This is for the "side-characters." contest run by JFW1415.
Ashley stopped in her tracks and held her breath mid-exhale. She was certain she’d seen something stir in the mist that lingered around her, drifting slyly across the dark railway. However brief it had been, she was very sure she’d seen it from the corner of her eye. Her lungs began to protest, and she slowly drew in air, trying her best to remain motionless and silent.
She stepped forward, shingles shifting under the soles of her shoes, and closed her eyes briefly. It was a useless reflex, and she knew it. Right, good going Ash, she thought, like that’s going to keep them from finding me.
She swallowed slowly, her trained gaze sliding over the dimness with a scrutinizing eye for detail. Her pulse quickened, the hairs in the back of her neck standing on end, when a soft click echoed through the tunnel. Wishing more than ever that the ‘I can’t see you so you can’t see me’ childhood illusion worked in real life she remained as still as she could, only her eyes darting to catch a glimpse of someone. It was easier now that she could look out for the moon's reflection off the barrel of a gun. The click had been easy to identify, tje sound unmistakable.
There! A slight movement was evident several meters to her right, and she couldn’t stop the automatic reaction of turning her head in the direction of the motion. On second thought she concluded that it was a good thing, for it gave her the chance to examine the surrounding shadows in more detail.
Her gaze scanned the seemingly abandoned railroad tunnel and the deserted car that stood beside the rails, windowless and stripped of all useful components. Both were as dark and menacingly tranquil as they had been several minutes ago, when she’d determined the tunnel seemed sufficiently secure to pass through. No motion was apparent anywhere around her, for now, but Ashley knew better than to foolishly assume that she was alone in the tunnel at this moment in time. Who would know better than her that situations can change drastically in a mere instant?
Her hand slid gradually towards the concealed holster, the pace so gentle that if whoever it was that she’d seen wanted her dead, they’d have the chance to execute her five times over before she reached her firearm. If she continued this slowly, that is. Her reflexes were trained, and if necessary she could react in the time span of a second, drawing her gun and shooting-to-kill in no time. All she needed was something to react to. The danger was imminent, so present that Ashley could almost taste it, the dark bitterness of jeopardy seeping into her taste buds as she inhaled without a sound.
Her hand was now slipping into the warmth of her jacket, nearing the firearm that was strapped to her side, just below her armpit. Her breath clouded before her light-skinned face as her gaze darted from shadow to shadow, desperate for an indication of where her unwanted company was hiding.
Two thuds, followed by an annoyed grunt, were her cue to duck and draw her weapon in one swift well-revised motion. She crouched, edging towards the meter-high embankment that ran parallel to the railway. Her heart raced as she felt goose bumps come up all over her body.
She jumped when something small scurried by. Aiming her gun at the rat that darted back into the shadows, she shook her head. The animal was as startled by her as she had been by him. Relaxing she rested her arm on her knee, the gun sitting comfortably in her hand. It had been warmed by her body heat, and felt like it belonged in the palm of her hand. She waited, gently tapping her index finger against the trigger.
Menacing silence prevailed again, and as she continued to move towards the embankment she strained her ears to catch even the smallest of sounds that could indicate an attack. She glanced down at her army boots, never ceasing to be surprised at her ability to travel in near silence whilst wearing such large and inelegant footwear, and carefully placed them on either side of semi-interred glass shards that glistened in the soil below. She had left the shingle traintracks, moving swiftly over slightly humid soil whose scent was heavy and unpleasant.
The reflex was rapid. Ashley found herself standing, spinning around, her gun aimed at a point between the man’s eyes. He appeared surprised, his lips parted slightly, forming an astounded ‘o’. Despite his baffled appearance he, too, had reacted rapidly. His lips closed, giving his face a sudden no-nonsense appearance. The gun in his hand reflected the moonlight, the dark hole of the barrel facing Ashley. She allowed herself to take a swift look at it, taking her gaze off his face. Just for a second, which was all she needed to identify the weapon, her eyes focused on the revolver. A Smith & Wesson semi-automatic, she noted, the elegant circular logo all too familiar. He owned the exact brand and type of gun as she did.
She set one foot slightly to the right, farther away from the other, steadying herself. The situation had just gotten worse. These guns are specially made for the Agency, she thought as her eyes met his. Either he’s one of us, or he’s killed one of us and taken the weapon. There was only one option she had left, and she glanced around, ensuring that she was alone with him.
“Paradox.” She spoke clearly, her tone cold. The man blinked, the leather-gloved hand that held the gun lowering several centimeters. She waited, counting the seconds. The Agency had ways to guarantee that their own agents wouldn’t accidentally perceive each other as enemies, using code words as a security precaution. If he replied properly she’d know she was dealing with one of her own. The code words were reset once a week as an extra safety measure, sent directly to the agent’s personal laptops through email. Needless to say they were in an encrypted state to avoid successful interception.
She continued counting in her head, and to her relief noticed he was almost imperceptibly nodding his head every second. He, too, was counting. Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty. He lowered his gun, stating. “Corporeal.”
Correct. She lightened her grip on the revolver, casually slipping it into its holster. Tilting her head to the right she eyed him. “Mission?”
“Yes, you?”
His voice was pleasant, a kind undertone speaking volumes about his goodhearted nature. He was a man she’d trust from the moment he said a single word.
“Always.”
He gave a slight nod of agreement, then turned on his heels and walked away. She watched him leave, keeping her eyes on his back until he vanished into the mist. It wasn’t often that she encountered a fellow agent, for Agency policy required that they worked solo on all missions. The unexpected meeting left her momentarily distracted, staring into the fog, wondering where he’d gone.
Pebbles shifted somewhere close to her, and she yanked her gun out of the holster. Crouching behind the embankment she scanned the dark tunnel. It couldn’t be the agent, for he’d make his presence known to her if he returned. Ashley narrowed her eyes.
A short reflection of moonlight. Feet pounding the shingles. A massive being lunging forward in her direction. Her back struck solid rock, and she moaned as her lungs were emptied of their contents. Breathing in sharply she cocked her gun. A rough hand closed tightly around her right wrist, slamming it into the stone wall with force. Wild eyes stared at her, full of more rage than she had ever seen before. Fear flashed through her abdomen, adrenaline and panic racing through her veins as she failed to free herself.
She struggled, smashing her elbow into the bearded face. The soft cartilage shifted under the strike, and sticky blood began to run down his lips and hair-covered chin almost instantaneously. For a second his grip loosened. Before she could yank herself free the strength returned to his muscles, his palm putting tremendous pressure on her wrist. She felt her hand scream for circulation, gasping in pain. Twisting under his grip she tried to duck, kept standing by his grip on her right arm. Cold metal touched the side of Ashley’s neck, the pressure concentrated on the sharp tip of the blade.
“Don’t move.” The command was short, snappy, and said in an unrealistically low intonation. Ashley froze in place, her muscles tight as her gaze lifted to the twisted expression of her attacker. Blood dripped from his beard, pouring from his oddly shaped nose.
“You an agent?” He asked, his lips curling into a terrifying grin.
She didn’t reply.
“Answer.” Ashley had never assumed that a single word could hold so much authority, and cowered.
“Yes! I’m an agent!”
Training prohibited the exposure of your true identity, though it was permitted to disclose your job. Sometimes it was simply necessary to maintain any kind of control in the situation. Answer the questions, do as you’re told, and wait until you have the chance to escape. Stay calm. By all means, Ashley, stay calm.
“Then I guess it’s my lucky day.” The frightening grin broadened, baring more unusually squared teeth, stained red by the blood from his broken nose. He changed the angle of the knife, holding it to her neck from above.
“You seem young to be one of them murdering bastards. I ain’t never seen an agent this puny. How the hell old are you?”
She clenched her left fist, waiting for the right moment to take her chances with fate. “I’m seventeen.”
“Seventeen after training? Damn, you were thirteen when they entered you into the programme? Fucking losers, they are.” His expression turned, his lips pressed together firmly. He appeared to be furious about what she’d just told him, the merciless rage dissipating.
Ashley hesitated, ready to push aside his knife arm and hold it away from herself. It was an easy block she'd practiced countless times, though this would be the first time she used it in a harmful situation. Her thoughts raced. He could’ve killed me already if that’s his intention. What is he on about? How does he know so much about the Agency? What the hell does he want?
“Too bad you’re only a kid, but I suppose it’ll make the message clearer.” The horrid grin returned as he increased the pressure on the knife, the tip of the blade slicing through skin. Ashley clenched her teeth, warm blood trickling down her neck. Shivers ran down her spine, the warmth of the blood a gruesome contrast with the biting cold of the night air. He'd created a shallow cut that stung and throbbed with every heartbeat, but Ashley knew that without much more pressure it could become life threatening.
“Drop the gun.”
Her numb fingers barely responded as she tried to open her hand, and the knife dug deeper into her flesh. Pain flashed through her, and she let out a short sound of agony.
“Now.”
She felt the weight slip from her powerless fingers, the body-heat temperature of her gun replaced by the frigid air. Let it hit the ground and fire. Let it shoot him. It was beyond unlikely, closer to impossible, but it was hope she clung onto for dear life as her chances of survival diminished. Seconds later the sound of metal smashing into rock echoed through the tunnel, the firearm sliding over the shingles. It came to a stop as it skidded against her boot. No gunshot sounded. Ashley caught her lip between her teeth, biting just enough to make it hurt but not sufficiently to draw blood. What I need, she thought, is a miracle.
“When you get to hell, send me a postcard.” He laughed hollowly, the low sound bouncing back and forth between the walls of the tunnel. Ashley swallowed heavily, her breathing shallow.
“Please… Please don’t kill me.”
“Now now, I’d expect more fighting spirit from an Agency representative. I reckon your lack of courage rooted itself in you because you were recruited at such a young age. Maybe they’ll realize their mistake when your corpse is left on their doorstep. And don’t forget that postcard, because one day I’ll join you there. You don’t want to face me without having sent it.”
He’s insane. He’s lost his mind. He’s psycho. Ashley was unable to rip her gaze loose from his crazy expression; the evil grin, frenzied eyes and broken nose held it in place. He knows I'm afraid. I need to snap out of it. I need my concentration if I expect to survive.
He clenched his teeth, baring them in a monkey-fear grimace. “See ya later.”
Ashley cried out as the knife sliced through soft tissue, warm blood rushing down from the wound. Without warning a gunshot reverberated through the tunnel, and all pressure left Ashley’s neck. The man before her crumpled, plummeting to the floor. Life drained out of his eyes, his head turning as he fell sideways to reveal a gunshot wound to the temple. Ashley’s legs buckled under her weight, failing to support her now that his grip on her wrist no longer kept her on her feet.
I’m not dead. I’m alive. I made it.
Repeating her victory inside her head over and over again she gradually brought her pounding heart back to its regular speed. The reeking soil was comfortably solid under her as she rested her head against the cold, damp ground. Compressing the knife wound with her left hand she shut her eyes for a moment, seeking to restore her inner calmth. Clenching and unclenching her right fist she regained circulation, a needle-like sensation rushing through the area around her wrist. He'd been unrealistically strong.
Black boots stopped in front of her, and she lifted her eyes to the man who wore them. He smiled kindly, his Smith & Wesson loosely in his hand.
“Paradox, agent.”
The corners of her mouth lifted, a smile breaking through on her face.
“Corporeal. And thank you.”
“Anytime.” He extended a hand, waiting patiently for her to take it. She let him lift her to her feet, then leaned against the stone, breathing in deep. Her gaze was drawn to the dead man that was lying on the shingles, frozen in his position. She understood the science behind his unusual pose, having gained plenty of forensic knowledge during training. After all, if one is expected to clean up a scene in such a way that trained forensic scientists are left without a clue, one must posess vast knowledge of their investigative techniques.
Gravity would normally force lifeless limbs to make contact with the floor, for all control is lost when the heart stops beating. Every muscle relaxes.
The reason he wasn't positioned in such a usual way was due to the adrenaline in his system. Early rigor mortis, or muscle stiffening, induced by the hormone in his blood. Not at all uncommon for deaths that occur during physical attacks.
Stop listing facts, Ashley. She shook her head to herself, aware of her habit to ramble about random topics after experiencing extreme suspense or fear.
“He’s definitely dead.” Her fellow agent spoke softly, his tone compassionate. He'd seen something in the girl's stature that suggested she needed to hear this said aloud. . He holstered his gun. “Code in to the Agency, request a pick-up. Don’t stay here or attempt to continue your mission.”
He cast a final glance in the direction of the deceased man, and then stepped past him, heading out of the tunnel. Ashley watched him go, vanishing into the mist once more. The swirling clouds of fog engulfed him, and she kept her gaze on the space he had occupied seconds before. The kind stranger had slipped into her life for several minutes, but altered the path of fate in a most drastic way. Who ever thought that you could meet someone for such a slight moment in time, and spend the rest of your life remembering what they did for you?
Maybe one day I’ll have the chance to return the favor, she thought, whether to him or to another agent, fate will lead me to assume that role if it is deemed neccesary in the journey of life. The fact that we work solo doesn’t mean that we’re on our own.
She crouched down and closed her hand around the now cold metal of her semi-automatic. Slipping it back into its holster she edged away from the dead body. Someone would find him in the morning, when the trains begin to pass by again and the city comes to life.
She paced away with brisk steps, hurrying out of the tunnel as she vowed she'd never set foot in it again.
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