- What the fuck, did they really have to come all the way to the top of a six-story building? - I plod along the fire escape, with Tears right behind me.
- Do you always have to complain? You've been whining since the first floor, just for a couple of flights of stairs! - He answers me.
- I am a sedentary person, and must I remind you about the invention of lifts? -
- And I'll remind you about something called gym. Imagine how it would have been if you had to carry all that crap you wanted to bring along! -
- That crap could tell us if more refugees are coming through the passage while we're climbing up these stairs. For all we know, they could have doubled! -
- For all we know, we could even never get upstairs at this rate! -
I'm so busy yelling back at him that I don't notice that I reached the last step. A hail of bullets hits the tar coating of the roof we've just reached. My hand snaps to the Glock but I see the jumping tar coming closer to me.
I step back, my gun slips and the parapet wall is now behind me.
I jump over it and get down.
I hear Tears scream, "SON OF AN UNMARRIED MOTHER!"
More shots. I'm holding onto the railing. On the other side of the parapet. And I can't see anything.
The shooting stops. I hear a shout and then a screaming man flies by me, falling down.
Tears leans over the railing and looks at the refugee crashing to the ground six floors below.
- Shit, - I say. - Did you see that jump? -
He chuckles. - Who do you think threw him? -
He leans against the railing and looks at me hanging over six stories. - Hey, how's the weather down there? -
- Oh very nice. There's a lovely view. FUCK YOU! - I hear him laugh while he grabs the neck of my sweatshirt and pulls me up with only one hand. He freaks me out when he does things like that.
- Now, what the fuck were you doing down there? -
- I was avoiding the bullets! - I say, shaking off the dust.
- You jumped over by yourself? Are you stupid? -
- At that moment it seemed like a great idea. -
He laughs again. At least someone is having fun. - Are you okay? - He asks.
I check. - Y... Yes... I think my heart is still beating. - I grab my Glock from the ground and when I get up I see him, right behind him.
- TEARS! -
I shoot.
****
While the rookie's bullet brushes my ear, I have no time to wonder if he can distinguish the refugee's head behind me from my own, because I have something else to worry about. Behind the rookie there's another asshole. And the Beretta in my hand is dangerously light. I pull the trigger, but I can already see it in the corner of my eye: the slide is back.
It's empty.
I saw it in the rookie's eyes that he heard him, but he believed that the one behind me was the most dangerous one. Now that refugee is moaning on the ground, he probably got shot in the shoulder.
Fuck it.
The boy freezes, raises his hands, and drops the Glock.
- So, what do you do now, huh? - The standing refugee asks me.
I grin. - Nothing, I wait for you to take him out and then I shoot you. - I get the bullet box from my pocket and pull out the slide. – You won't have time to shoot both of us. - While reloading, the guy grits his teeth and is thinking about running away, in the meantime I manage to put in a bullet and I'm faster than his panic-stricken brain. One bullet is all I need and the slide is already back in the Beretta.
I keep him under fire even if there's the rookie in between.
I tilt my head and grin a little. - See, asshole, what you don't know is that my colleague, by accepting these missions, also agreed to die in the attempt of finishing them. -
I see the rookie's eyes open wide. - What? Hell, no! -
I ignore him and go on. - He's willing to die rather than be taken as an hostage. -
- What? Why should I? - He's getting more upset.
- Would you mind shutting up? - I ask, annoyed by all these interruptions.
- Oh sure! You are about to make a hole in my forehead and I also have to shut up! I save your ass and you sacrifice me to the cause! At least pretend to... -
Not even a second passes by. He elbows him in his ribs, a shot is fired but the rookie ducks, he leans on his right foot and hand on the ground and with his left leg stretched out he spins around and kicks him to the ground.
He retrieves the Glock and stomps on the guy's hand. The refugee's gun falls and he kicks it away.
- What the fuck! I have to do everything by myself! - He swears.
I'm already reloading the gun with the other bullets. The rookie, instead, is randomly ranting in my direction as he holds the guy at gunpoint.
I finally turn to the one that was behind me.
- It's never a good idea to reach me from behind. - I point the gun to his forehead, he's kneeling and profusely bleeding from his chest.
- Go to hell, - he says.
- Save me a spot. - And I shoot him.
From behind, the rookie's voice is always too high to be bore by my ears. - TEARS! DAMN IT! Do you have to kill everyone you meet? -
I reach him and the other refugee, and he's already holding him at gunpoint. - Well, you're still alive. - I stand next to the rookie and point my gun too.
- So do you want to get over with him too? - He asks me. He puts his Glock in his pocket and, without having to ask him, he searches him.
- Nah, I can still hold on for a while. -
The rookie finds a note in the guy's inner jacket and hands it over to me without reading it. Great, he immediately understood what he had to do. I shove it in my pocket, I'll read it later.
- So, fucking idiot. I might decide not to explode your brain and simply throw you back from where you came from if you tell me how your local inside guy contacted you. -
- I don't know shit, my friend, – he tells me, he's shitting in his pants.
- Yes, of course, but see, I'm not your friend. Shall we check if your memory comes back by changing the air in your brain? - I stick the Beretta barrel to his forehead.
From the corner of my eye I see the kid picking the refugee's revolver, an old Colt Python. He seems to know what he's doing, he's very relaxed. I let him be and press the gun again on the guy's face.
- What do you think? Maybe if I dig a tunnel through one of your eyes the information that I need will jump out along with your grey matter. -
With one movement the rookie pulls out the cylinder, he pushes out all the bullets, then he puts one back in and spins the cylinder before putting it back into place. Then, he aims at the refugee's head.
- How about this. I count to three, and if you don't tell us anything, I shoot, - he says. – Maybe you get lucky, maybe you don't. -
He starts counting. And I stare at him.
Is he serious?
- Wait I don't... - but the guy is too slow and the rookie gets to 3.
He pulls the trigger.
BOOM!
Brain matter and blood all over my shoes.
What the fuck! - I snap. - Bloody hell! What were you thinking? -
The guy falls down with a new air intake in his skull and the rookie is almost more baffled than the dead refugee.
- One... One out of six. It was almost statistically impossible! - He stutters and jerks around. He first checks the guy, then looks at the gun, then looks at the guy again, and then throws the revolver on the ground as if it were white hot.
- Sure, sure... - I mumble as I try to remove a slimy and bloody piece from my boot.
- A single one. One fucking chance out of six. It was... just to scare him. - He's talking to himself, with his high-pitched, upset voice.
- And to scare him you put in a real bullet? - I pull a leaf from a potted hydrangea nearby and I wipe away the slime from the leather on my boots. - Just look at this mess! -
- A single chance. I mean, the very first bullet, how the hell... was it... -
- Call the cleaning team, will you? - I say. – Fuck! What a fucking shitty mess, - I mumble.
He twists the wrist watch to activate the GPS and he's still saying, – One over eight... - and I see him walking away.
- Where are you going, huh? Where the fuck are you going now? -
He jerks hysterical. – I'm going to die jumping in a ravine, okay? -
****
It's just a second.
I see his eyes go wide and then he points the Beretta towards me. He doesn't have the time to yell something at me that I instinctively duck and roll on my side.
I hear a blade hiss at less than an inch from my neck. I roll and I'm already clutching my Glock.
Fuck! I didn't even feel him! It's the first time that it happens to me!
He's there, kneeling. He probably jumped off the roof of the tallest building on the right. The light long black duster is still setting down behind him, and he's holding a katana in his hand. His eyes are two nasty splits and the pupils are narrow like those of a cat.
- You have no business here, - he hisses.
He springs towards me. I fire three shots, but I can't hit him because he's too fast and he's already over me. I roll. I hear the sound of the steel blade on the tar roof, one, two, three times. Then a gunshot. I squeeze my eyes, but I'm not the one who got shot and it was Tears' gun. I open my eyes and he's gone.
The only thing I see is Tears looking up, his gun still aimed in my direction. I look up and I see him too, disappearing over the rooftops. He jumps like a gazelle, that asshole!
- Let's go! - Tears is yelling at me and he's already running towards the fire escape of the building, heading for the Leon parked below.
I get up and run after him. - What? -
- Cut your fucking hair if you can't hear me, I said let's go! We must get him! - He practically jumps from one flight of stairs to another, when, at the most, I can jump three steps at a time. He gets in the car and, as usual, he leaves before I'm completely inside. And we leave all the tire tread on that street.
As soon as we take off, a hail of bullets pierce the car hood and windshield. We throw ourselves down and hit our heads against each other.
A fair amount of Saints and Gods get named.
We get back up. Tears' head is hard and I'm a bit dazed. I massage my skull. He doesn't even seem to have felt the blow, I think his head must be all bone, no cavities.
- Fuckfuckfuckfuck! - Tears punches the steering wheel and scans the rooftops instead of keeping an eye on the road. It's night and there are no people around, but nevertheless there are still obstacles and...
- WATCH OUT! - I scream.
Tears suddenly swerves and avoids the corner of a house. I end up against the door and then he yells at me. – SHUT THE FUCK UP! I've been driving since long before your father's dick put you in the oven! -
- Yes, but granted that your driving is not of the safest kind to begin with, right now it's even worse than usual and I don't understand why. - I'm clinging everywhere. I have the seat belt on, my feet planted down, I hold on to the handle with my right hand and to the seat with my left one.
- I DON'T SEE HIM ANYMORE! -
He sharply punches what is left of the windshield glass and takes it off, just to throw it out of the car.
This is the first time that I see him so angry.
I bend down and pull the laptop out of my backpack. He glares at me with one eye. He thinks I can't see him, but a professional thief sees and hears everything. The computer was on standby and it immediately activates. I hook up the connection through the mobile and access the Confederation program. I uploaded the same communication program Tears has on his computer at home. - WHAT THE FUCK D'YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING WITH THAT THING? HELP ME FIND THAT ASSHOLE! -
- IT'S EXACTLY WHAT I'M DOING!!! -
He shuts up.
That's strange.
I go back to my computer. I even pull out the GPS and I hook it up too.
- That's not possible. -
- What? - He punches the steering wheel again.
- We're going twenty miles an hour, so he must be around here, but the GPS doesn't detect him. It's impossible. He's got the Iantor with him, so he has to release some kind of energy. It doesn't detect him, the screen only shows the two of us. -
- That's obvious, you IDIOT! The Iantor is only a catalyst, not a device full of power! And he doesn't even have that fucking bracelet anymore! – He grabs the GPS from my hands and throws it out of the window.
- AND NOW TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK YOU ARE! - He yells... to the GPS.
I clear my throat and put the computer away.
I'm still bent over when I hear a crash in front of me.
****
One instant, and time broadens.
It's all a flash of frames and noises. The crash of the metal sheet of the hood. A second crash that I don't identify immediately. The katana stuck in the headrest of the passenger seat. The rookie's eyes wide open.
And then I see it, he's holding the Glock.
When I slam on the brakes, time starts to go by again.
Sin rolls down the hood. I see blood but I don't know who it belongs to. As soon as I understand that Sin didn't fall back but simply jumped backwards, I reach out towards Zendaru, but I keep my eyes fixed on my enemy. I try to shake the rookie, but if he got stabbed in the forehead with a katana it will be unlikely that he's going to answer me.
Sin gets up. He puts a hand on his neck. He stares at his own blood.
And he licks one of his fingers.
He looks at me.
Then he jumps away and I lose sight of him.
This time I don't run after him, I turn to the rookie.
- HEY! ZEN! -
I shake his head, I see some blood, but I don't understand where the fuck it's coming out from.
- HEY! YOU FILTHY ASSHOLE, DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON YOUR SECOND JOB! -
He turns to look at me, that's when I realize that the blood is coming out of his ear. I also see where the blade got in: in the headrest, next to his right ear. It's only a scratch.
He looks at me, white faced, his eyes wide and his pupils like needles. He grabs my collar and shakes me.
- T... Tears! - He's devastated.
- What? -
- Do I look like Van Gogh? -
****
It's almost dawn and I followed the whole fight from the top of some nearby buildings. Now I'm looking at them pushing the Leon along Borri avenue. Tears is pushing the car from behind and the rookie is half in and half out of the driver's side. I can also hear them talk.
- You'll find your feet at the end of your legs, why don't you start using them? -
- I'm using them! It's just this damn car that weighs like a van! -
- You've got a glass backbone, that's your problem! I'm the only one pushing here, don't think I didn't notice it! -
- Have you ever heard of tow trucks? -
- Of course I have! And how would you explain a hood that has more holes in it than a golf course? Pigeons shitting acid!? -
That kid they assigned him is not bad. He has a good body and he fights well, especially for his age.
I smile and shake my head. I was planning to drop by at Tears' place to check on the new arrival, but judging from the way his car looks, I don't think I'll have to come up with excuses. He'll give me a call tomorrow.
Or better, today. In the distance I can see that it's already dawning.
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