CHICAGO BULLOCK (MXM)

Twenty

Igor stumbled onto the ground, hiding behind the bed with Chicago as he mumbles a curse, while Chicago shoots and ducks.

"Shit, what is going on, Cago?" Igor whispered as Chicago slides on his hip dragging his feet on the ground to get on the other side of the bed.

He pressed the platform of his bed hard making it glow a light purple before sliding open. Igor gasped, but Chicago paid no attention to him as he pulls out a gun and toss it over to Igor. Then pulled out a box of bullets.

"Right now, in order to leave this place alive, I'd suggest you start defending yourself. I can only get you somewhere," he said, ignoring Igor's perplexed expression.

"You think they are more?" Igor asked as now the shooting has stopped.

"They'd be stupid to come alone," Chicago respond, peeking his head up to only be met by a dark hallway with the three dead men pilling by the door.

He got up and grabbed a t-shirt off the ground slipping it quickly on as Igor did the same, now he was fully awake and ready for a mission he was clueless about. But in order to stay alive he had to fight.

"Grab what you need. Only what you need," Chicago instructed as he checks for his USB which he hid away from Igor and sighed when he found it still secured in the small patch attached to his sweatpants. He grabbed his phone slipping it in his pocket before going over to Igor's side. Igor slipped his badge in his pocket and grabbed his phone, which was quickly snatched out of his hold and tossed to the wall landing on the floor with a loud clatter.

"It can be traced, mine can't," he declared.

Igor frowned looking at Chicago suspiciously as if he didn't know the man before him at the moment.

"Why do you have an untraceable phone?"

"Questions later, pretty boy," he said before sneaking out of the bedroom, sliding into the hallway.

Pretty boy? Igor was just dumbfounded by the whole scenerio. Since when did Chicago call him a, pretty boy? The two words left a bitter taste in his mouth. He shook his head following Chicago out of the room. He slid into the hallway and pinned himself against the wall next to Chicago who was sliding against it towards the kitchen and living room. He stopped abruptly, and Igor made a move to go ahead of him but was slammed back on the wall, an arm pressing his chest firmly.

"There are more men out there. I need to figure out where," Chicago whispered.

Igor clenched his jaw irritated by the whole thing and Chicago thinking he can tell him what to do. He's a motherfuckin' agent! But he still obliged to Chicago's demand, feeling his arm drop off his chest.

"I can hear feet movement by the stove. Estimating three more people," he said.

Igor nodded, pulling down the safety pin of his new gun.

"On my count," Chicago ordered and waited for a confirmation nod which he got before mouthing the numbers from three to one.

They slid out of their hiding place and started firing in the darkness. They heard two thuds before the lights switched on revealing three more people armed. Clearly, Chicago had his count wrong. There were five more people with the two already dead. Igor rolled across to hide behind the couch while Chicago gets behind the kitchen counter.

Before Chicago could fathom what the hell was happening to him, he was being slammed on the counter top and being strangled. He tried to squirm his way out of that sabotaging position. He shifted his gaze in time to catch one of them aiming for his head. Chicago was quicker and more experienced as he slipped his gun that was already in hand and blew the man's brains out before turning to shoot the one above him.