Didn't feel great about this chapter. Honestly, I've written more chapters later on that I thought had a better flow. Considered scrapping the beginning and starting at a later part in the film, but I want to improve my writing style. And maybe by the end of this story I'll have an interesting record of how my writing style evolved. Thank you so much for those who have reviewed the story so far! Please read and let me know what you think. Hopefully you enjoy it. :)
Within seconds he was caught up to the little black car. The Teller girl pulled a number of surprisingly sharp turns, probably as directed by the American. Pulling his car next to theirs Kuryakin was moving to end the chase. The Teller girl whipped her head at him for one second and then the side of her car smashed into his and their cars were locked side by side in a whirl that indicated a superior driver. Kuryakin glanced into the other car. The American was sitting in the corner of the backseat, looking up from his paper with a sort of calm curiosity. This move was all her. The cars spun apart and they shot off down the road as Kuryakin's car was forced on to the right of a pile of rubble. "So the little chop shop girl could drive".
The cat and mouse game continued far longer than Kuryakin was comfortable with. While the American had not managed to kill or loose him in the winding roads of East Berlin. The American had skillfully maneuvered through the night like a cat, and it didn't help that the Teller girl was in no way helpless. After running after their car, almost successfully anchoring their car with his body and taking down several insufferable German officers Kuryakin was ready to end the chase. This was supposed to be a quiet, effective KGB extraction. His handler would not be pleased if he stirred up their half of Berlin in the middle of the night.
In a seemingly impossible move the girl had anchored the car between two walls in a narrow alleyway. Kuryakin bolted up the stairs after them, his legs beginning to ache and smart from the extreme exertion. The American took the Teller girl to the roof and bolted the roof door shut. Gunshots did nothing to budge the door so he darted around through an old woman's apartment and continued the chase.
The American had backup, they were on the boarder of the Berlin wall and there was a rope hooked across the wall to the roof. Kuryakin watched the Teller girl wrap her arms around the tall American and slip away from him over the wall. Tearing off his jacket he used it to slide down the rope after them. He could chase them to the ends of the world. The Americans took everything while sacrificing nothing. And yet everyone trusted them implicitly, it was the Russians, the Soviets that were always held in distrust and suspicion. The little chop shop girl was doing just like that. Trusting the American because he got their first, looked good, had the "open" "honest" "American" face. Kuryakin felt the rope slacken before he reached the wall and watched his targets vanish from his sight beyond the Berlin wall. Blood boiling, Kuryakin let go of the rope and dropped to the ground. For now she was gone, but the KGB's reach was not limited by the iron curtain, he would get to her. He had underestimated the American, that was a mistake he would not repeat. The temperature dropped within seconds as a cool breeze blew in from the north, putting a slight chill in the warm summer night. Storm winds were reaching beyond the iron curtain. There was a tempest was rising within the Russian man to match the storm in nature. Gusts of wind began to blow across the wall and lightening flickered across the dark sky reflecting in the fierce blue eyes glaring into the night. In just minutes he would pass through the wall and be after his prey.