22:39pm (10:39pm)
Date; May 11th, 2018
Location: Belle Fiore Winery
1 hour and 21 minutes left..
Sloane Davenport
In a place so grand, there is no secure hiding spot.
Guaranteed, all you can do is run.
As long as he can't catch me, he can't kill me within the last hour.
My arms have become stiff, stretching into the same position of my guns pointed in front of a dark hallway. Night vision would be helpful, but at this moment I have to rely on my instincts rather than assumptions.
I've made it pass the second floor, constantly switching my body back and forth and with zero chest protection besides my built in bra.
Harry's not the type to be conspicuous but he sure knows how to shoot a bullet without hesitation.
He'll have to deal with my defense mechanisms that will have him laying on the dirty marble floor.
I'll return him the favor all those years ago when he took the one thing I loved the most.
The open door down the corridor swings back and forth, with the cold draft creating a haunting motion that creates more paranoia. I step forward with ease but with my guns still at large.
Using my leg, I kick it open and with fingers laying on the trigger, I set myself to fire open before I see the face of my enemy.
However, the dining room is empty. But I won't abandon it too soon with all of the quietnes surrounding every corner. I take one step forward as my heels click against the wood.
My dress drags along behind me and with my long AR as my second piece of armor. The wavering of my eyes questioned every shadow in the dark night.
The sensation of my heightened anxiety and the millisecond of releasing a bullet all lies on the head of my enemy, who is now the one I'm chasing after. Figures.
Another sound picks up to my ears, coming to the left side of the room. The door leading to that side remains open and I pace my steps with caution.
But I stop abruptly before making myself too gullible for him. If anything, he'll want to take the next shot. I quickly take cover behind a wooden pillar draped with white linen.
With the door wide open, I can see the entrance that leads up to the main hall where our prom was being held. The bright-colored lights flash amongst the walls as the music has been abandoned by the DJ.
My hands don't break from the everlasting grip that is glued to my guns. Patience is wearing my ambition long enough for Harry to stutter.
However, God's timing couldn't come better than a tiny glare flashing towards my vision.
A glass plate in the shape of a circle is a dead giveaway with a hand big enough to grip the edges.
No doubt, I lift my gun up to my eyes and pull the trigger. Echoes of my bullets bounce to the inner walls of my ears to the entire room. The plate drops from him, shattering to the ground as I see a body retreat to the wall parallel to his last position.
I can't waste any more ammunition, but it was enough to scare the shit out of his ass.
I peek a small glance away from the pillar.
"You still alive, baby?" I shout with a smirk coming from the corner of my mouth. Silence awaits as there is no response.
A groan crawls from his mouth, but in the most uncharacteristic way of him.
It's his way for me to take the bait and his turn to fire back. I remain still until I see a foot come into my line of vision and his entire body stands up with such rapidity.
Flares from a gun blind my eyes. Numerous pops pound against the nature of the wooden pillar as small chunks fly beside my body. My elbows are tucked inside, my guns pointed up to each side.
It takes almost a round of bullets for Harry to unload trying to destroy a single pillar as my shield. But I can't stay hidden and let him creep closer with a gun to my forehead.
I take charge and fire my guns while I stand up from my crowded position. My index fingers pull the triggers back, as each bullet flies out from the side. His body doesn't appear anywhere as I see a leg lead off to the left of the ballroom.
I curse to myself as I let him get away, in addition to my semi-automatics turning into blanks now. There's only two detachable magazines attached to my body, but I have to be wise with where I'm going.
The last man standing always has the last bullet placed in the correct spot. You never carry an empty weapon in your hand.
Strutting down the hallway to the main room, I detach the blanks and reload as fast as my hands can mulit-task; my eyes peer everywhere to make sure he took the right turn into the floor. My next hiding spot is to the left as the door is kept wide open.
The aggravating pump of my blood to my heart increases. To every beat, my skin crawls with the cold anger that becomes bigger. I eventually take another deep inhale before I force myself back into the playing field.
One last exhale through my mouth and the guns are back to the sight of my left and right eye.
I face myself to the sight of the entrance, where a chaotic mess of traumatized memories will be haunted by the students here. Tables and chairs are pushed away, numerous plastic glass flutes spilled to the floor.
The musky aroma that was filled with sweat, perfume and other sprays that contaminated the air are now gone. Two steps forward and the color of LED lights fade back to the usual order of pink to red.
Two steps again and I find myself creeping to the middle of the dance floor. Sweet reticence lies around me, meaning that the battlefield has yet to be finished. My intuition is holding by my determination, sensing every object that hides a single body. I twist around while moving forward, stretching my guns further for better reaction to anything he might throw.
Heat flashes my body fast, adrenaline courses through all the tiniest veins that have yet to pop out.
This wasn't going to be an easy game, but I sure as hell won't let him win.
I etch myself close to the bar, where drinks are spilled and bar stools have fallen. There's temptation calling me, assuming that he has taken cover behind the wooden wall. And if I want to test those waters, I immediately point my guns to the tiny island and release a few bullets. Holes cut through easily. The echoes die out as I wait to see if Harry pulls the next move. I plan on firing another round that is until I see black pants flash to the side, swiftly to the next barrier.
I point my guns again, letting bullets fly the tables and walls. He arches down so that his entire body will be guarded through these obstacles. But after pinning my guns down and missing every step, I finally braze one to his left arm before he gets to the next room. I jiggle the magazine to estimate the amount of rounds left and I'm now left half a gun and an AR.
Discarding the empty gun, I inch closer to the doors. My body is against the bar of non alcoholic drinks spilled on the countertop and floor. To my surprise, there's something that keeps my hopes alive in this war zone.
They don't look as sharp as the one that I carry with me. But I can easily draw some blood on that pale skin of his.
The pair of small cutting knives are now in my possession as I tuck them to my strap where my favorite one was confiscated. He still doesn't know that he hasn't thrown it in my face at this point.
My time to recover is up; I pull towards the set of doors, pushing it with my heel. My gun is pointed straight by the time shots are fired from Harry, who's hiding behind the table on the far right near the tall stained glass windows. He aims for my head but I quickly duck and retreat to the pillar closest to me. I respond back, letting go of the last set of bullets from my small gun with him still fully loaded.
He continues to fire until no more bullets hit the wood. It takes one second for him to recover and a split of it for me to respond.
I move to a spot not too far from where his peripheral vision can blind him when he retreats to a different spot. But I don't hesitate to keep these knives longer than I expect to. It'd be a waste to not shed some blood with my skills.
My head pops up behind the corner pillar as I observe nothing. Patiently but eager enough to catch him in the open area, my fingers reach down for the knives, positioning them with a strong grip.
I stare straight, not even blinking until I see a single movement come from him.
And at the exact moment, I see his head, with a gun ready towards my old position. He continues to stare as he waits for me to fire there. Swiftly and with a small fear etched on to him, he finally stands and exits towards the center of the room.
Which gives me the perfect timing to creep out of hiding and release the knife.
I watch it fly straight to him, spearing so sharp that he is caught by the sudden surprise of me standing at the side.
Astonished by the knife that takes him out enough to make him fall, I attack him but without registering the gun to my hand.
Instead I use the last knife on my strap.
He tries attempting to recover as I'm charging towards him. His gun is not far from his reach, rushed by the moment I whip out my second blade and take two more steps before his fingers pull the trigger.
He's a second too late to react. By the time I approach him, I quickly slide onto the wooden floor, with my dress as a protection from a burn. My arm winds back and with full force, the knife slices through his jacket, cutting a horizontal tear. The gun immediately drops to the floor again.
When I finally slide past him and regain my feet to the floor by extending my left leg out and my right one bent down, I see Harry fall to my strengths. He clutches his arm where I cut him as crimson red is painted across his right side of the forehead.
His blood doesn't shed quickly, but he'll see more of it in a few moments.
With his face covered in the dark, I can feel his eyes pointing sharp daggers to me. I don't give any pity to his injuries. We don't waste any time as I attack him and this time his arm picks up the gun and fires. I swerve to the sides in a serpentine style, continuing to push every step I run towards the man and his gun.
The grip on my knife tightens. My next move goes accordingly planned- throwing it directly to his chest.
My fingers release it; the silver reflects from the moonlight shining through the window panes above us. In hopes of it hitting his chest, Harry's body moves with quick reaction this time as he pauses from firing his gun any further and dodges as the knife sticks to the wooden pillar behind.
Fuck. It's out of range for me to grab again.
Calling it a comeback to my knife hitting his skin, a bullet grazes my right arm, stinging a fast pain the my upper tricep.
Now what's left is just my AR gun strapped behind me which weighs me down everytime I move. I let my knees slide again but back to the tables where I once hid by hooking my left arm to one of table legs.
Harry doesn't fire back soon after I recover. Swinging the AR to the front of me and unlocking it, so I can register the magazine in place. I click it well enough to hear the spring inside to bounce and to catch my breath.
I've become vigilant in every aspect I could do. There's multiple voices in my head punching with pressure and disgrace, telling myself I need to finish this boy once and for all. I know I should be better with my target, even though it's harder to face someone who's identical with every move you make.
Out of every enemy I've come across, and out of all the people who have severe vendettas to me and my organization, only one decides to show some courage and take me out of hiding.
I'm too good to be forever known as a pussy who couldn't save her people. I intend to make the best out of every move that is calculated from the time I started stepping up for myself.
Nevertheless, I pick myself up, the last bit of defense weighing down in my arms and I follow him back into the arena.
Harry Styles
I've mostly played what should have gone easy at this point in our cat and mouse game, but she is one killer that knows how to bite back the same way I do.
Stained by my own blood in which no other target has done in a while, the stakes I have become much higher.
As I reload my pistol with what might be the last magazine I can contain for another few minutes or so, the only thought racing to my mind is how much more I can continue with little time left.
Creeping up behind the pillars of the ballroom floor, the array of the colored lights flash everywhere. The main lights are powered down for the moment once that fire alarm was pulled because the bomb Sloane left on.
The clever girl loves to get her hands on me especially in the most delicate places.
But she's never gonna see them again once her fingers become numb.
She's about to be on the hunt again and I need to find a good range to fire at her where she won't suspect me. We've chased each other almost everywhere in this winery except the main level floor. I quickly make my way down the stairs, carefully letting my shoes hit the marble steps.
Both hands are positioned with my gun tucked through my fingers, my breathing paces faster and faster. A small amount of adrenaline keeps up with me and I wish I had Carter's syringe on me so that way I could kick the literal shit out of her.
At this point, my feelings towards her are conflicting with my brain, battling back and forth. She is still there but the monster consuming her is what fueled in the first place. It's always my fault; I've got no one else to blame but the man who was designed to kill.
But she deserves to fight for what she lost. And I will do my best to contain whatever was unleashed in my doing.
After all, I'm untouchable and I show them no mercy.
By the time I reach down the middle level, the double doors from the ballroom knock wide open, creating an echo. The sound of heels clicking make their ways closer to the staircase and I quickly turn behind in a full 360, facing an angered Sloane with that goddamn AR strapped on her.
Just like any other angry faced teenager with a list to kill, she fires bullets down the stairwell. Knowing I'm not fast enough to go down each step one by one, I slide down the handrail, kicking my legs up so gravity can pull me with enough energy. Covering my head with my forearms, my pants make a smooth glide fast and avoid more injuries to endure. Bullets fly, sticking out from the walls and creating multiple dents well enough to make exit wounds meant for me. She even starts aiming for me miraculously, taking every open spot from the Birds Eye as I escape.
I can feel myself getting closer to the main level, letting go early and releasing my legs to land back on the floor. Marble is not a good ally as I can definitely slip while running but she's got more balls than me with her heels strapped on. I keep leading her on, breaking down the double doors to my left by loading my gun to the lock as I evacuate through there.
To my luck, I left with no bullets sticking to my skin or rather going through me. I've managed to gather my moves by the time she ruins them. Making my body numb through the pain of my newly made scars, I continue to push no matter how much blood I lose each second. Rather than my reputation, there's no one who I can do anything better than I can.
Forcing her to chase me is already a plan in motion, but the second step is always the trickiest of all. I gave her warnings and with her stubborn ass, she refused to give up. Knowing how she'd protect her agency's downhill of an organization, her chances of surviving out of here are the same to mine.
I close the double doors, expecting her to arrive by the time she comes down to find me again. My mind races, trying to come up with what I have or what's left besides my gun. It leads me to one other option which I haven't used since my old training days back at SIDD. I have to get rid of her defense mechanisms, causing her to throw herself back into the ring with me.
Stepping through the empty tables and chairs, I peek outside through the tall pane windows. There are no bystanders let alone the chaperones in charge of the students. I could assume that the party buses took them to the nearest safe spot away from here.
But that leaves another bump in the road with the police coming in.
Fucking perfect. Now I have to two birds to kill with and my stones are useless unless I have some miracle save my ass. I can't call for backup because takeouts are meant to kill one, not an entire team. And if you ask me, that just leaves another trace back to your gravestone.
Racing back to the double doors and leaning so that my ear touches the wood, I wait silently for the echo of her footsteps to come closer. Sweat precedes to drip amongst the blood on my forehead and it's time I lose the seven thousand jacket that's been making me warmer. I swipe the last bit that doesn't show the stain on the black as I roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt.
Loosening the tie as well, I discard them to the side of me and sense the click of heels crawling up my neck. My feet shuffle away from the middle of doors so when she kicks them open she won't look behind her, giving me a perfect strategy. My gun clutched in my hands like always; one breath in and another out.
Patience is running thin. All there is left is to find a way to get rid of her weapons and turn them against her. She is the sole reason why I've fucked up badly ever since I landed in this small wicked town.
I remind myself over and over again why a person like her can easily damage an individual who despises her in every way possible. After all, there wouldn't be no SIDD if CASTA wasn't such a fucking thorn in our asses.
A step bounces off the staircase floor. I take position with the gun pointed to the sky and hold my breath as a shot goes off through the middle of the doors; tiny wooden pieces flying off as she makes her way in. A swift kick to bring her delayed sense of action, a shadow appears as the moonlight shimmers onto her body. The long AR painted beside her with each growing moment becomes more clearer.
Sloane continues to keep it to her eye level, swiveling to her left and then slowly to her right. My appearance to her is camouflaged by the darkness, no light to help her as she is easily blindsided and ignores whatever is behind.
Bingo.
With her mind easily too focused on what's in front, I begin to make my move from the back of her. The floor doesn't creak, giving me a good opportunity to start lurking and no doubt that my shoes will make more noise than hers. Each step Sloane takes I take forward. I can feel my heart beating faster time, my eagerness displaying in each breath while I try to remain calm. I've done this numerous times but something is just pulling my intrusive thoughts harder and harder.
My own obstruction is what causes me to stare at her backless dress, her pale skin covered in a simple black material. And that fucking silt opening up to reveal her leg with a knife holster. I wonder how many times she's used that on my colleagues who were easily appeased by the slightest bit of skin but rather what's further up than that. I'm a lucky son of bitch to be the only one that got into CASTA's most secretive territory.
But this intrusion got a lot worse than I expected. She suddenly halts in front and takes her AR and shifts her hands away from her trigger. It whips from her face to the back of her, in this case to me who clearly didn't see it coming. I dodge it before it can do more damage to my head and like a cat's reflexes I forcefully kick the gun out of her hand. It lands far enough near the tables, smashing table settings and glasses among the way.
She's left with nothing now to make this game more in my favor. I lift my gun up to her and try to fire quickly, but she's beaten me with another blow to my chest using her leg. It causes me to become unbalanced and she kicks me again but this time at my hand. The gun flies off somewhere as I grunt at the pain caused by her death trap of a heel.
In another split second Sloane throws her fists to me, as defined myself. A one on one with no accessories needed. She misses her punches and I quickly get back by faking my swing but using the lower half of my legs to kick her knee causing her to fall.
I smirk down at her as she lands on her ass. Her face doesn't show directly at mine as she looks at the wooden floor.
"Might as well make you kiss my dick while you're down there." I say to her, my cocky attitude arising out of nowhere.
It fuels her to fight fair in this game as she spins herself with her leg flexed and hits my foot. I automatically fall on my ass to her impressive comeback. The tail end of my behind becomes rock hard by the impact of the blow. I grunt in agony with my body facing the ceiling.
My eyes react a second too late as an object interferes and hits the side of my head hard. And then an image of knuckles comes to my sight, taking a harder blow then the last one.
More blood begins to spill from the cuts of my mouth, and from my scar that is possibly reopened again.
I'm seeing nothing but shadows and the inducing pain caused by high heels and vanilla cherry perfume.
"If you're gonna play this game Harry, you're gonna have to be a lot harder for me because I'm just getting started."
The seductiveness in her voice calls to me. Sloane no longer wears her fears but now has used them to light that anger she's been holding off. If she wants to play more, then I'll show her what I can do best.
This is what it all goes down to.
Motivated by her entitleness, I start to get from my knees and only stare directly to her face. She's formed her hands back into fists, turning white as she remains levelheaded. Using my hand to wipe the blood from my mouth, I don't take a second to reevaluate my desicions. Licking my lips with the taste of cold metal, I look straight to her eyes pinning her down in a bull's pen. A grin precedes to show on my face and my hands form into closer fists once again.
Let's dance.