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Chapter 8 - The Fallout

CHAPTER EIGHT

CRISTOBAL'S POV

"How it had me hoping, anticipating for the moment when Ava would finally close the door, and when she was about to ... I slid through the gap, brandishing my revolver towards him."

"Hands up motherfucker!!"

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He jolted back in obvious shock, his chunky arms grabbing the collar of his baggy shirt, tugging the hem off his waist. A gesture that showcased a slight bulge developing on his belly.

His fedora had also hopped off his head, exposing a chrome dome so sleek the ceiling bulb overhead reflected off his skin.

It was a sight that rattled me, loosening the grip I had on my gun, and before I could blink, he lunged halfway and snatched my gun instantly.

The tables were turned. Now I was the one with my arms up, already retreating from those wide eyes questioning me, staring deep as they slowly narrowed, his jaw clenching before he stuttered next.

"Wha—wha.... Cris... Cristobal?! What the hell, what the hell is all of this!".

" Drop the gun."

"Oh, so you are part of this, too. I thought you were one of those high-maintenance escorts".

"Guess you thought wrong! Now, I won't repeat it. Drop. The. Gun".

Santiago didn't budge. His focus switching between us. One of his arm stretched out, long and equipped, while his gaze already traced the path towards its mark: The skin between my furrowed brows.

But then, his face began to droop low, heavy with realization apparently--- and that same glare strictly locked in my direction now as he slowly crouched down, one knee raised over the other as his right hand stooped low and slid my gun over to where I stood.

"Do what you gotta do."

His words winced my temples. But I stepped forward, and picked the gun up quickly. And just like that, we were back to the status quo that was me shooting him.

The man even raised the bar farther, lurching straight for the nozzle of the gun before he bowed his head first, then thrust it into the muzzle. As if he was ready to die.

My grip tightened around my gun as his head vibrated it, his closeness making the task a lot harder than it was supposed to be. And it really was simple. All it would take was a hasty press back, then... SPLATTTT. Mission accomplished.

I tried. I swear I tried. But somehow, my hands couldn't give in. Couldn't submit to the rationale of the instruction.

Kill him, and we were done. Step one completed.

Instead, the stupid appendage only seemed to play servant to the beating unwillingness that coursed through my veins. A reluctance that rose as ominous stomping began to sound nearer to the entrance.

And still, the trigger barely moved an inch. My index gripped around it, and yet, nothing advanced except for the friction of metal and skin waning, both slipping apart the longer I hesitated in getting that one bullet out.

"Do it," he said. His breath steamed under my lips, the skin above reddened now, and when I thought nothing else could break my heart, those marching steps finally stamped to a halt.

After, the door pried slightly ajar – its light squeak itching the insides of my eardrum. Denting the slightest gall I had left for the job.

Ava, who had been silent—almost unavailable the whole time, also seemed to clock in as they all took their positions across the room.

Her shoulders immediately resurrected, and her eyes darted all over her socket until it seemed like they would just hurl off, especially since Mr. Danger was the one lingering in front of the doorway, nearly sticking to her right as his sharply cut head hovered over everyone inside.

 The other two stayed apart in opposite directions. One shuffled down to my rear while his compatriot backed against a square transparent en suite built into the left wing of the room.

But, in my mind, it was just me, poor old Santi, and his festering gaze. His glare burning through my lens with the ire of a thousand suns.

His audacity held me captive whilst the walls themselves seemed like they were closing in on me, creeping forward from both sides—Trapping me in this nerve-racking box where any wrong move was shadowed closely by a physical warning.

Just fucking try something.

It was times like these, I wish I had listened to the boss. Get extra help just like before... But no... I just had to be the hero. Well, all that didn't matter right where I stood. Now was the moment of truth.... And what did I do...

Without thinking, I twisted sideways, shoulders swinging right before my gun fired once. My target couldn't even blink-- he was already dead. Gone before he tipped back and collapsed like a fallen tree.

The other two followed. Ava's instant jab to the air preceded a knee-jerking drop behind me, and then the last goon followed suit after my bullet speared into his chest. His hands were crippled before they swung into action, earning a jagged cry from him as he retreated in pained steps, crashing through the glass partition on his way down the splintered glass.

And then silence took its rightful place, swallowing everything in its wake except for the crunch of shards sliding his fallen body back.... stopping only when the side of his throbbing skull met with the bleached surface of the sink.

The assignment was done indeed.

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"Let's get the fuck out of here... Now, now!!" Ava yelled, swivelling till her back was to me, feet soaring over the corpse flattened ahead.

Heck! I didn't need a second to process that instruction. Santiago, however, looked like he had been turned into a statue of salt with the way he just stood there ... and stared. Taking in the collateral damage that came with the "Rescue My Dear Old Friend Package".

The only thing that seemed to get to him after a healthy session of belting screams was the mention of his kids—His family, to be precise. A reminder I knew would get the job done.

"Hey... Hey, Santi. Santi! We need to go; Ava's already halfway back to the main floor by now".

"She told me her name was Isabella". His tongue rolled words off mindlessly---His vacant eyes still concentrated on the morbid mess littered on the ground.

"What—Who... Listen, fuck that, Okay. We need to go. Your wife and kids are on another continent as we speak".

"What.... What do you me---"

"Listen, there is no time to explain. Do you wanna escape this and see them, or do you still want to remain staring at lost causes?".

His breath suspended, so I guessed a doubtful answer, but thankfully, my trump card worked out well... Too well, if you asked me. Because he was now ahead, bounding up two steps at a time like it was routine for him.

Now, it was my turn to be star-struck... at his surprising limberness. But before I could even lift a leg, a frail groan rattled my ears, wrenching me back to the scene of our crime.

My attention branched briefly between both men, first at the man beside me, and then the other guy flattened in the washroom.

A thought flashed my mind and beckoned to stay, but I brushed it off.

Just as I tried to brush off the thread of bile gnawing at my throat.

But of course, resistance was futile. The worrying thoughts inevitably crept in again. This time, as a mantra bubbling from within, jamming my skull until it somehow managed to deflate off as a muffled whisper.

"I never miss. Of course, he is dead. I never miss"

Seconds went by like days with the way I delayed every step, his limp body about to come to a frame until a resounding shriek tromped to a stop beside me and then vibrated in a tone I could only attribute to Ava.

"What are you doing?!"

"I—I..." Didn't mean to, but I guess it was stuttering from then on. A side effect she sometimes had on me. I tried to explain to her that there could be something possibly not taken care of, but when her palms briefly brushed past my fingers, the words scrambled instantly. Once she fully wrapped my fingers around mine, all my synaptic connections detached momentarily.

"Shhhh—Let's go, she beckoned, her voice soft and gentle. But the effect was potent, edging me back to my senses.

"Alright", I agreed and instantly proceeded to climb with her.

Our bodies swayed side by side, elbows nearly grazing against each other as the heat of her breath briefly singed the side of my neck.

"Santiago is already by the door... All we have to do is----"

BANG!!

(I guess I was right after all)

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