Warning:
Graphic violence and a dose of sexual inclination, but not explicit.
PG-13.
Disclaimer:
Here's a piece of old, old, stale news. The characters below
to
Marvel, and I'm not gaining a penny from this. But I don't mind.
It's my passion!
:)
Note: Yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a three-parter, but heck,
no.
It's too long to be a single chapter, so I tho't I'd do it to a four. :)
Enjoy!
FREE FOR A SECOND
Part Three
Vicki Lew
June 1997
The bottle fell to the ground with a loud thud, spilling its contents
on
the wooden floor rapidly and filling the small motel room with the fragrant
smell of
bourbon whiskey. She just looked sadly at the mess on the floor,
but made no move to clean it;
just balanced herself precariously on the
chair on two of its four legs while her feet were kicked
up on the desk
before her.
Rogue settled for the bottle of Absolut Vodka that was on
the desk instead,
her unsteady hand groping at air due to her alcohol-induced
double-vision.
After much squinting and pawing, she finally grabbed the bottle by the
neck
and took a hearty swig from it.
"Ah...neeeed oolivesss with thisss..."
She hiccupped and chuckled at the
odd sound. "Ya broken rule number 4.5,
Sabby...'Sobriety keepsss ya
alive.'...Ain't that g-gonna be a problem if ya doesn't wanna stay
that
way?"
The drunk woman laughed neurotically, jolting so much that the
whole chair
fell backwards with her in it. The crash hardly affected her as she lay on
the
floor, her hair and suit slightly wet from the whiskey puddle there.
Her mood swing took a
dramatic turn as her laughter dissolved into tears;
soon she was heaving with sobs and pulling at
her hair. After a while,
Rogue crawled her way to her equipment case, and pulled out her
favourite
civillian automatic pistol.
"Hi, baby..." She held the weapon to
her breast and ran a finger down its
barrel. "Ah'm c-countin' on ya t'take me on a-a good
ol' ride,"
Her trigger-finger found its usual nook with familiar routine and
the
assasin had it held to her head in a flash. She ground her jaw and hummed
quietly to
herself, her head nodding, nodding...
"If ah'm gonna get killed, ah'm gonna do it
myself, thank y'all kindly!"
she hissed as she turned suddenly and fired at the hitman who
had been
stalking her by the window, ready to shoot her down. He hit the deck a
split
second before the bullets shattered the window and cursed. He was so
sure that she would be
too drunk to notice anything and that she would be a
piece of cake to get rid of.
Guess he was
wrong.
**********************************************************
Michael
Kirst crawled towards the door admidst all the shooting and did a
dash to break it open; his
body burst into the room as the door gave way,
but he was still in action. He fired his gun at his
target, but his aim
came a little too late, she had already taken cover behind the table
that
she had kicked over as a barracade. Cursing under his breath, he knew that
he was
about to be a sitting duck unless he found some shelter quick.
Rogue gave a yell and fired
away before he even had the chance to move and
one of her bullets caught him in the right leg.
She smiled in
self-satisfaction, but it soon faded as the alcohol in her blood kicked in
hard
and sent her pitching once again onto the hard wooden floor.
She felt a little panic,
something she hadn't known in a while, when she
found it almost impossible to get up. She
realized groggily that this man
was a Watcher, assigned to keep her in check during each of
her
assignments. Every active assasin never ever saw who their Watcher was,
until their day
of termination. Of all people, it had to be Michael Kirst,
the man who'd been a pain ever since
the day they'd had to share training
back at the academy. He'd be more than happy to cut her
throat for all the
embarassment she'd caused him.
Almost as soon as she hit the floor,
Kirst scrambled towards the fallen
woman, kicking the gun away, then connected his good leg
to her stomach
hard. Her brain registered the pain and she silenced the cry that caught
in
her throat, the old assasin's practice of suffering in silence kicking in.
"That's
for nailing my leg, bitch." The other assasin growled as he grabbed
her hair
violently and slapped her hard. "And that, is for outdoing me in
the
tests,"
"Oh yeah, one more thing," He grabbed her and kissed her
roughly. "It's for
humiliating me in front of the other guys, hayseed,"
Rogue
spit into his face, but he was oddly calm even then. The man pinned
her down on the ground,
took out some rope and began to bind her wrists and
feet tightly, so much that she thought she
would lose all sensation in her
limbs.
"And now, for jeopardizing the
assignment, the organization would like to
deliver you your retrenchment present,"
Michael took out a hunting knife
and laid the blade to her cheek. "You aren't so hot after
all, are you,
Sabby? You made the biggest mistake of all, getting drunk. Or maybe
you
were waiting for someone to come kill you? Yeah, that might just be me,
your angel of
Death,"
He chuckled softly to himself. "But first, a little fun," He drew
the knife
down her face to the neckline of her bodysuit and made a little slice
there,
exposing her upper chest. "You always had a sexy body, Sabine. You
got no idea what
you missed out on when you turned me down,"
His hands roamed to her chest and
made lecherous little caresses.
Rogue clenched her jaw and fumed silently, waiting for him
to try and kiss
her again...Sure enough, his head lowered and she went for it. Kirst fell
to
the floor when she butted his face with her head, his nose bleeding and
broken from the
impact.
"Ahhh!!! You slut!!!" He tried to swipe at her, but the adrenaline and
rage
boiling in her veins kept her a little faster than before; she dodged the
blow. Yes,
despite the drink in her system, she was doing very well at
breaking rule 4.5, whereas Kirst had
failed miserably in the silence
department.
The knife gleamed in the soft light as she
snatched it up and stuck it into
the floor. Rogue sawed her bonds free shakily, and retrieved the
knife,
ready to defend herself. She whipped round in time to see the cloud of
smoke that
flocked around the barrel of the gun that Michael had fired.
Gasping as the pain shocked her
senses, she collapsed, stunned by the
impact.
He guffawed in her face now, blood
leaking from his nose and disfiguring
his handsome face. Rogue saw now how much
appearances could be deceiving;
she was one of those pretenders. Her whole life was a
lie...
"I gotcha now, girl. I'm gonna rape you and then throw your corpse down
a
cliff. How's that sound to you?" Michael grinned lopsidedly as he began to
rip her
suit open.
"No..." Flashes of the past hit her hard; she whimpered. Rogue
reached up
to claw at his face, but he cruelly dug his hand into the bullet wound in
her right
shoulder. She clenched her jaw, stubbornly keeping her silence.
She wasn't going to let this
piece of shit do this to her. She was
different. She hated the killing. Michael was different;
bloodthirsty and
trigger-happy,
taking lives as if it were nothing more significant than the
action of
wiping the blood off his hands.
"Ah ain't gonna let ya do this
t'me!!" she spat with renewed angst.
There was a new cry of pain as Rogue twisted
her other concealed dagger
into Kirst's ribs; he howled agian and tried to take it out, but in
vain.
Rogue forced herself to focus, and used her foot to lodge the weapon
further into his
body maliciously. He let out a choked gasp of agony.
Budging the man off her, Rogue
locked her arm around his neck, ready to
break it. But she wasn't going to stoop that low;
instead she snarled into
his ear,
"Ah can't believe HQ sent a loser like ya t'babysit
me...They must be
gettin' senile in their old age, don'cha think, Mikey?"
Kirst
attempted to attack her again, but she twisted the knife in his gut.
His eyes turned white from the
torture.
"Ya ain't good enough, Kirst. HQ should've turned you out from
the
beginnin', ain't never once that ya did well on your own, always takin'
credit for things
that don't even belong t'you. Ah'm never gonna kill
again, not even you...Ah'm never goin' down
that road again,"
He stared at her, eyes burning with venom.
"You're not gonna get out that easy, Sabine. Ain't no way out but dying. If
I
killed you, I'd be doing you a favour."
"Shut up, Kirst!" Rogue blinked
rapidly at her double-vision. The moment
the adrenaline in her body settled down, the effects of
alcohol drugged her
again. It was a dangerous situation this time.
Kirst saw the
wavering of her stance and the loosening of her arm around
his neck; he barely kept his smug
smile as he reached discreetly for the
whiskey bottle that had fallen on the floor earlier.
"No, I think you'll shut up!!" With a savage cry, he smashed the
bottle
against her head. Her body slumped limp and he shoved her off roughly, and
like a
five-year-old boy, felt very pleased about himself.
Kirst staggered and picked up the
hunting knife on the floor. This was
going to be an easier kill than he thought after all. Bending
over Rogue's
prone body, he held the blade to her throat, drawing blood as it cut into
her
flesh slowly.
"I'm gonna enjoy this, sweet Sab--"
His sentence got
cut off by a loud crash of glass; a dark figure swooped in
through the window and swiftly turned
a full circle before connecting one
strong leg to Kirst's
jaw.
**********************************************************
I
growled as I smashed de man's face in and kicked him behind the knee.
"Hit a
woman, boy? Remy don' like dat one bit. 'Specially when I care
f'her," I side-stepped as
de bloody man lunged at me wit' his huntin'
knife. "You ain't a man, an' I'll kill ya for
hurtin' Rogue!"
I executed kick after kick to his chest, breakin' his ribs in de
process,
leavin' him half-dead. I would've killed him, if it weren't for Rogue. She
was barely
conscious, but I heard her callin' me weakly, tellin' me not
t'fall to dis son-of-a-bitch's level.
She be right.
I dropped him and moved to Rogue instead, pickin' her up gently
in my arms
and took her away from his vile
presence.
***********************************************************
To
be
continued...