Never Just One
Aaron Cross's PoV:
I'm being followed.
I look into my rear-view mirror to further inspect the car that's been following me for about half an hour. It's grey and small, with no license plate or brand name. The windshield is tinted so I can't see the driver; whoever this guy is, he knows his stuff. Finally aware of the danger I could be in, I speed up inconspicuously, driving into a crowded parking structure. He doesn't follow me straight in, though; he goes around once and follows me from a level below. I drive to the very top, where there are less cars and no people, and park there. Before he reaches where I am, I switch out the license plate with one of the many extras I have hidden in the glove compartment. Silently, I get into the passengers' seat and lower it until you can't see it through the window, and I wait.
Just seconds later, the car pulls into my level. I look up at my mirror and see that he's parking at the opposite side of the lot. I move the mirror at an angle where the driver can't see inside my car, but I can't see him either.
The driver knows I'm here.
Suddenly, a loud crash hits my window, which is at the verge dropping shards all over me. I look towards the broken glass that seemed to form around a bullet hole. Reaching cautiously under my seat, I pull out a rifle and slide to the other side of the car. I open the door and get out from the drivers' side, holding my gun close. Five more bullets are shot at my car at random. I shoot as much as I can to the car before he fires back, aiming for where the shots came from. Knowing I wasn't going to win this just by running and gunning it, I think of a trick that has gotten every agent, every soldier, every time; the son of a bitch won't know what hit him.
I smirk to myself as a grab a random scrap of cloth and another gun from the inside of my car. I close the door and tie one end to the handle, and the other end to the trigger of the first gun. The gun swings under my car, shooting at his. I look up and notice that he's hiding behind the wheel, holding his fire. I dart across the parking lot until I reach his car, and pull off the final act. I slide over the hood, and aim and shoot at – nothing. Instead of being in place, he's behind me, with a gun right at my neck. "Turn around and I shoot," a deep, gruff voice says. It's easily detectible that he is hiding his voice to make it unrecognizable.
How did he know? He anticipated my every move! I invented that trick! I spin around, lugging the gun at his head, but he had already ducked behind the car. I take stance, but he comes up behind me first, covering my eyes and clutching my throat. Then I realize something- I still haven't seen his face. What is he hiding? I break his grip and turn to grab him in front, but he moves with all the agility I've ever seen – twisting my arm and pushing my head down on the car from behind, all in one motion. He grabs my head tighter and bangs it one hard time against the grey hood of the car, and for a few seconds I'm out. All I hear is the loud clunk of combat boots as he walks away. I get up, staggering. A soldier? A spy? An agent? I hear a click and see his arm rise through blurred vision. He's on the phone.
After about thirty seconds I start clearing up. I open the door to the car and start to press buttons and search papers. Nothing. Then a muffled transmission comes through the radio. "Report," I can barely make out. But the next part comes just a little clearer.
"Give me a day," said a voice surprisingly distinct, "I'll be done with him by then."
A woman.