Charade Games | Completed

Chapter 51: Final

1987 Milan, Italy

The sound of the bullet approached me before I could even lay my eyes on it.

Instinctively, my immediate reflex was to duck--the bullet skimming past my skin as it deflected against the ground, lighting a small spark on the floor with a high pitched sound.

The cement floor, like a shot of fireworks on a July day- sparked with the red flame before subtly dying down with its flare still clear in memory.

"LEO!" He shouted.

Turning my head; I felt a sudden hand pull me down as my face and body met the ground--flat without resistance. The sudden thud still ringing in my head as his arm covered the side of my face as he pulled me aside.

Dashing at this point, Alden lead us to a pair of steel stairs that were parallel to the side of the room. Our footsteps being followed and traced by reigns of bullets as we hid behind the rows of oil barrels.

The gun shots were louder.

Bullets shells poured onto the floor like rain as they continue to embed themselves into the barrels.

Through all this chaos, the sound of bullets grazing and deflecting, as well as his miniscule laugh penetrated the air like cutting the flesh. It leaves deep and hardening scars on the skin that's undoubtly never forgotten.

"GET THEM YOU FOOLS!" He yells, amidst the drowning sounds of bullets.

With our backs pressed to the oil barrels, Alden and I didn't even have a spare second for a breath. Scrambling our hold on the pistols stuck to our hands, we started to pull together our thoughts in this insanity.

Catching a glance at Alden, his look now merged together with slight pain.

His blonde hair mixed together with black oil, as well as a damp look with his hair sticking together.

At the side of his face, a bullet streak resided with the wound still new and aching with the beat red color.

His black suit in a dismal mess; tangled, ripped, and wrinkled as well as dirtied all in the sense of the word.

Scanning my eyes over him, it latched onto his hands now covered in red. The color imprinted onto his fingers, pouring and dripping in the veins.

"You're hurt." I said, the words sounder more courser than I intended.

Alden shook his head.

"I'm not hurt." He insisted.

Gazing at him, I oppositely shook my head as well. "There's blood on your hands, where's the wound?"

"I'm not hurt. This isn't my blood." He replied calmly as I already started tearing through his shirt to find the wound.

All of a sudden a bullet streaked right across from us as we turned our heads rapidly. The bullet popped through the side of the oil barrel as black liquid busted out of the cracks.

Splattering onto the cement ground, it slowly starts to flood the floor.

"Fucking hell, Alden mumbled under his breath.

Glancing at me, he nudges with his head as he reached for his pistol. Following after him, I gripped the pistol still in my hand and lurked over to the opposite side of the oil barrels.

The rapid fire ceased and turned into a slowly rhythm, replaced with breaks for the men to start and run up the stairs.

Aiming the pistol, I took a steady breath before firing a shot at one of the man below.