was easy."
Desmond grinned. "You said it."
It was near-instantaneous. Lights flashed on behind them from two black cars that had been using the dark roads to their advantage. A split-second later, gunfire exploded the quiet night and shook Desmond to his core.
"Shit!" Lucy screamed, swerving then righting the truck. "Get down, you idiot!" she yelled as he sat there, then shoved his head forward with one hand when he didn't move.
Desmond hunched down low in his seat, eyes wide, feeling every single bullet hit their vehicle. Lucy barely had her eyes over the wheel as she ducked.
One of the cars sped up, moving next to them. It opened its passenger window, and all Desmond could see was the gun.
"Oh no you don't," Lucy growled, jerking the wheel to her left. The sharp sound of metal on metal cut through the air, and sparks showered onto the road. Lucy kept at it, and the black car was forced off of the road, where it spun off into the dirt.
The smile wasn't even on to Desmond's lips before they bucked to the right after a huge popping noise.
"The tire!" Lucy cried, real fear in her eyes now. Almost immediately the truck started to slow, and despite Lucy's best efforts, it stopped a few hundred metres past where they'd been hit. The remaining car halted behind them and two men in suits that looked too much like the Secret Service got out.
"We don't have any guns?" Desmond demanded in a whisper as they got closer.
Lucy shook her head. She looked like she was about to say something, but both doors were violently pulled open, and all Desmond could hear was yelling.
"Hands in the air! Out of the car!"
Immediately he obeyed, thrusting his left hand into the air and gingerly lowering himself onto the dirt. The guard on his side grabbed the Assassin's arm and shoved him roughly against the hood of the van, so his stomach was slammed into the metal.
Gasping, Desmond looked up across the hood to see Lucy in a similar position. She stared at him, and all he could see was the hopelessness in her eyes.
Without warning, Desmond whipped around and jammed his blade into the guard's eye socket, killing him instantly in a spray of blood. The other guard cried out and abandoned Lucy, rushing around the front of the truck, weapon raised.
Desmond stared down the barrel and froze. He'd always had a fear of guns, and his splintered consciousness was not helping matters.
"We were supposed to take you back to Vidic," the guard growled, raising his pistol to eye level and taking aim at Desmond's face. "But he's going to be disappointed."
Desmond glanced to the side. Lucy was staring, just staring, a look of pure horror on her face. He looked back, determined to see his death down, and breathed deeply.
The guard's finger tightened around the trigger, and there was a large flash. It wasn't, however, from the gun.
A light had materialized and was now floating in front of Desmond, who, despite the situation, felt angry. "Now's not the best time for this!"
The light ignored him, and instead hissed out, "he is not yours to kill."
Desmond realized it was facing the guard and not him. It was actually protecting him.
The guard's eyes darted around the empty landscape, though he never moved. "Who's there?" he growled.
"Leave now, and you will be spared," the light rumbled.
"Fuck this," the guard hissed, and fired at Desmond.
The Assassin gasped, expecting to find blood pumping out of some hole in his body, but found after a quick look-over of himself found that there was no blood on him other than the guard's.
The light let out a screech of rage, having been fired at, at pulsed once so that a shockwave exploded from it, killing the guard instantly. One second he was standing there, the next his eyes had exploded in his face and he was falling to the side.
Lucy's eyes had grown considerably wider until they were like two blue orbs in her face, reflecting the light from the truck's cab and headlights. "It saved your life," she breathed, staring widely at the light.
"He still has a task to complete," the light hissed, pulsing a glowing red.
Now Lucy's eyes turned to Desmond. He was still staring at the guard, laying lifeless in the dirt with two bloody holes in his face. He slowly looked up toward the light, feeling totally drained.
"I am so sick and tired of you." He tried to make his voice firm, but all he could manage was a whisper.
"It's just one little task," the light reminded him, swooping down next to his head. "And after it's done, I can take you home."
An image flashed in his head, an image of New York City outlined against the sunset. America. His true home.
Slowly, Desmond turned his head to look at Lucy. She was staring at him, a pleading look in her eyes, yet her facial expression told him that she didn't think he'd do it.
"Might I remind you that it's almost midnight and you're stuck in the French countryside with no phone or means of transportation." The light was talking again.
"There's two fucking dead guys here!" Desmond exclaimed.
"I can make it all go away."
He shook his head. "No. You can't touch us, and you know it."
The light pulsed faster, angrier. "Fine," it hissed. "Have fun getting arrested." It blinked away.
As soon as its light faded, Desmond fell to the side, feeling dizzy, and clutched at the hood of the van.
"What do we do?" he gasped.
"Well.." Lucy squinted out at the horizon. "I can see some lights over there. There's a flashlight in the car, maybe we can go try and find help..."
"I meant about the fucking lights," Desmond growled, gritting his teeth. His head was throbbing painfully, and all he wanted to do was lay down and die.
"Uh, I think we've got bigger problems," Lucy whispered, rushing around to his side of the van. "The other two guards are coming."
Desmond, shaking off his tiredness, looked up at the cab and did some quick calculations. "I've got an idea. Hide. I can handle this."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Lucy grabbed his arm as he was about to move away. "Could you at least tell me what you're planning on doing?"
"Not unless you want to die," he replied grimly. "We don't have time. Just trust me, okay?"
She sighed. "Fine." Without another word, she dropped to her stomach and shimmied under the box.
Desmond jogged to the front of the van, wincing at the pain in his thigh, then used his good hand to pull himself onto the hood, then over the windshield onto the roof of the cab. Another small step and he was crouching on top of the truck, just barely outlined by the moon.
The guards came around the passenger side first. "Where are they?" one asked his partner, then muttered, "oh, shit" when he saw the two dead men.
Desmond gritted his teeth, waiting for his opportunity. Realizing he'd have no balance with just one arm, he pulled his sling off, telling himself that if he messed up his hand beyond repair it would be worth it to live. He gently set the shirt down on the roof, crouching lower at the edge.
"They can't have gotten far," the same guard said, sounding totally wooden about his two co-workers' death.
"Yeah," the other agreed, coming to stand beside his partner. "They're probably hiding under the fucking truck or something." Both of them had their guns out.
One kneeled. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Desmond leapt down, thrusting his blade through the standing guard's neck. The other guard heard the strangled cries and whipped his head around, standing immediately.
Seeing no other way, Desmond thrust out his right hand and pushed with all his might against the guard's right until the gun wasn't pointed at him. As soon as he could, the Assassin flicked his wrist back and jammed his blade into the guard's eye - what was with him and the eyes? - killing him instantly.
Desmond stood, panting, blood all over him, bodies around him. His right hand sang with pain, but he ignored it. He'd done it. He'd saved them.
I'll scatter the ashes
And kneel for the choir
Well done, a voice whispered.
1 - Good evening
2 - French or Italian?
3 - I'm sorry, sir. French.
4 - Passports, please.
5 - American?
6 - yes
7 - Not many French-speaking people in that country.
8 - Most are in Canada.
9 - Italian, sir?
10 - Oh, sorry. That was my fault.
11 - Why are you travelling together if you speak different languages?
12 - We both speak English.
13 - Makes sense.
14 - Have a nice time in France. (in Italian)
15 - Have a nice time in France. (in French)
16 - Thank you, good-bye.
Don't expect updates any time soon. This chapter was such a fail I need a week or two to recover from it -headdesk-