by L. M. Vila
“Sniper!” Meryl quietly shouted. Her words came out with urgency unlike any he could remember her saying. She had seen Michael take a bullet once before. And that ended up changing his life forever. Meryl was not ready to relive that moment. Not now, not ever.
Meryl’s words snapped Michael back into focus. He huddled up next to the car. Pieces of the puzzle started taking shape. There was a reason why they weren’t supposed to find anything here. This was the place where suspicious people came to die.
“Where are they?”
“Across the street, on top of a set of silos.”
Sitting here waiting wasn’t going to do them any good. The sniper could be moving to a new vantage point. Or he could still be waiting for another good shot. Risk or no risk, staying put wasn’t helping their situation. Michael lifted himself up and looked through the windows of the car. Finding the right angle was tough but once he got it, Michael saw what he needed to see.
“Nothing’s there.”
That sent Meryl spinning into a level of confusion and anger she had not experienced in quite some time. Her instincts usurped any rational ideas. Meryl rose from behind the vehicle and darted towards the busy streets. She couldn’t waste this opportunity.
“He’s getting away,” was the only thing that left her breath before she ran off.
“Meryl!” Michael snapped. It was futile to try and stop her. Michael knew better than that. She operated almost completely on impulses. Fortunately for them, she was almost always right.
Air cut between Michael and his vehicle letting out a sharp whistle. He quickly dashed to the side. A knife dug itself into Michael’s car, slicing a part of his sleeve, and piercing the passenger side door. Michael whipped out his pistol from its holster. The trajectory of the throwing knife pointed due east, conveniently between both buildings they had examined earlier. Michael peered ahead with gun firmly in the firing position.
He saw nothing.
Like Meryl before him, Michael ran in the direction of potential doom. Snipers classically worked in pairs. Normally, the second member of the team was a lookout. They would hold a pair of binoculars and relay information to the sniper who has their focus clearly through the lens of their rifle. This team was different. They operated with contingency in mind.
A brilliant layout in all actuality. Trying to kill someone in broad daylight without getting caught would be difficult. If you missed the first shot, there would be little chance you’d have success with a second or third without calling attention to yourself. Having a ground operative to finish the job or even clean up was not only resourceful but downright brilliant.
However, something about this second assassin rubbed Michael the wrong way. That knife throw was too precise. Especially from that distance. This second assassin underestimated Michael's reflexes. In the spirit of his partner, Michael sought to confront this individual as well. They definitely had more information about this case. Michael couldn't think of another reason why someone would try and kill him in broad daylight.
Traffic in Los Angeles was always a bitch. Meryl couldn’t risk her safety by darting through speeding cars in one of the city’s busiest streets. Heading south on Alameda was safer. Her woman’s intuition guided her in that direction. Cars continued to move quickly. Suddenly, Meryl thanked her impulses as she saw someone making a daring burst into the chaotic street.
This man moved between the cars like a bolt of lightning. If Meryl blinked, she would have missed it. Getting by speeding vehicles was a challenge for any man. Yet this one seemed to fly freely between them. As if the laws of physics did not apply.
Gawking wasn’t going to help anything. Meryl kept running forward. The target was heading east on 55th street. He was already halfway across before Meryl could distinguish any specific features. This could be the only evidence of the sniper’s existence. She noted them as best as she could while physically exerting herself. Definitely over six feet tall that was for sure, brown hair, and a very muscular build. The only thing odd about him was bulky item he carried slung over his shoulder.
Gun case was the first thing she thought of. This had to be the sniper. Meryl shouted at him just before he hit the corner and would blink out of sight behind the fence.
“Stop! Freeze!”
Her officer instincts had preceded rational thinking. He was too fast. Every time she took one step it was like he teleported another ten feet. No human could move like that. Meryl drew her pistol out in less than a second. All of that practice in the mirror paid off. Firing at him now could put civilians in danger. She was at least a hundred feet away from the intersection and he was seconds from passing it entirely. An opportunity she couldn’t afford to miss.
Meryl fired once. The bullet whizzed freely and struck the top of the case, piercing the strap. It flung wildly for a moment before landing in the street. She kept moving, now no more than fifty feet away when she heard someone shout from behind the fence.
“Der’mó!”
It must have been the assailant. He left the case. Meryl approached at full speed. She rounded the corner; the case laid motionless a few feet away. Her vision seemed betray her. An empty and veritably lifeless street stared back at Meryl. Cars speeding in the background impeded any other tracking efforts. There was no way to tell what direction he went or where he was heading.
Meryl began running through her options. Time was ticking away. Giving chase randomly was too risky. If he planned to escape then it appears he got his wish. However, there’s still a chance he would run back and make contact with his target. Meryl sprinted back to the car with the dropped case in tow praying she was wrong.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Began yelling in sync within the walls of Kurtis’ brain. He had screwed up once again. The woman had balls. Kurtis would find it difficult trying to defeat her without killing her. If not for the General’s orders, she would already be dead.
Irritation brewed deeply. He wanted to go back and snap that woman’s neck. Maybe even twist it off and send it back to the police as a message to stop screwing with him. The plan, unfortunately, did not dictate that scenario. Capture by law enforcement was out of the question. Kurtis had no legal documentation or identification. As far as America was concerned, he did not exist. Much like the building the two suits were searching for.
Kurtis knew that woman would not catch up with him. No one could. He had to make it back to the vehicle and regroup. This assassination attempt may have been delayed but it certainly wasn’t over. Hopefully that woman had more bite than bark.
Michael reached the back of the building. Dozens of tractors sat around, not a soul in sight thus increasing his growing apprehension. He immediately thought of one of his favorite author’s take on these kinds of situations. Sun Tzu said if you know only yourself and not your enemy then victory cannot be certain. The enemy surely had the advantage here.
He preceded slowly, gun still drawn. Michael locked his mind, focused on tracing any abnormality. Sliding between the trailers proved tricky. He couldn’t afford to stand out and the open. There were too many variables, too many places to hide. Michael could hear movement. Sounds emanated from inside the trailer. Workers were loading or unloading products from this area. Ignoring the noise was almost impossible.
More movement. This time it was quicker, more abrupt. It was coming from above. Michael spun his head upwards. He caught a glimpse of a dark object traveling towards him. The sun painted a profile as it descended. Michael caught the weight of the individual attempting to attack him. A short blade was firmly grasped in one of their hands, inches from his neck. Distance had to be extended in order to survive this encounter. Michael fell back, the assailant still firmly in his grip. He stuck his leg in between their bodies and kicked back, rolling out of their grasp. A textbook vortex throw.
Picking himself off the ground, Michael caught his attacker red handed. The woman performed a cartwheel and landed safely on her feet. This one was well trained. A very skilled pa
ir to send after one FBI agent.
The female assassin readied her stance. She stood boldly, almost taunting Michael to come forth. Her cocky nature was unusual for this type of work. Normally assassins were quick to get in, kill, and leave just as soon as they came. Michael then realized what she had to be arrogant about when he noticed his pistol had left his possession and firmly rested in hers.
Seika dangled the agent’s weapon in her hand. This was a glorified form of castration. There was nothing he could do now. The job was about to be completed. Conversely, her brother Seimon would not be avenged in such a cowardly manner. He fought for his life against this in man and was defeated in hand to hand combat. Seika had to test this man. Someone could not have defeated Seimon on a fluke. The legend would be challenged.
She started to unload the gun. First she dropped the magazine and tossed the cartridge aside. Then she popped the last bullet in the chamber and allowed it to drop at her feet. Now the weapon was useless.
“Michael Madison.” Her voice was soft but cut the air like the knife she threw beforehand. “You have stolen the life of my brother. I, Kaze Kunimoto am here to collect yours.”
Although she spoke Japanese, Michael knew exactly what she said. The name Kunimoto was somehow familiar. Memories started to form but were put on hold as Seika moved. She tossed the gun to Michael. A typical move for someone who believed their prey relied only on weapons. Michael would teach her the hard lesson of deceiving looks.
The gun released from her hands, tossing it gently into the air. It was meant to slide near his feet upon landing. Michael saw this as his opportunity. He drew the extra magazine from his pocket, sprinting ahead and dove for the falling weapon. It landed safely in his hands and he slammed the magazine into the chamber, completing his forward roll. Sliding to his knees, Michael couldn’t waste time with aiming and fired off two rounds.
He was incredibly quick. Seika almost missed the action entirely. There wasn’t time for retaliation. She fled off to the side. The trailers protected her from oncoming attacks. Such a careless move on her part. He was more cunning that she had estimated.
Michael got his bearings, refusing to shake of the dirt that collected on his suit and went after the girl. Thankfully his Glock was more durable than the average pistol. Michael pushed into the open area; his right arm pointed forward firmly gripping the weapon.
A kick launched forth. It connected right on target. The nerves in Michael’s elbow blared heavily. His hand lost grip of the weapon. She targeted his funny bone and hit it dead on. A sign of a well trained martial artist. She threw a punch right for his midsection. Michael had caught on to her speed. He parried the attack and sent her fist flying into the hard steel trailer.
More attacks followed. Seika was relentless. She unloaded everything she could at him. Kick after punch. Punch after kick. None of her strikes went through. Michael had blocked or parried everything in her arsenal. That didn’t dissuade her, not in the slightest.
Seika pushed on, harder and faster. Michael responded to the advance immediately. He started to back up but doing that while keeping up with her attacks was not easy. A heavy roundhouse kick came high, right for Michael’s head. He ducked it and felt the wind cut the back of his neck. Seika spun herself and launched a side kick. It connected against his sternum. Finally an opening.
Her celebration was short lived. Michael had caught her foot after the kick. Even with her heel digging into his skin, the pain was no match for his determination. A side kick was a very dangerous move. If blocked or caught, it leaves you wide open and unbalanced.
Opportunity rarely knocks when in combat with a skilled opponent. Michael swept his right leg up and connected square on his challenger’s knee. He watched her attempting to rebalance. Time to strike. Michael twisted his body quickly and launched a side kick of his own. It blasted Seika square in the rib cage, sliding her body off balance and throwing her to the ground.
Cement never felt so vile. Seika rolled with the blow and immediately twirled back into a crouching defensive position. This had proven to be more than she bargained for. In all her life, Seika had never faced an opponent so unique yet powerful. Seimon’s defeat started to make sense with every passing second. This style of combat was exceptional, unlike any kind she’s faced before. His movements and attacks flowed without waste. Even now as he stands before her covered in dirt he doesn’t even shed a single emotion. Not a smile, not a frown, not even a bead of sweat. She was willing to admit one thing. The legends of this horrifying man paled in comparison to the reality.
Michael took a step backward. While she was still reeling from the kick, he located his dropped weapon. It rested only a few feet away. Seika was on to his game. His attack hurt, but it wasn’t enough to keep her down. She burst to her feet and began a second assault. Her kicks and came with an added dose of ferocity. Nerves burned in Michael’s arms. Every attack spiked pain messages that were forwarded directly to his brain. He couldn’t keep up parrying this onslaught for long.
Not too far now, the gun laid silent on top of a section of uneven pavement. Seika pressed her attacks. This was going to be difficult. Every swing required Michael’s attention. She wasn’t blindly flailing her arms and legs. This was a well coordinated combatant. Michael’s martial arts prowess was being tested. At this pace, his grade seemed to be slipping.
Another roundhouse kick from the woman’s right leg aimed high drew another opening. Michael quickly ducked underneath the oncoming blow. He slapped her leg right at the back of the knee, sending her return stance off balance.
The gun was under his foot. Michael slid the gun, pressing it to a semi-standing position and flicked it behind him. It jumped up, bouncing off of the back of the nearby trailer. Michael twisted his body, swinging his arm towards the direction of the flying weapon. Flawlessly, he caught it in mid flight. Michael unloaded another pair of rounds not a second sooner. The bullets flew through the air catching the brick wall on the opposing side of the street.
Seika had vanished.
Michael tightened the grip on his weapon. He couldn’t hear a sound. Almost like she disappeared into nothing. Michael moved away from the trailers and slightly kneeled checking beneath them. Seika may have gotten away. He moved slowly from trailer to trailer, his weapon still clung closely beside him. Dirt scraped beneath Michael’s feet as he walked. There weren’t many trailers left. Second by second, he was approaching the last.
A bolt of silver shot forth. The corner of his eye caught the projectile. Instincts took over. Michael pointed his gun and fired. Steel clanged, releasing a sharp stinging sound through his ears. The blade bounced in response to Michael’s shot and spun wildly. His shoulder burned. It sliced through his suit jacket and knocked him down. The ground welcomed him harshly.
Footsteps scattered away. In the distance, Michael heard a vehicle speeding. His head was still rattling from bouncing of the pavement. Words were shouted. Michael attempted to pick himself up, his body still reeling from the fall. More yelling commenced. The car sped away going west on the street ahead. His ears filtered the ringing. The words started clearing up.
“Michael!” Yelled a familiar voice.
Standing up proved to be easier as the seconds passed. Thankfully, Michael wasn’t incredibly hurt, just stunned. The shock of what had transpired still replayed in his mind. Meryl approached, weapon still in hand.
“Are you alright?”
Michael nodded.
“You look all banged up, what happened?” Her words were sensitive, full of emotion. Michael was surprised just how much they resonated when he heard them.
“Another attack.”
“From what?” Meryl examined him from head to toe. “A short tornado?”
Her attempt at humor was surprisingly relieving.
“What about the other?”
“Got away unfortunately. Not surprising though. He was fast. Almost like he was superhuman or something.”
Michael's brow tig
htened, unsure of what to make of Meryl's analysis and soon, she started to giggle. “But that can’t be true. Must have been the way the cars moved while he was running through them. Probably looked faster than he was.”
“See him enough to ID?”
“Definitely. No need to sit with a sketch artist. He dropped a large case. Probably prints all over it. I’ve got it by the car.”
“Good work.” Words of praise. Meryl and Michael shared a relationship once for many years as equals. His admiration was a bit inapt. She wasn’t expecting to hear that. Especially from him. Ever.
“The sniper also said something while he was running off. Something weird.”
“What was it?”
“God, for the life of me -” Meryl was fighting her brain. Searching endlessly for the knowledge she required. “Something along the lines of deermoo.”
Michael pondered for a brief moment. “Der’mó?”
“That’s it! How did you know that?”
“It’s Russian.” A fairly common word given the right circumstances. “What happened?”
“It was right after I shot the case off his back. He said it pretty damn loud too.”
“You shot what?”
This was the part she had already forgotten. Meryl tried to piece together what happened. Adrenalin was running reasonably high. “He was running so fast. I was just trying to slow him down.”
Reckless was the first thing that popped in Michael’s head. She could have endangered herself as well as others. Then again, this was her modus operendi. Meryl was quite the loose cannon back in the L.A.P.D. They spent many nights together filling out paperwork for her mishaps. Actually, it was some of the best times they had.
“Be careful next time.”
That was odd. No punishment. No scolding. He must be new to this training thing. Or it was a bit of friendly courtesy.
Curiosity still tugged away at Meryl. “So, what was it that he said? The name of his gun perhaps? Calling for someone in particular. Was it the name of the other attacker?”
