Do you ever get the feeling that something is wrong? It was like you could smell it in the air, a scent that burned your nose so strongly it gave you a headache. That's exactly what I felt the moment I unlocked the door to my waterfront apartment.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as I silently slipped my piece from my waistband, where it had been perfectly concealed by my suit jacket. I lightly kicked the door shut with the back of my heel and put my pointer finger through the metal ring of my keys so I could grip the gun with both hands. My feet quietly clicked against the wood, my black gun pointed in front of me as I spun around the corner to the right.
Nothing. My living room was empty.
Slowly, I moved sideways moving towards my open kitchen to check for someone behind my marble island or in the dining room. Again, there was nothing. With the right side of my apartment cleared, I turned towards the other side of the home, ready to check the hallway with two bedrooms and a bathroom. There was someone else in this apartment and I was sure of it. After my encounter today, there was nothing that could convince me otherwise.
My heartbeat was low and relaxed, my silent sniper breathing coming to a crawl as I approached the dim hallway. Just as I was about to turn into the first bedroom to my right, a black figure appeared from the doorway, snapping the weapon out of my hand using one arm while their other held a pistol of their own.
The heavy metal clattered to the floor as I stood on my right foot and swung my left foot up, kicking the towering six foot two stranger in the face and forcing the gun to the ground with my leg. It didn't fall like mine had, though. Instead, he spun it in his hand expertly, attempting to pistol whip me in the temple. Luckily, I dodged the blow just in time.
My momentary shock provided the perfect opportunity for him to swipe my feet out from under me with his own leg, my body slamming against the hardwood floor and pain blossoming in the back of my head. The black figure descended on me, punching my already aching skull, burying their fist in my jaw as I kneed them in the balls. I didn't even hear a grunt or see a lull in his movements as he grabbed my wrists, dragging my body on the hardwood floor. My heels squeaked, probably leaving black rubber skids on the expensive flooring.
My nails dig into his wrists, drawing warm blood that dribbled onto my hands slowly as I fought, my body easily being moved like a rag doll around my apartment. When we reached the kitchen his leg wrapped around my neck, keeping me in a chokehold to distract me from the fact that one of my wrists was let go of. Despite my best efforts, this intruder had the element of surprise, superior strength, and larger size in his corner. My left arm was useless, his leg keeping it practically immobile.
I heard the metal click of handcuffs before I felt the cool sensation. My body was hauled up, my wrist grinding against the tight restraints as my arms were tried together up to my shoulders. Burning pain seared through my nerves, feeling like my shoulder blades were being ripped out as I started to lose consciousness from the lack of air my brain was receiving.
My thrashing grew weaker, so much so that when my body was finally released and thrown on the ground for the figure to tie my ankles together, I didn't even have it in me to resist as my aching lungs heaved for oxygen. This son of a bitch was good. Too good.
"I usually leave my women breathless but this is a little bit of an exaggeration, Sweetheart." The deep and cocky voice of the man at my feet vibrated through my ears over my incessant gasping. My pupils constricted in pure and unadulterated hatred as I focused my laser gaze on the familiar raven-haired Middle Easterner with a rich French accent in the back of his throat. I didn't recognize him in the slightest aside from this morning, but with his skills, that fact only attested to his greatness. Maybe this weapons job would be a little harder than I thought.
