The Hitman

The Jump

Air rushed by my face, and I instantly missed my sunglasses. But I didn't have time to complain. I yanked the parachute cord and began to slow down. I produced my gun and aimed it at the ground.

A police officer looked up and pointed at me. I fired my gun and hit him square in the head. He fell back over, dead, and other shots fired toward me. But they weren't close enough. I picked them off one by one. Soon enough, I was sailing over the bewildered backups' heads, laughing. They would never catch Nick Sievers.

I touched down near the outskirts of the city. Jay was waiting nearby. I holstered my gun momentarily while I unbuckled the parachute.

"Freeze!"

Shoot.

My head jerked up. A woman was standing there, a gun aimed toward my head. I laughed. "Sweetheart, put the gun down."

She looked me straight in the eyes. "No."

I was taken aback. No one dared defied me. But I regained my cool. "I don't want to hurt you, doll."

She smirked. "I'm the one with the gun pointed at your temple."

I shook my head and slid my hand toward my pocket. I lowered my voice and glared at her, "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

There were nearby shouts. Most likely police officers. I gripped the metal of the gun and tensed.

"I will shoot," she warned. "Get your hand off that gun."

Our eyes locked in a battle of wills, neither of us willing to make the first move. We stayed frozen, as if the entire world had stopped around us.

But of course time hadn't stopped. I had to get out of here before I ran out of time. Before the police came.

I glanced at the woman, then at the alleyway. She wouldn't shoot. She didn't have the guts. I turned to run, then heard the loading of more firearms.

"If you run, there are ten highly trained specialists ready to rip bullets down your back," a gruff voice said. I cursed under my breath. Was it a bluff?

But then, three men appeared in front of me.  Hold up.  These weren't police officers.  They were....in the military?

Honestly, I was quite flattered.  If someone was to take me in, I would much prefer the Green Berets.

"Put your hands up."

But that didn't mean I was through.  I slipped the dart into my glove and slowly lifted my hands.  The men in front of me shifted and squinted their eyes from the sun.

The sun.

I shifted on my feet ever so slightly, so the men in front of me would see nothing but the blinding sun.

I glanced around for anything else I could use to my advantage. The crumbling brownstone in front of me had no window ledges. However, a white rusted drain pipe ran along the side of the building. It may not be strong enough to support my weight, but I could certainly use it as a weapon if given the chance.

Hands fell on my hips.  I instinctively tried to shake them off, but the hands gripped even tighter.  "Don't.  Move." I gritted my teeth.

The rough hands groped my body, feeling for any weapons.  They ran across the hem of my pants and stopped.  They had found something. "What's this?"

I deemed not to speak.  They could figure it out for themselves. 

"No answer, wise guy?  You're a hitman, and very good at what you do-"

"Why, thank you."  I grinned cheekily at the stone-faced soldiers. 

Cold metal laid against my neck, and someone breathed down my back.  "No back talk, either."  I nodded stiffly.  "Now as I was saying, you're clothes are surely ridden with plenty of gadgets.  So we have no choice but to take them all."

An orange jumpsuit was thrown into my face.  I grabbed it and the soldiers shifted uneasily.  "You want me to wear this?" I shook my head incredulously.

"You're a public enemy."

I laughed.  "Depends who you ask. I work for the public." I winced as the butt of a gun striked my back, but it was worth it.

I grabbed the waist of my pants then paused.  The soldiers were still staring at me.  I was tempted to look over my shoulder, but knew when not to push the limits.

"If you all aren't going to give a man his privacy, at least make sure that lady friend of yours isn't watching."  There was no response. She was most definitely watching. I sighed and undressed, pulling on the jumpsuit.  "There.  Happy?"

"The gloves."

The gloves. Shoot. The dart was in the gloves.

I peeled off the empty one and flung it at one of the soldiers. Then, I gripped the dart and removed the other glove slowly.

"What's in your hand?"

I didn't move, didn't make a sound.

"Your hand."

You could hear a pin drop, to use a cliché.

"Sievers, the hand." A hand gripped my shoulder and I spun around, throwing the dart at him. It only grazed him, but that was enough. And apparently the man knew, too. He cursed. And by God, let him. In ten minutes he wouldn't even be able to do that.

The street erupted in a commotion. People were shouting at each other and shots were being fired. Something sharp sliced me in the back. My knees buckled and I suddenly felt very, very sleepy. I watched the man being rushed away as everything went black.