Thread: Killing in the Name of... (Closed for ShadesOfGrey)

So very close... Ivan watched the man whom he had hunted for the past three years stride across the street. It's cliche, but I can taste it. Brown eyes tracked the man like a hawk as he entered Cafe Soho. A chiq coffee place just across the street from one of the many office buildings in downtown Dallas, Texas. As soon as the man entered the cafe, Ivan folded his paper, paid the tab for the few coffee's and bottles of water he had downed. He walked with a purpose, but not hurried enough to attract any attention, towards the alley behind Soho that he knew the man would enter into in a few minutes from the back entrance of the cafe. The intelligence was solid, written in blood, Ivan thought to himself with a slight smirk. The smirk disappeared as his mind rewound to the event that made this killing a requirement for him to proceed with his life. He had gone out for a smoke, a simple cigarette that was supposed to kill him in seventy years had saved his life. The explosion behind him had deafened, shocked, concussed, and nearly ripped his heart in half. The other physical ailments he had gotten over within weeks, the emotional injury still had it's talons dug in deep after all these years. Since then he'd killed others, so many others, to try and make the hurt go away, but all it had done was led to a lack of trust in his supervisors. He had taken the quick, dirty, merciless route out of that organization. Killing his immediate supervisor, one of the few people who actually knew him, and disappearing from the face of the earth to everyone else. Then he had taken jobs, disgusting, brutal, nearly pointless jobs that had finally gotten him within sight of Miguel Carabado. The man who had murdered his wife, children, and morality. As he walked into the alley, a last glance behind him brought a flashback so strong he stared for a moment longer then usual. Was that... No it could not be her. It cannot be my Amelia. From there on it was business. Ivan turned back to the alley and stepped into a dark outcropping between two of the crooked buildings. Waiting patiently, and pulling his perfectly honed K-Bar military grade knife. This will not be slow and painless for you Miguel. It will be everything you have done to me, and much, much more. As Miguel stepped from the Cafe, timed seemed to slow, and as the short, fat man walked towards him time seemed to stretch to eternity. When Ivan stepped from his spot, somehow, time grew even slower. Just over Miguel's shoulder, it was easy enough for the tall Russian spy to see over the short Latino, Amelia appeared again. NO! Shouted Ivan's brain, It is NOT her you fool! His heart was in disbelief, and then once again a solid cube of ice. No, it is not her... But it was someone who looked very much like her, and she was holding a small caliber handgun, affixed with a silencer, probably loaded with subsonic rounds, it would be very quiet. The gun was pointed towards him, no, towards Miguel Carabado. NO. Ivan snarled, not finishing the rest of his thought He is mine! As he lunged towards the killer of his family and brought his knife up at the same time. The moments pause had given the short man time enough to back up half a step, and that half a step saved his life as Ivan's blade cut his thick leather jacket diagonally down Miguel's chest, instead of plunging into his throat. The desperate lunge placed Ivan off balance, which he recovered from fast enough to not fall, but not fast enough to stop his target from racing by, and not fast enough to dodge or see the small bullet that thudded into his shoulder and spun him against the wall. Now he was caught between two things he very much wanted to do at the same time. Kill the bitch, or kill the killer of his family. One look at the girl, and he knew he had to distract her before he could kill Miguel, Miguel would be the target, but now he had to worry about her. She held the weapon confidently, aiming steadily towards Miguel, she was the threat. With a grunt of pain, and effort, Ivan hurled the over sized knife at her, his new target. She was far enough away, and aware enough to have it miss her entirely, but now Miguel was no longer in range for an accurate shot, and Ivan was drawing his own gun. A suppressed .22, with it's own silencer and subsonic rounds. Perhaps even quieter than the new targets, but not nearly as powerful. His rounds were so tiny they would go through the target, not damaging much, nor throwing her against a wall as her weapon had. The only advantage Ivan had, was a few more rounds in the magazine. He took full advantage of that, firing a barrage of six bullets. Which left him with eleven more remaining in the seventeen round magazine. Those forced the new target to move, to duck into cover. Now that she was busy returning fire, Ivan moved to better cover, further from her, and closer to Miguel. Then the new target did something strange. She leaped, grabbed a low hanging fire escape and raced up the steps, then darted towards Miguel's direction. For a moment Ivan didn't understand, and then he did. Miguel was her target, and he was just a bother as she was to him, but she felt no need to kill him. For a moment he felt something, but quickly he pushed it away as he suddenly felt the blood dripping down his arm from the shoulder wound. Fucking bitch... Darting down the alley way he heard the snaps above his breathing and feet pounding the concrete. She was shooting at Miguel, but now that the target was moving and she was at a different angle, it was a hard shot. Not one Ivan was sure he could even make on the move. At the end of the alley way several things happened at once. The woman dropped from the rooftop, twisted around a convenient flag poll, and lightly flipped onto the ground. She took a breath, and aimed carefully at Miguel. She would have had him, but Ivan was too close. With a roar he charged his shoulder into hers. The lack of weight surprised him as his mind had forgotten she was a woman, and not another assassin. The light body went flying and flipping as her last shot careened into the cement. It was her last shot, Ivan heard the slide lock to the rear, and saw it as he looked first to the gun, then to her face. Dios mio... Amelia? Up close, the resemblance was uncanny, until he found her eyes. Those, those were too different not loving and soft, but hard like Ivan's. Their eyes met, and then they both traveled to the small pistol Ivan had aimed between the woman's eyes. Don't get in my way again. He said, deadpanned. Before racing into the crowded street. Fuck. Miguel was gone. Too many people, his shoulder was bleeding too fast, months wasted. I should go kill the bitch. But when he turned back to the alley, she was gone. - It was months later and Ivan had once again tracked Miguel to a city. It was better than not knowing what country, but it was Miami. Millions of people lived here and in the surrounding cities. It would take time, and he was taking it slowly, making sure that the damned idiot would not get lucky again. This club, Green Edge, was a great place in Miami to get information about the underbelly of the city. It wasn't nice enough for the big bosses, so there was no security, but it also wasn't dirty enough for the really low lives to get comfortable. The middle management of the drug industry was here. Captain's, lieutenant's, sergeant's, the people that made sure day-to-day operations went on without a hitch, but still didn't really get their hands into the actual drug deals. Sipping a Corona, Ivan watched and listened, mostly watching the girls, mostly listening to the 'soldiers.'