Paulo "The Fist" Sabatini was out of breath.
His fat body heaved after running up the stairs to the top floor of the cheap hotel where he sought refugee from the ones who hunted him.
His face was wet with sweat and his pulse felt like a steam powered piston, hammering away with a noise that must have awakened all the sleeping residents.
He prayed that they had missed him when he slipped into the back entrance, but his experience told him otherwise. They would find him...they would hunt him down like a dog and... No!!! He needed to regain his calm. Just a few more minutes of rest and he would be fresh again. Then maybe...maybe he would dare to move and slip away into the night...
Using his childhood skills in cracking locks he managed to open a door with the sign, "Elevator Room, Keep Out". When he peered inside he saw that it was empty except for the machinery that kept the old elevator and apparently most of the electricity working throughout the whole hotel.
He closed the door ever so carefully so no noise could be heard and then sat down and for the first time in an hour he let himself breathe normally.
Filling his gasping lungs that felt like they were on fire, he made a promise to himself to start running and keep a strict excercise program...if he would survive the night...
For a long time the only noises that could be heard were the cars outside, and the pattering of small feet, mostly birds, but a few rats as well.
He managed to relax and rummaged through his pockets.
Where was that Snickers bar?
Ah....nice yummy chocolate goodness.
The explosion sent the door straight into his face, forcing his hand to push the Snickers and a few knuckles down into his throat.
Deaf and blind from the shock he managed to grab his gun with his left hand, but it was quickly kicked out of his hand...and the last thing he saw was the dark sole of a combat boot heading towards his face.
**
"This is Crasher 3 to Crasher 1. I´ve found the target, and he´s under control. orders? Over."
The red light from a pair of night goggles shone down on the mashed face of Paulo, who apparently now suffered from a serious concussion and a broken nose.
His fist was still stuck inside his mouth.
Blond flowing hair revealed his assailant to be a woman. She wore a black leather suit with a utility belt and a backpack. And in her hands she held two customized Glock 22 guns.
"Crasher 1 to Crasher 3. Our contract says termination with visual proof. So don´t forget a nice closeup mug shot after the kill. Confirm. Over."
"Orders confirmed. Crasher 3 over and out."
She quickly fired a bullet sideways into the eyesocket to ensure a kill and then opened one of the small pockets of her utility belt. The tiny but efficient Casio S600 camera with a good flash was perfect for enclosed spaces like this.
With the picture taken she quickly ran downstairs and mounted a Honda XR650R offroad model. Painted with a nice deep red.
She roared off into the rainy night, using the smaller streets to avoid any eventual police or trafficjams.
As she reached a small footballfield at the edge of town she activated her com again.
"Crasher 3 to Crasher 1. E site reached. Where is my transport? Over?"
The only reply was static.
"Crasher 3 to Crasher 1. E site reached. Where is my transport? Over?"
More static.
Something was seriously wrong. Crasher 1 was never late during pickups.
"Crasher 3 to Crasher 2 over."
After a few endless seconds a yawning voice replied;
"This is Crasher 2...what the hell are you doing Crasher 3? You know I´m asleep. I have a early morning tomorr..."
"Nevermind that. We seem to have an emergency on our hands. Crasher 1 didn´t arrive to pick me up. She may have run into some difficulty. Over"
"What? She never misses a pickup. I´ll try to contact her. Go to E site 2 while I try to figure out what´s happened. Over"
"Heading towards E site 2. Crasher 3 over and out."
What the hell had just happened?
Her thoughts went through all possible scenarios while she drove through the night.
**
Crasher 1´s unconcious body was carried by two men in nice black suits, and then loaded into a dark van that had no markings and no license plates.
One of them spoke into a hidden microphone;
"Subject found and contained. We´re on our way back to base. Over and out."
The dark suited men entered the van and drove off into the night...in the exact opposite direction of Crasher 3´s heading.
