Travis
Shoes thudded on the floor above me. I pointed the Uzi at the top of the stairs in my right hand, steadying what I knew would be horrendous recoil by clasping my left palm over my right wrist.
Two men ran down the stairs, guns held low as they sprinted. I didn't even have to aim. The UZI bucked violently in my hands as I held down the trigger. I sprayed bullets left to right at the men in an indiscriminate hail. They both tumbled and fell to the floor in a heap, motionless.
I dropped the UZI and drew my short 9mm pistol from my boot, clicking off the safety. I unclipped my combat knife, moving it to the back of my pants, out of sight. After a moment to ensure the two who’d charged down the stairs were in fact dead, I ran up the stairs two at a time with my gun raised in front of me, ready.
Other than a giant Russian corpse with a huge hole in his head, there was only one man left standing. He held Scarlett savagely by her hair, with a long knife inches from her neck.
My heart lurched at the sight of her.
Head held high, her gaze was defiant. She smiled when she saw me, tears streaming down her lovely face.
I froze. One wrong move and it had all been for nothing. I looked at the Russian. His face was calm, but his eyes blazed.
“Travis, how nice that you could join us. I’m sorry I was not able to be more…hospitable. In other circumstances, I’m sure I could have offered you a lucrative deal, but alas…” He motioned at the body near my feet.
“If you think I’d ever consider working for you, think again, you slimy fuck. I’m not here for money.” I glanced at Scarlett.
“Aha! I see now. So you are more than just a bodyguard? How touching.” He sneered. “If I kill her now, all of your considerable efforts will be for nothing. Then I will kill you.” His face contorted, twitching with anger.
“I don’t think so,” I said calmly, calling his bluff. “You kill her, you got nothing. All of this will be for nothing. Weeks, months of preparation. Promises to your buyer you can’t keep. Debts you can’t pay.” I looked him in the eyes. “Listen to me, because I have one final offer for you.” I threw the pistol I was holding down the stairs behind me, the metal clattering loudly on the wooden steps. “I’ll give you one chance to kill me, you dirty Russian fuck. I’m unarmed. That was my last gun I just threw away.” I held my hands up.
“Put your fucking hands on your head,” he spat. “Do it!”
I complied.
He pushed Scarlett behind him, and she fell to the floor with a heavy thud.
My hands were on my head as he cautiously approached, knife held in his right hand at his waist. He inched forward, incredulous as I stood stock still. His eyes were wide, mixed with anger, adrenaline, and fear. He dropped into a fighting stance, his left arm raised in a guard.
He thrust the knife at my gut, pushing it forward from his hips and expelling air as he did so.
I twisted my body to my left, and the knife slashed through air. Then I reached behind my back to draw my own combat knife. In one fluid motion, I brought the knife up into his gut, twisting it brutally as I yanked it back.
Amazingly, he pivoted as I stabbed him, sending his knife slashing across my chest. He’d swung the blade wildly at my neck in a last-ditch attempt to kill me outright. I leaned back, the tip of the blade merely grazing my skin and ripping my t-shirt open.
I moved back, sidestepping to put myself between him and Scarlett as I kicked away the gun lying near the big dead Russian as I did so.
The man in front of me struggled to stand, blood pouring from the wound in his gut. Even with immediate medical aid, it would still likely be fatal.
“You bastard. This is my favorite t-shirt,” I said calmly, standing a few meters from him.
He laughed softly. “You Americans think you are so funny. It won’t be funny when my employers find you and kill you! I’ll be waiting for you in hell!” He laughed maniacally, blood frothing from his mouth.
Now it was my turn to laugh. He looked up at me, frowning. Blood loss had forced him to his knees and he held onto a chair behind him for support. “You mean the rogue government agents who hired you?” I said. “I don’t think so. Last I heard, two were dead. And the one you were working for—well, let’s just say someone I know was onto him. He won’t be alive for much longer.” I shrugged. “Probably already dead, actually.”
The man in front of me was a vision of rage and disgust as he stood through the pain, taking a faltering step towards me. “You… you fucki…”
But before he could finish his words, he collapsed to the floor. I kicked the knife away from his hand as I approached and checked his pulse.
He was dead.