So it has come to my attention that not only has fanfiction stopped all emails alerting of new chapters from going out but has also stopped any new review emails from coming into me. So everyone asking for an update? Yeah, I didn't see that y'all. My bad.
Chapter 7
The glint of the man's goggles was directed straight at Percy. Somewhere under that sheen glimmering off the lamplight was a pair of eyes staring at him. Stuck in silent wonder on whether or not he should re-aim to the first witness.
Percy averted his gaze. The brittle sharpness of his headspace zoomed around his mind like a weighted blanket. Instead of reacting, he feigned a stretch, as if he was simply craning his neck to get the knots out.
Water. Cold water.
Nonchalantly he reburied his hands in his pockets and gripped his gun in his right. The silencer in his left. Wavering in place, he tried to look natural. Bored even.
Now what?
He should probably go back inside. Cement himself as an innocent to this crime and play shocked when Annabeth was mysteriously shot. Maybe attempt to save her to really sell his good character scheme. His identification was good, he could survive any police questions that would pop up.
No. Something deep inside was gurgling in protest. No. I can't watch her die.
Okay so he'd take a lap of the neighbourhood then. Once the shot was fired, he would rush back and call the police. Evade her corpse and stay as silent as possible. Let the world come crashing and rolling and splashing around her empty body like a monsoon of chaos as he stood in the background with all the answers but none of the willingness to confess.
No.
Well then maybe he should just leave. Slip inside for two minutes to say goodbye, before walking away. It was the route that would make him look the most suspicious but if he had to-
No. No. No. NO. Oceans don't die by snipers. Oceans don't die by bullets.
Percy sighed an empty vaporous cloud into the air. Following the steam with his eyes until it dissipated into nothing. Dreading the feeling he had deep down. The lie that was pinging against his ribcage. The lie that he told himself over and over in a meaningless chant. That one little lie he couldn't admit was a lie anymore. And so he lied some more.
She wasn't just a victim. She was his victim. His stupid impossible victim that he'd already put so much time and money and effort into lulling her suspicions. He couldn't let all that effort go just because some animal with a rifle wanted to botch her death with a bullet instead of having the common decency to whip up an ounce of artistry. She deserved a fitting death, a tasteful demise. Not some common bullet shot through a window without any consideration to her feelings or existence. She couldn't be treated like just another mark, just another paycheck, just another target.
She couldn't.
Without thinking, he was moving forward. Crossing the street with heavy steps and an empty mind. Liquidly moving up the stairs to Annabeth's porch and stopping at the door. The entrancing light from within beckoned him with warmth and the promise of companionship.
He didn't even glance at the door handle.
Instead he hopped over the wooden ledge separating him from the alley between the two houses. Sneaking in the one blind spot of the second assassin. More importantly, one of the blindspots of Annabeth's surveillance systems.
Quietly he dropped down onto the pebbled path and stalked over to the wood paneled side of the neighbours house, pressing his back into its oaky smelling edge. Creeping along while making the minimal amount of noise possible just to be cautious. Not that it mattered. That man had been wearing full gear, including a helmet and night vision goggle set. With the wind picking up and the obstruction blocking his ears, he probably couldn't hear two feet around himself. Better for Percy.
For a moment he stayed glued to the side. Listening for the hum of sound coming from inside the house. A heater at work, footsteps, voices, the sound of water draining from a toilet or washer machine. Instead he found an overpowering silence. The kind that spoke of absence. There wasn't even a car in the driveway, nor a garage to hide it in. The homeowners must've been out.
How promising.
This fence though.
It was an impressive fence to the backyard. Seven feet tall, and constructed from some fine black wrought iron bars that stabbed at the cloudy sky with stubby solid points. The icy metal slipped under his gloved grip as he scrambled his way up the side. Careful of the points, he stood at the top and was able to snag his hands on the gutter of the roof. From there it was a simple pull up, foot hook, and roll on.
The assassin lay just shy of the roof's peak on the other side. Out of eyeshot, but from this distance Percy could see the hint of winter vapor and hear him breathing. Steady and relaxed. Stuck in the ever looming state of wait.
Ninety percent of a sinner's life was spent waiting. Percy could relate. The hours before a kill were sometimes the calmest he'd ever been. Something about survival and death that made you more anchored to the world in those moments. More intune with your surroundings. Hence the reason why he had to be extra careful here.
He wasn't hunting prey.
Silently, Percy slid his hand into the fold of his pocket and drew out his gun. A hesitance in his movements as he considered the consequences carefully.
Hitmen, assassins weren't usually lone wolves like himself. They worked for organized crime institutions. Killing one of them meant potentially pissing off a wealthy crime lord for messing with his pet.
Not to mention he wasn't prepared for a kill. There was nowhere to dispose of the body. Nothing to clean up with. There was no way he could frame this as anything but a murder.
And where there's murder there's someone looking for the murderer.
Was Annabeth worth going to jail for?
Percy placed the gun back in his pocket then placed a hand over his mouth to mask the vapor that rose in the darkness. It was a dangerous indicator and something that threatened to expose his position.
No, he had to act smart. Guns were easy, but they were also a dead giveaway to murder. Literally. He needed to be more subtle, more ingenious. He needed to whip up that classic trade creativity that made him the top of the top when it came to clients.
He needed… to keep his surroundings in mind.
Without taking time to second guess himself, Percy clambered up the side of the roof and slipped over. At the first moment he was in eyeshot, his target's head snapped back in shock. Percy leapt at the peak of the roof. Slamming his boot into the nozzle of the rifle just as it was being re-aimed, he dislodged from the other sinner's grip on the weapon. It clattered against the shingles. Right beneath the other sinner still. Within grasp. Desperately, the man made a grab but Percy was faster. He pounced on the man and ripped his goggles and helmet clean off. For a second there was unblemished silence, then the man gasped a raspy panicked tone as his helmet bounced down the slant of the roof and hit the ground far below.
Cold. Calm. Water.
Their eyes met. Recognition was passed.
This was a fight to the death.
No room for denial.
Without missing another second, Percy slammed his knee into the man's gut. Winding him, stunning him for a millisecond. Long enough. He groped at the man's belt, his pockets searching for a second weapon.
There. His fingers brushed by it. Another gun. He could discern the cold hard material of a gun anywhere. Even with a holster packed tightly around it and frozen still from the coarse brittle air.
Before he could disarm him, the other sinner flipped them around. Driving Percy's back into the roof. Pinning him by the shoulders. Grinning at his tiny move.
Thump. Percy drove his knee into the man's groin. Then flipped themselves back over. Driving him up towards the peak of the incline. With grit teeth, Percy flung his head down into the other sinners. Aiming for between the eyes. Crack.
The sting of contact on the apex of his forehead was instantly numbed by the adrenaline. That sweet sharpening hormone was reigning fire in his bloodstream, filling him with a tingling desire for completion. For the end he always seemed to dig in these scenarios.
Cold. Cool. Water.
He fumbled around the other sinner's belt to find the secondary weapon again. A little pistol. Something laughably small compared to his own gun, but effective enough, especially in close combat.
Just as he geared back to toss the item over the edge of the roof, the other sinner regained his senses enough to dislodge Percy's hold on his shoulder by ramming his elbow up into Percy's armpit. Collapsing forward, the tiny gun fell from his fingers and lay on the rough texture of the shingles, still within reach. Percy angled himself so his shoulder connected with the man's sternum. Too exhilarated to feel the pain.
A strangled urk escaped his victim's mouth but that was the only hint of surprise he gave. Within the span of a blink he was refocused, and rammed his hands up into Percy's chest pushing him over. Up up and over. Over the peak of the roof.
For a heart pounding second, Percy was free rolling. Stuck in his own momentum. Spiraling as the sky and shingles twirled around him, until he caught himself.
Scrambling on all fours, he threw himself up and over the peak again. Body slamming the sinner just as the man's hands wound around the little weapon lying cold near the edge of the roof. Together, they fell back into a mess of arms and legs. The heat of the man's breath was caught on Percy's brow and he wrinkled his nose at the stench of cigarettes and chewing gum. Percy pinned him against the shingles, disgust rolling in his gut.
"Just who the fuck are you?" the man growled indignantly as they grappled for control.
Percy's hands stayed locked on the man's wrist, forcing his aim away.
His breaths were coming long and hard. The nape of his neck was slick and steaming in the crisp night air. Both of them strained with grit teeth and wrinkled brows. Both had a fire in their eyes and an unwillingness to yield.
"Just a death wish," Percy spat between his teeth. "Yours. Mine. I don't give a fuck."
"Psycho-" the other sinner wrenched his hand free and rolled out from under him.
For a heart stopping second, his aim was pure. The dead black hole of the barrel of the gun was pointed right at the bridge of Percy's nose.
But he was rusty. His trigger finger was slow.
Like a major league soccer star, Percy put all his thrust into one kick and shot the little pistol into the night. Relishing the way it clattered into the street under the lamp he had stood not too long ago.
With a scoff of frustration, the other sinner bowled upwards and slammed into Percy. His fist connected with Percy's neck, eliciting a spasm of coughs that racked up through his lungs uncontrollably.
Choking, Percy fell back. Gasping for air that wouldn't come, and unconsciously clawing at his neck.
Water. Cool, smooth water.
The assassin rose to his feet and towered an arm above him. A knockout stance. A life ending move wrestler style. But before he could descend the bone cracking blow Percy lunged forward and tackled him by the torso. Over and over they tumbled together. Cresting across the sharp peak of black shingles and down the other side. Rolling with its slope. Glimpses of an orange sky and an urban horizon passed him by again but this time muffled by fabric and body heat and arms and legs still thrashing against him.
With the void of the roof seconds away, the other sinner jabbed his elbow into Percy's ribcage, erupting a shower of molten pain but it was too late. Percy was in the perfect position.
On the third roll Percy pulled his knees up to his chest between their two clashing bodies. Just as they hit the drop he vaulted his legs forward, springing the assassin away from him. Sending him flailing through the air. A guttural yelp bubbled from his chest when the realization hit.
Percy snagged the eave with one hand, jolting to a stop just as the wet crunch rang across the metal fence.
The other sinner lay over the fence. Three tips of pointed wrought iron had shredded through his torso and were sprouting out his stomach. A slight humming shifted from the bars as he gurgled and retched out streams of crimson. Blood poured out of his lips, dripping down his face into his eyes. Blood seeped in heavy streams from the wounds and soaked his clothes. For a moment, the other sinner trembled, his eyes wild, his hands formed into tense claws as he lay there suspended in a rigid arc convulsing with pain. Finally, the energy left him. The stiffness melted off. He dangled there in silence.
Percy caught the last cloud of vapor crumbling from the body out of the corner of his eye.
A steady spit of blood drenched down each metal bar and plipped into a large pool at the base. Clapping with a steady noise he knew all too well.
Empty minded and burning, Percy pulled himself back onto the roof. Retrieving the sniper rifle with numb gloved hands.
Sniper rifle. He decided. I just killed sniper rifles.
Without his gear, without his big gun, the corpse simply looked like a burglar who misstepped. A perfect frame. Percy glanced one more time at the arched corpse and gripped the gun tighter.
Sniper rifle. He repeated to himself. Sniper rifle.
Soundlessly he made his way back down. Collecting the helmet, night vision goggles and pistol from the pebbled pathway he surveyed the house once more. How empty and quite it remained. A blessing for him and all his dirty work.
Solemnly, Percy went around and threw himself against some windows and doors. Anything to make it look like an attempted break in gone bad. When he was satisfied with his work, he collected the other sinners' things again and was on his way.
Walking all the way down to the river in the shadows of the orange faced night, he threw them into the churning waters. Waiting until they sunk before he let his headspace leave him like a handkerchief in the wind.
Are you sad?
The sky mocked him.
Can you change it?
This is fun because Percy suddenly has to rationalize killing for the person he was supposed to kill. And we are just getting started in that department.
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edit: Thank you for the 'opting in' suggestions, but unfortunately I don't think it's the problem here. I have opted in. And I still get regular emails telling me about people who favourite and follow my stories/ my account. But they don't send me emails whenever someone reviews or PM's me. Annoying, right?
I'll just have to start actually checking in on my account every so once in a while.