Author: Cindy G.
Rating: Mature
Description: Part 2 of this Christie fic...enjoy!
?I know you?re there?? he shouted out. There he was, a few feet away from her, both guns cocked and loaded. The enthusiasm in him was apparent: he was enjoying this. ?Christie?? he whistled out with such a carefree tone it sent a chill down her spine.
?What?? she whispered under her breath. He knew her name? It wasn?t making any sense to her. Just yesterday she was reading everything she needed to know about HIM and now there she was, quivering behind a television set, hoping HER target wouldn?t come around and shoot her in the face. ?The next footstep and he?s a goner? she assured herself. She raised the gun in front of her and aimed it close to his head. ?Move to the side you fucker?? He was rotating his head, looking for a movement, a shadow, anything to give him a clear view of what he was going to kill. With one quick blast, a shot was fired from her end of the living room. Once her shot was fired, a loud commotion erupted from his side. Shots were fired repeatedly and Christie took refuge behind the television once again, ducking her head and hoping his rampage of bullets would end so she could come out once he ran out of ammo. The television was shot and glass was spilling all around her. She unplugged the television and ducked down to the floor. After 10 shots from each one of his guns were emptied out, which were now hollow shells spattered across the bloody carpet, he went into his pocket, whistling a low tune, and pulled out a round for a little more fun. Christie peeked out from behind the broken television. ?Why didn?t he just come around and kill me?? It seemed as if he was toying with her, because an opportunity to kill had already passed by him once or twice during the whole ordeal. She knew he was reloading. Her guns were under her now while he was shooting. Her hands slipped under her thighs and joined her hands once again. This time she knew she had the shot. The gun locked onto his chest. She fired. 3 bullets escaped her weapon. A loud thud vibrated across the floor and his pistols flew out of his hands. For a second he laid there limp and lifeless, only his leg twitching with the last bit of life he sustained.
?Playtime?s over Russian?? He finally saw her emerge from the depths of darkness. Dust draped her black clothes, and her pistols were still glued to her hands, both cocked and ready, even after bringing him down. His eyes stared up at his killer. She removed her ski mask, and two handfuls of white hair popped out, accompanied by two light oceans of purple that looked like the eyes of a child rather them that of a killer, which were filled with the same hate and evil he kept bottled up in his stare. The oceans of hate gazed at the bloody area on his chest. A smile surfaced on her face. ?Who do you think you are? If you know my name you must know the kind of woman I tend to be when I don?t get my way?? Her boot pushed over the holes left by the bullets, and he wiggled in pain. A grunt of agony followed. The smile on her face widened. ?It seems to me as if you?ve met your match? Isn?t that right Russian?? She knew she had won. In her head she was laughing at his petty cries for redemption, for life, a life which she cared nothing of. To her, he was another victim of her wrath, another body to add to the list.
?Christie?? he cried, his arms circled around her ankle wearily. ?They told me you were coming?it was all a trap?? he spat out, so soundly that Christie thought he was hallucinating from the blood loss. She curved her eyebrows in confusion. ?What do you mean trap?? A breath followed from his lips. He couldn?t speak anymore?he was in too much pain. ?Answer me!? she screamed, stomping on his chest with frustration. A spill of blood leaked out from under her foot. He turned onto his side, holding his body with both arms. ?Donovan?he was the one??
?Donovan?? Clouds of anger formed on her face. She clenched her teeth and turned the Russian to his original position and towered over him, one leg on each side, a gun staring down at the dying man. ?What do you mean it was a trap?? His lips started to form words, but no sound escaped his mouth. The gun got closer and closer to his head. ?Explain everything to me or this gun is gonna unload on your brain?? Finally he composed himself with every inch of life he had and whispered everything he knew.
?You were sent to kill me but?? He swallowed the blood that had accumulated in his mouth, ?but I knew you were coming. Donovan had hired you to come after me, but this whole time it was me who was hired to kill you.? The tension in her body had risen to new heights. The bullet to his head seemed appropriate now, but to his surprise her arm had lowered down to her side. A sigh traveled out of her lungs. He saw the cold anger had temporarily disappeared and pity had replaced it.
?Well?it was good while it lasted with Donovan?? she replied, walking over to his torn up couch and throwing herself on it, propping her legs up on the armrest. Her head turned to see his condition. ?If you?re wondering if I?m going to kill you or not the answer is no. I need you alive because with one assassin you can kill for the thrill, but to kill for revenge, it takes more than just guns and hostility to show someone you want to hit them where it hurts.? The blood from his chest blended through to the carpet. ?Where?s your phone?? A red finger pointed to a hallway. ?Walk to the end. You?ll see a room. Phone?there?? His accent faded away and by the time she sarcastically answered ?Thanks?, he was long gone into oblivion.