Everest

p r o l o g u e

THERE was a gun to his head and he was smiling.

Dragging two fingers down his cheek, he pulled them away and watched the blood drip to the floor. It splashed rather spectacularly against the cold cement he kneeled on and his eyes found his reflection in the puddle of blood gathering at his feet.

With a little laugh, he spit out the blood already pooling in his mouth and glanced up at the bastard that held the piece of junk gun against his temple.

'Your fingers are shaking.'

It was a simple statement, a fact if you had asked him, but the guy seemed to take offense. If that's what him driving his free fist into his face meant.

Everest only spit out another mouthful of blood and grinned back at the guy — a promise of death in his eyes.

Whoever had sent this pathetic excuse of a man to finish him had to mean it more as an insult rather than intend actual damage. The man was almost pissing himself for god’s sake.

Only a few more seconds and then he could show the fucker what death truly felt like. The thought had barely formed in Everest’s head when an explosion shook the building, leaving the man off-balance and struggling to stay on his feet.

Everest pounced, ducking out of the gun’s way as he grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it until he heard a loud snap. The man screamed, dropping his weapon. Grabbing him by the back of his throat, he slammed the guy down and used the momentum to push himself up at the same time, swiping the gun into his fingers before it spun away.

By the time the wimp on the ground stopped moaning in pain long enough to figure out what had happened, there was a gun against his forehead.

“Please,” he begged immediately, face wretched and hands held together in a desperate plea, “don’t kill me. I had no choice.”

“Oh save me the bullshit, they never have a choice.” Everest bent down and tugged his phone out of his shoe, the tiny, disposable flip device merely for leaving one-time voice messages to his inner circle. Lifting it to his ear, he frowned at the blood coating his favorite shoes — staining the black leather beyond recovery.

“Thanks for the blast, boys,” he grinned into the device, winking at the man trembling on the ground before him, “give me ten minutes with this lovely chap and then home sweet home.”

He flipped the phone shut and dropped it to the ground, crushing it beneath his heel as he cocked his head at the man and shot him a cruel smile.

“I’d give you a last word but you’d be screaming too loudly to care.”

•••

  a little teaser before the real show starts.

~ zoha ♡