No Rest for the WickedMature

 

Reaper

Blood heavily seeped through the makeshift bandage as I quickly redressed the wound. The bus bathroom I was in, had not been made for such a procedure but it would have to make due. With the bullet removed and the wound dressed, I pulled my shirt and jacket back on, opening the door. Public transport was not my first choice to reach my contact, Yeltz, but time was of the essence and running across Moscow wouldn't be smart. Taking my seat, I starred out the window at the passing city lights. Whoever sent that team after me must have had something to do with either NATO or the CIA. Hell, I had already killed one of their operatives while completing Fishner's assassination. The bus bumped and jerked winding it's way through the packed streets. A small child began to cry, aggitating an already growing headache.

Everything was scattered, broken pieces of a puzzle and now this buisness card. Pulling the now bent white card from my pocket, I examined it again. No identifying marks linking him with any ageny or buisness, not even a phone number, just the name Lucas Johnson. No doubt whoever this Lucas man was he had connections in high places to get an ex-spetznaz operative to go after him. I pressed my head against the icy window and let out a sigh, it had all been so much simpler before Mogadishu. The bus slammed on it's brakes jamming my injured shoulder into the seat before me. I cursed loudly, catching the attention of some nearby passengers but I payed no attention to them. This was my stop, just outside Yeltz's flat in the inner city. Standing, I pushed my hand into my jacket pocket and on the handle of my pistol, you never knew what could happen.

As I exited the bus, I dropped 1500 Roubles into the drivers open hand.Leaving the warmth of the bus for the icy russian wind and snow that nipped at my face and froze my insides. To me, having lived here most of life it was paradise, I doubted the tourists would agree. Chuckling at the idea of Ghost surviving in a Russian winter, I entered the flat and walked directly to the elevator. Yeltz's flat was near the top of the twenty story building, he was a man who enjoyed a view. The elevator ride up was uneventful except for the occasional groan of the lift's cables. A small bell chimed in the empty silence signaling the doors to open. I took a few steps towards Yeltz's door and stopped, it was slightly cracked open. My attention and senses instanly shifted into overdrive. I analyzed the door and noticed scratch marks around the handle, someone had broken in and had been sloppy. Drawing my pistol, I kicked the door in and checked my corners. 

The main room was firnished with golden furnature and fur rugs, the walls accented by pictures of Tsars past. Most of the room seemed untouched except one vase that was spilled onto the floor, a bouquet of roses scattered. That sent up a waring flag in my head, Yeltz may have only been a contact but he was a neat freak, if everything wasn't in its proper spot he'd have to fix it immediatly. Turning to my right, I entered the kitchen and  moved to a hallway, it lead to Yeltz's study. A scuffling noise escaped into the air from behind the door. Bringing up my foot, I jammed it against the door, busting the hinges and sending the wooden door into the room. A man yelped and fell into a bookcase on the wall opposite of me. He was about 5' 6" with chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes, my sight flicking to the submachine gun strapped across his torso.Placing the barrel of my pistol to his temple, I threw the man to the ground and placed a boot atop his throat. He coughed and sputtered, his arms going for his gun at a slowed pace.

"No, no!" I taunted flipping the pistol in my grasp, grabbing the barrel, and smashing it's handle into his face. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, unconscious on impact. I roughly grabbed the submachine gun from the man and checked the rest of the room. To my sorrow and dismay, Yeltz's body was laying against a wall, his skull busted open like a watermelon. I bowed my head for a moment, he was a good contact and an even better friend, the killer was going to pay! Returning to the unconscious killer, I strapped him into the nearby office chair. Wrapping him in a combination of rope and duct tape. I turned my attention to Yeltz's cherry wood desk. There had to be an interrogation kit in one of the drawers. After ransaking the prized desk I found what I was looking for, in the bottom left drawer was a small bag. It contents including various dugs, needles, knives, and cables. I grinned, this was going to be one torture session I'd enjoy immensly.

Twenty minutes passed before the man began to stur, he now had a large purple bump on his head where my pistol had struck him. The man's eyes flutterd, finally blinkling open. I stood before him leaning on an adjacent wall, cloaked by shadows in the room. His face transitioned from surprise to fear and anxiety.

"What's your name?" I asked in Russian. The man looked in my direction and fidgeted. A few seconds passed and he didn't answer. Into the light, I brought up my hand clutcing a syringe, it was filled with a clear liquid, chemical cocktail. His eyes fixated on the shimmer of the needle but still he didn't speak. Taking a few steps from the shadows, I neared him. The needle hovered over his restrained arm as the man strained to lean away..

"Last Chance," I asked again. He shut his eyes and shook his head, tight lipped. With no sense of gentleness, I stabbed the needle deep into his veins. The man cried out, shifting and straining wildly against his restraints, to no avail.

"You have about 5 minutes to live," I said calmly " you just recived a leathal dose of tetrodotoxin. Now I have the antidote right here." I raised a different syringe. " Spill it all! Who you are, who you work for, and who..." I pulled out the business card and held it before his trembling eyes. " Is Lucas Johnson?" His jaw quivered as the man struggled to decide to speak or die. Finally he chose, hanging his head in shame the man gave up the information.

"My name is Lucas Johnson, I contracted the ex-spetznaz operatives to go after you and kill you. I...I'm employed by...." he changed his mind and switched the subject. "I'm a part of Project Black Light." I cocked my head, never had I heard of any project Black Light, Lucas continued. "I was employed by Erin Nasedkin to stearilize all of your assets here in Russia, including you and your contact. Erin will be on the train to Ottawa in four days." His eyes stared intently on my face trying to detect his face from my expression. I scowled causing him to shiver.

"Is that all?" I growled playing with the syringe in my hand. Lucas nodded his head very quickly. 

"Yes! Yes that's it! They didn't tell me anything else, I swear!" A cold sweat dripped from his brow onto the blood stained carpet. I nodded, taking in all the information and stood. Removing the first syringe, I replaced it with the second one. Lucas let out a sigh of relief but his eyes locked in place. His breathing grew heavy and his eyes bulged in their sockets. I smiled menacingly at Lucas as his face turned purple. 

"Oops, did I mix up the syringes?!" I mocked in fake surprise. Lucas opened his mouth to speak but his breath caught in his throat and asphyxiated him. Spinning on my heel I left the flat and took the quick ride down the elevator. Flipping open my phone, I pressed the speed dial. 

"Yuri." The voice replied. 

"Get me a flight to Ottawa, now!" My voice was tense and stressed as I flagged a cab. 

"Done," He replied. I killed the conversation and shouted to the cabbie. 

"To Moscow International Airport! Fast as you can!" The driver slammed on the gas and the horn, weaving through traffic. 

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The flight to Ottawa was long, boring and uneventful. After the aircraft had landed, I hurried to the train station. Only one train was scheduled to arrive and that was where I was headed. The locomotive eased into the station with a loud hiss, tired and bored passengers disembarked as others stepped inside. Since I hadn't purchased a ticket, I waited for the train guards to become distracted by a mother and her unruly toddler. Slipping on the train I moved through each car searching for Erin Nasedkin. As I entered the sixth car I noticed the target and sat a few seats back and on the opposite side. The train doors shut with a mechanical thunk and the train lurched forward, beginning to pick up more and more speed. When the train reached it's cruising speed a voice echoed over the intercoms.

"You may take off your seat belts." I rolled my eyes and  eyed Erin. Hold a dagger tightly in my right hand I stood and acted as if I were headed to the bathroom at the front of the train car. I passed one isle, then two and three. When I reached two isles from Erin a man to my left jabbed his right arm into my wrist. A sharp, cold pinch shot into my wrist snapping my attention to the man. I snarled when I saw Ghost's smug, grinning face. Before I could jab the dagger into Ghost's chest, the drug began to take it's effect. I stumbled to the ground as the world began to spin and blur, lights blazed into my eyes before a heavy weight pushed my eyelids shut. I was unconscious in under 30 seconds. 

The End

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