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Fourteenth Floor
Jul. 5th, 2006 07:17 pmThere's a split second when he almost -- almost -- fires just out of pure reflex, pure adrenaline, but he holds back.
Thank fuck: "Shin." Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank fuck: a friend on the inside. You saved my ass the other night; I owe you.
Shin's eyes are bright, moving from place to place; he steps past Spike and raises his gun.
Bang.
Another Syndicate guys drops, his gun still aimed at Spike's back.
I fucking owe you. Some day, when this is all over, I'll sit you down and tell you the whole damn story. Hell, I'll bring you with me when I go back: you deserve a safe place. "Where's Vicious?"
Shin's all action, though: it's a dangerous fucking game he's playing. "On the top floor. This way!" They're off to the right, down a corridor.
Perfect.
He plants one more of those remote-control explosives right... here, in the corridor. Because if things go right -- or even if they don't -- he sure as hell won't need this hallway ever again; he follows Shin around a corner just as two more men appear. Bullets fly; all he knows is the 20/15 vision in that fake eye and the way it sees those bullets in slow fucking motion, clear as anything, and he waits.
One heartbeat, two.
Click.
Boom.
So much for those guys. That hallway. That elevator, too, and now they're at another one; Shin pushes the button.
Breathe, breathe, breathe. Fuck, this arm hurts, no time for that now. It feels like forever, waiting for the elevator. If they didn't have another six, seven flights to go, he'd run up the fucking stairs. Just now, he's not sure he could; his gun hand goes to that left arm, try to stem that blood but...
Fuck.
"Shin!" Right there and Shin never saw him, never even turned to fucking look, and
Bang.
Shin crumples and drops.
Fuck! Those semiautomatic rifles kick up a shitload of debris; ducking, Spike fires and the Syndicate guy falls motionless. There's something trickling down his forehead -- maybe sweat, maybe blood -- and broken glass and twisted metal everywhere, and Shin's on his back.
In a pool of blood. No, no, no. Fuck.
"Shin!" He's on his knees, but the blood flowing out from beneath Shin's body... well, it tells a shit story with a shit ending: there's nothing he can do about it. Not a goddamn thing. Whatever's wet on his face moves from above his eye down his cheek, but Spike doesn't give a damn: Shin's trying to talk.
"Vicious... he's got to be stopped."
It's all he can do to listen: this sucks.
Shin's weak now; that's a hell of a lot of blood gone. His voice is barely audible. "I... was waiting for you to come back and take over."
And just like it happened with Annie and with Julia, there's nothing left. Shin's gone.
Damn it.
Blinking blood out of his eye, Spike stands: the elevator door's finally open. Nothing to do but step inside.
This is it.
Thank fuck: "Shin." Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank fuck: a friend on the inside. You saved my ass the other night; I owe you.
Shin's eyes are bright, moving from place to place; he steps past Spike and raises his gun.
Bang.
Another Syndicate guys drops, his gun still aimed at Spike's back.
I fucking owe you. Some day, when this is all over, I'll sit you down and tell you the whole damn story. Hell, I'll bring you with me when I go back: you deserve a safe place. "Where's Vicious?"
Shin's all action, though: it's a dangerous fucking game he's playing. "On the top floor. This way!" They're off to the right, down a corridor.
Perfect.
He plants one more of those remote-control explosives right... here, in the corridor. Because if things go right -- or even if they don't -- he sure as hell won't need this hallway ever again; he follows Shin around a corner just as two more men appear. Bullets fly; all he knows is the 20/15 vision in that fake eye and the way it sees those bullets in slow fucking motion, clear as anything, and he waits.
One heartbeat, two.
Click.
Boom.
So much for those guys. That hallway. That elevator, too, and now they're at another one; Shin pushes the button.
Breathe, breathe, breathe. Fuck, this arm hurts, no time for that now. It feels like forever, waiting for the elevator. If they didn't have another six, seven flights to go, he'd run up the fucking stairs. Just now, he's not sure he could; his gun hand goes to that left arm, try to stem that blood but...
Fuck.
"Shin!" Right there and Shin never saw him, never even turned to fucking look, and
Bang.
Shin crumples and drops.
Fuck! Those semiautomatic rifles kick up a shitload of debris; ducking, Spike fires and the Syndicate guy falls motionless. There's something trickling down his forehead -- maybe sweat, maybe blood -- and broken glass and twisted metal everywhere, and Shin's on his back.
In a pool of blood. No, no, no. Fuck.
"Shin!" He's on his knees, but the blood flowing out from beneath Shin's body... well, it tells a shit story with a shit ending: there's nothing he can do about it. Not a goddamn thing. Whatever's wet on his face moves from above his eye down his cheek, but Spike doesn't give a damn: Shin's trying to talk.
"Vicious... he's got to be stopped."
It's all he can do to listen: this sucks.
Shin's weak now; that's a hell of a lot of blood gone. His voice is barely audible. "I... was waiting for you to come back and take over."
And just like it happened with Annie and with Julia, there's nothing left. Shin's gone.
Damn it.
Blinking blood out of his eye, Spike stands: the elevator door's finally open. Nothing to do but step inside.
This is it.
