Just one last job...
The only thought Evan Rivers can focus on as his senses are engulfed in a whirlwind of debris, smoke, and the sound of endless screaming. His cold steel coloured eyes dart around the scene, trying to make sense of what transpired just moments ago. The yells and pleas of help are now muffled; the only sound he hears is of his own heart beating at 220bpm in the back of his throat, and the piercing ring in one ear from the explosion.
He claws his fingernails into the dirt as buildings in the skyline begin to slowly descend straight south. Shielding his eyes with a forearm, he keeps his head low and stands to his feet, absorbing as little damage from the sandstorm around him as possible. His grey sweater is plagued by charcoal and blood, torn from the neck to the left arm, and his dark jeans are ripped all over.
"Joan?!" he cries out, looking around, unable to take his eyes off of the ghastly scenes around him.
A sea of bodies all over are burned to the bone; some on the ground, some half-hanging out of cars. Fire cloths every area in sight -- and deafening thud after thud of helicopters and bombs falling all around is the only audible thing left.
Evan tries to take a breath, but falls to one knee and begins coughing violently as a sweep of dust passes over him like a wave in the ocean.
"Joan?!" he cries out again, trying to muster the energy in his burnt out lungs to scream, but all that emerges is a raspy whisper.
Standing back to both feet, he turns around to see the figure of a dark-haired woman lying on her front beside broken cobbles on a sidewalk; a fallen traffic light covering her lower-half, with sparks and electricity flung from loose wires all over.
He limps over to her and kneels down. "Joan," he whispers as tears begin streaming down both soot covered cheeks. His worn-out heart sinks. Without even moving her, he already knows his fiancée is gone.
The warm beads entwine with the sweat on his chin and begin to drip onto her once-snow white flower dress, as he takes one last look around.
The stomach churning boom of a black helicopter passes over head and towards a large ship off the coast. Evan's heartrate begins inclining as he watches the next scene unfold: just a few miles off shore, the helicopter drops four objects over the ship, and just as the ringing in his ears finally subside, a catastrophic blast emerges from the ship and almost instantaneously erupts in a blaze of red ember.
The helicopter begins circling around, with clear intent to make its way back to land.
More gut-wrenching thuds of bombs are heard being dropped all around.
Evan's heart rate continues to rise as explosions are seen in the near distance. He takes one final look down at the woman whom he loved, stands to both feet, and begins to run.
"Just one last job," Evan thinks to himself as he picks a set of car keys up from the oak wood counter by the front door of his house. He looks back down the long stretch of corridor to his fiancée, Joan, who's dressed in a beautiful silk white flower dress, arms folded and leaning against a pane with a smile on her face.
"I'll be here, packing," she says, letting her arms fall to her sides as she walks over to Evan and hugs into him tightly. "I love you," she says into the crease of his neck.
"I love you, too," Evan replies, unable to look her in the eye when she pulls back.
He turns around and opens the door, walking out and down the few steps leading up to his house. Sighing, he realizes just how many lies he's told her over the two-years they've been together.
"Just one last job, and I can finally get out," he thinks to himself as he opens the door of his dark red Kuruma. A light rain begins to spit from the liquid sky as he enters inside and starts it up.
Keeping a fast pace down a dim, cramped hallway, Evan checks his Blackberry: 10:34 a.m., three un-read texts.
"Better early than late," he says to himself, stopping at a brown door and overhearing two male voices inside. He reaches down for the brass knob and just as he's about to enter, he hears his name mentioned in the conversation. He pauses.
"So f*cking what?" he hears from inside. Evan recognizes the voice right away: Lyle Morde, the figure head of BB Cartel.
"I'm just saying, they're good guys. You get two like them on your side, and they'll break their backs for you." The voice of reason belongs to Samuel Klein, someone Evan trusted early on when he joined the Cartel last year. A wise choice upon hearing this conversation, he realizes.
"Do you really think we're gonna get away with this each way without a couple'a bodies?" Lyle asks of Samuel. Silence befalls the room for a moment. "I take that as a no. It's settled. Rivers and O'Malley take the fall."
Evan's phone begins to ring. Frantically, he releases the door knob and hits the decline call button. He takes a few steps backward as the footsteps of Lyle and Samuel from inside can be heard getting closer to the door. Evan makes a run for it as the door opens.
"f*ck!" Lyle screams out, pulling a 9mm. from the back of his waistband and raising it to eye-level. He fires it towards Evan's back and it skims by his right shoulder as he watches him turn a corner. "Rivers heard everything," he yells, turning to face Samuel, letting the pistol fall to his side.
"Leave it to me," Samuel sighs. "Fortunately, Rivers trusts me, and we're running out of time here. Call Everett and confirm it," he says, straightening the collar of his navy shirt out.
Evan slams the handbrake of his Kuruma on at the foot of his house. His phone has been ringing for the last fifteen minutes. Exiting the car, he charges up the steps and opens the unlocked door. "Joan!" he screams, looking up the large marble staircase. Checking his phone as he begins running up the stairs, he sees nothing but missed calls from Samuel Klein.
"I'm in here," Joan's voice can be heard through the bedroom door.
Evan shoves the cream coloured door open with such force it hits into the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall on the other side, causing it to shattering into a thousand tiny crystals.
Joan cries out, startled. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" She turns around to assess the damage.
"We've gotta go," Evan states, calmly gripping her shoulders, staring into her glazed-over brown eyes. "f*ck the packing, just grab your passport, your purse and let's go. Now."
"Evan, what's wrong?" she asks as he lets go and turns around, watching him remove a 19th Century painting from the wall, revealing a small safe embedded in the eggshell white wallpaper.
"I'm so sorry," he says, slowly pulling the safe door open. "I'm not who you think I am."
Treading lightly, looking down at the reflection of sunlight on the broken glass through the window, Joan approaches him. "What do you mean?"
He slams the safe shut and pockets a clip of notes and two passports. Grabbing Joan by the wrist, he begins running to the door.
Joan digs her heels into the wooden floor and stands her ground. "Tell me what you mean!" she pleads.
"I'm a bad person..."
Evan's head hangs in shame, unable to turn and face his fiancée. Letting go of her wrist, he looks at his phone once more. Almost on cue, it begins to ring: Samuel Klein appears on the screen face, as he expected.
"Did you check the text messages?" she asks, beginning to cry.
Evan declines the call and turns to face her. Through a watery vision, he sees her hands rested on her stomach.
"I'm pregnant, Evan."
A brief smile can be seen on Evan's face as he blinks hard, letting a few soft beads of warm water pace down his cheeks.
Joan shuffles into Evan, looking down at the shimmering crystals of glass on the floor, embracing for a hug.
Evan wraps his arms around Joan, calmed by the warmth of her soft skin on his. "I've done bad things," he says, resting his chin on her head. "It's the only way I've ever known how to survive -- provide for my family... you... and--"
"A part of me always knew," she admits, interrupting him. "Where are we going?"
Pulling the Kuruma up to Wychmere's dockyard, the sound and sight of ships and fraters bustling in and out of port are all Joan can focus on. She's barely been able to remove her hands from her lap, keeping her unborn child protected in her own way. A thing her mother always told her she did when she was carrying her.
"O'Malley, listen, the Cartel are setting us up to take the fall. Get outta dodge," Evan pleads to his friend on the phone, keeping his eyes fixated on a certain boat. "I'm taking Joan and going over to Green State. I've already called it in; the feds are all over the airports here in Wychmere and Welton. The only way out of the country is either Gadebridge or Heart. They're talking witness protection... but I'm out, man. I dunno what you wanna do."
Joan rests her head back in the seat, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She feels Evan's hand rest on top of hers.
"Joan's pregnant," he says, smiling and looking at her. "Take care, mate." Evan pockets the Blackberry and nods his head towards the same boat he's been staring at for the past minute or two. "You ready?"
She nods, tightening the grip on Evan's hand in hers. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
The screen fades to black.
Edited by TonyZimmzy, 25 December 2012 - 08:10 AM.