The Way to Hell

Chapter Two: Stormbringer

It doesn't take a genius to understand that August simply wanted to use her as an angle to plot his escape; someone he can exploit for a place to stay, and get his dick wet on the way. Ingvild fumes at the thought. Usually, she doesn't care if her targets suffer too much, but this time she will make sure to make an extra effort when taking this man down.

"Ingi," Liam calls, interrupting her train of thoughts. The girl lowers the file to her nose, peering at the ageing assassin. "You are not the only one on this job, get it?"

"There will be others," she nods in acknowledgement. 

This only makes the sting of failure burn hotter. To think she had him right there in the base of her palm and let him get away.

"August Walker is wanted by every organization in the world right now - Mossad, FBI, CIA, MI6, Interpol, even fucking Scotland Yard. And the price is high, so you better watch your back out there and get him first." His hazel eyes glint with the closest thing to care she ever saw in them.

Granting him one of her obviously fake smirks, she shrugs. "You know me, Liam, I'm a professional, I get the job done."

That's actually the only thing he can say about her that's true. The child may be the devil's bride but despite her psychotic tendencies, she is organised, meticulous, and savvy. She'd spend weeks tracking down a target without being detected and would take them down in seconds without anyone ever knowing she was there.

After a long silent stare, the old man nods and then takes 1000 Norwegian krone in cash from his jacket. "To get you started," he speaks and gets up from his chair.

"Bye, Papa," she provokes, eliciting a disgusted grunt from his mouth as he exits the diner.

Her pale eyes track the old man through the window, watching him drive away before she breaks into a sigh and mutters some profanities. The young cashier and the patrons gawk at her, baffled.

"Faen! Faen! Faen!"

Icy wrath paints her face as she marches outside. Agent Walker is probably in Bergen by now, he has at least an hour ahead of her and a man like him who managed to hide beneath the CIA's nose for such a long time will probably go underground soon. There's a very limited time window for success.

Failure is not an option.

The gas station's parking lot seems abandoned at this time,  crows crackle in mockery while the young woman storms onto the crunchy gravel in search of her bike. Strange. She is not one to ever forget where she parked and she is 100% convinced she left it right next to the street lamp, and yet it's nowhere to be seen, almost as if it was...

"Motherfucker!!!!!"

~*~

A deep, long, lingering groan escapes his throat. Beaten and aching, his large, naked body sinks into the hot bathwater and he immediately shuts his eyes. His voice is raspy and low as he curses in a mixture of pain and relief. 

"F....u........c....k...."

It's not long before the foam becomes pink from the blood staining the water.

Leaning his head back, August stares at the tiny soap bubbles as slowly they dissolve into nothing.

'Quite the metaphor,' he muses with drowsy eyes, wondering how many more moments of serenity like this will he be eligible to. The young woman at the reception downstairs was yet to recognise him. She was slightly uncomfortable by his dishevelled looks, eyeing him with concern, but he paid by cash to which she kindly smiled and kept her mouth shut.