Graphic violence and a dose of sexual inclination, but not
Disclaimer: Here's a piece of old, old, stale news.
The characters below to Marvel, and I'm not gaining a penny
from this. But I don't mind. It's my passion! :)
Note: Yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a three-parter,
but heck, no. It's too long to be a single chapter, so I tho't
I'd do it to a four. :) Enjoy!
P/s: Special thanks to my personal editor, Caroline!
Let's hear it for her!! *standing ovation* :D
All comments to firstname.lastname@example.org
Free for a Second
The bottle fell to the ground with a loud thud, spilling
its contents on the wooden floor rapidly and filling the small
motel room with the fragrant smell of bourbon whiskey. She
just looked sadly at the mess on the floor, but made no move
to clean it; just balanced herself precariously on the chair
on two of its four legs while her feet were kicked up on the
desk before her.
Rogue settled for the bottle of Absolut Vodka that was on
the desk instead, her unsteady hand groping at air due to
her alcohol-induced double-vision. After much squinting and
pawing, she finally grabbed the bottle by the neck and took
a hearty swig from it.
"Ah...neeeed oolivesss with thisss..." She hiccupped
and chuckled at the odd sound. "Ya broken rule number
4.5, Sabby...'Sobriety keepsss ya alive.'...Ain't that g-gonna
be a problem if ya doesn't wanna stay that way?"
The drunk woman laughed neurotically, jolting so much that
the whole chair fell backwards with her in it. The crash hardly
affected her as she lay on the floor, her hair and suit slightly
wet from the whiskey puddle there. Her mood swing took a dramatic
turn as her laughter dissolved into tears; soon she was heaving
with sobs and pulling at her hair. After a while, Rogue crawled
her way to her equipment case, and pulled out her favourite
civillian automatic pistol.
"Hi, baby..." She held the weapon to her breast
and ran a finger down its barrel. "Ah'm c-countin' on
ya t'take me on a-a good ol' ride."
Her trigger-finger found its usual nook with familiar routine
and the assasin had it held to her head in a flash. She ground
her jaw and hummed quietly to herself, her head nodding, nodding...
"If ah'm gonna get killed, ah'm gonna do it myself,
thank y'all kindly!" she hissed as she turned suddenly
and fired at the hitman who had been stalking her by the window,
ready to shoot her down. He hit the deck a split second before
the bullets shattered the window and cursed. He was so sure
that she would be too drunk to notice anything and that she
would be a piece of cake to get rid of.
Guess he was wrong.
Michael Kirst crawled towards the door admidst all the shooting
and did a dash to break it open; his body burst into the room
as the door gave way, but he was still in action. He fired
his gun at his target, but his aim came a little too late,
she had already taken cover behind the table that she had
kicked over as a barracade. Cursing under his breath, he knew
that he was about to be a sitting duck unless he found some
Rogue gave a yell and fired away before he even had the chance
to move and one of her bullets caught him in the right leg.
She smiled in self-satisfaction, but it soon faded as the
alcohol in her blood kicked in hard and sent her pitching
once again onto the hard wooden floor.
She felt a little panic, something she hadn't known in a
while, when she found it almost impossible to get up. She
realized groggily that this man was a Watcher, assigned to
keep her in check during each of her assignments. Every active
assasin never ever saw who their Watcher was, until their
day of termination. Of all people, it had to be Michael Kirst,
the man who'd been a pain ever since the day they'd had to
share training back at the academy. He'd be more than happy
to cut her throat for all the embarassment she'd caused him.
Almost as soon as she hit the floor, Kirst scrambled towards
the fallen woman, kicking the gun away, then connected his
good leg to her stomach hard. Her brain registered the pain
and she silenced the cry that caught in her throat, the old
assasin's practice of suffering in silence kicking in.
"That's for nailing my leg, bitch." The other assasin
growled as he grabbed her hair violently and slapped
her hard. "And that, is for outdoing me in the tests.
"Oh yeah, one more thing," He grabbed her and kissed
her roughly. "It's for humiliating me in front of the
other guys, hayseed."
Rogue spit into his face, but he was oddly calm even then.
The man pinned her down on the ground, took out some rope
and began to bind her wrists and feet tightly, so much that
she thought she would lose all sensation in her limbs.
"And now, for jeopardizing the assignment, the organization
would like to deliver you your retrenchment present,"
Michael took out a hunting knife and laid the blade to her
cheek. "You aren't so hot after all, are you, Sabby?
You made the biggest mistake of all, getting drunk. Or maybe
you were waiting for someone to come kill you? Yeah, that
might just be me, your angel of Death."
He chuckled softly to himself. "But first, a little
fun," He drew the knife down her face to the neckline
of her bodysuit and made a little slice there, exposing her
upper chest. "You always had a sexy body, Sabine. You
got no idea what you missed out on when you turned me down."
His hands roamed to her chest and made lecherous little caresses.
Rogue clenched her jaw and fumed silently, waiting for him
to try and kiss her again...Sure enough, his head lowered
and she went for it. Kirst fell to the floor when she butted
his face with her head, his nose bleeding and broken from
"Ahhh!!! You slut!!!" He tried to swipe at her,
but the adrenaline and rage boiling in her veins kept her
a little faster than before; she dodged the blow. Yes, despite
the drink in her system, she was doing very well at breaking
rule 4.5, whereas Kirst had failed miserably in the silence
The knife gleamed in the soft light as she snatched it up
and stuck it into the floor. Rogue sawed her bonds free shakily,
and retrieved the knife, ready to defend herself. She whipped
round in time to see the cloud of smoke that flocked around
the barrel of the gun that Michael had fired. Gasping as the
pain shocked her senses, she collapsed, stunned by the impact.
He guffawed in her face now, blood leaking from his nose
and disfiguring his handsome face. Rogue saw now how much
appearances could be deceiving; she was one of those pretenders.
Her whole life was a lie...
"I gotcha now, girl. I'm gonna rape you and then throw
your corpse down a cliff. How's that sound to you?" Michael
grinned lopsidedly as he began to rip her suit open.
"No..." Flashes of the past hit her hard; she whimpered.
Rogue reached up to claw at his face, but he cruelly dug his
hand into the bullet wound in her right shoulder. She clenched
her jaw, stubbornly keeping her silence.
She wasn't going to let this piece of shit do this to her.
She was different. She hated the killing. Michael was different;
bloodthirsty and trigger-happy, taking lives as if it were
nothing more significant than the action of wiping the blood
off his hands.
"Ah ain't gonna let ya do this t'me!!" she spat
with renewed angst.
There was a new cry of pain as Rogue twisted her other concealed
dagger into Kirst's ribs; he howled agian and tried to take
it out, but in vain. Rogue forced herself to focus, and used
her foot to lodge the weapon further into his body maliciously.
He let out a choked gasp of agony.
Budging the man off her, Rogue locked her arm around his
neck, ready to break it. But she wasn't going to stoop that
low; instead she snarled into his ear, "Ah can't believe
HQ sent a loser like ya t'babysit me...They must be gettin'
senile in their old age, don'cha think, Mikey?"
Kirst attempted to attack her again, but she twisted the
knife in his gut. His eyes turned white from the torture.
"Ya ain't good enough, Kirst. HQ should've turned you
out from the beginnin', ain't never once that ya did well
on your own, always takin' credit for things that don't even
belong t'you. Ah'm never gonna kill again, not even you...Ah'm
never goin' down that road again."
He stared at her, eyes burning with venom.
"You're not gonna get out that easy, Sabine. Ain't no
way out but dying. If I killed you, I'd be doing you a favour."
"Shut up, Kirst!" Rogue blinked rapidly at her
double-vision. The moment the adrenaline in her body settled
down, the effects of alcohol drugged her again. It was a dangerous
situation this time.
Kirst saw the wavering of her stance and the loosening of
her arm around his neck; he barely kept his smug smile as
he reached discreetly for the whiskey bottle that had fallen
on the floor earlier.
"No, I think you'll shut up!!" With a savage cry,
he smashed the bottle against her head. Her body slumped limp
and he shoved her off roughly, and like a five-year-old boy,
felt very pleased about himself.
Kirst staggered and picked up the hunting knife on the floor.
This was going to be an easier kill than he thought after
all. Bending over Rogue's prone body, he held the blade to
her throat, drawing blood as it cut into her flesh slowly.
"I'm gonna enjoy this, sweet Sab--"
His sentence got cut off by a loud crash of glass; a dark
figure swooped in through the window and swiftly turned a
full circle before connecting one strong leg to Kirst's jaw.
I growled as I smashed de man's face in and kicked him behind
"Hit a woman, boy? Remy don' like dat one bit. 'Specially
when I care f'her," I side-stepped as de bloody man lunged
at me wit' his huntin' knife. "You ain't a man, an' I'll
kill ya for hurtin' Rogue!"
I executed kick after kick to his chest, breakin' his ribs
in de process, leavin' him half-dead. I would've killed him,
if it weren't for Rogue. She was barely conscious, but I heard
her callin' me weakly, tellin' me not t'fall to dis son-of-a-bitch's
She be right.
I dropped him and moved to Rogue instead, pickin' her up
gently in my arms and took her away from his vile presence.
Continued in Chapter
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