The Story of Blood and Roses

"He didn't put a hit on me," I told him. The challenging rise of his brow sent a spike of anger through me. "He's not like you," I attacked. That seemed to throw him off his track, only if for a moment or so. He recovered quickly, giving me a glare and then stepping closer to grab my shoulder.

"We can talk on our way. Where are you staying?" he asked me, a sudden change overcame him. The glare, which was still in place, was accompanied with the tone of firm concern.

"I would be an idiot to reveal my shelter to you."

"Your location has been compromised already, from what I understand. No point hiding," he said smugly. All I heard was, 'Yes, you are an idiot, then.'

I ground my teeth together but said nothing.

I checked my phone silently, and let him guide me. I might have mumbled the name of the hotel I was currently hiding in. He had shaken his head and chuckled.

"You're in plain sight!" I didn't understand why he would find that amusing.

"Sometimes, no one looks at the most obvious places-"

"Obviously, that didn't work out well for you," he snickered, but then he turned stoic. "Who is it?" he asked gruffly, probably knowing the answer.

"You're in a good mood all of a sudden," I muttered gruffly, evading the question. I pressed the cell phone to my ear and let it ring. I had received an awful lot of missed calls from Jacob. I could only imagine what he would want to tell me about the situation. A little insight into why I'm being dragged out and shot out would have been nice, though.

"Hi," I breathed into the cell phone awkwardly.

"I have been calling you for so long!" Jacob replied, frantically. "I thought they got to you already."

"Fortunately for me, they didn't. And we speak again..."

"Listen... I really didn't know that someone put a hit on you," he apologized.

"I know, don't worry about it. This is why I asked you to change the policy on the skimming system. One of these days you're going to receive a hit on the President and you won't be able to do anything to stop an agent from fulfilling the mission. You don't want the bad word; change the procedure as fast as you can."

"Yes," he breathed. "Listen, Rodriquez Francis put the hit on you." I stopped, suddenly, shocked by the revelation.

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"He is taking over, and trying to not make the situation hostile. The only way that can happen is if the murderer gets done away with. They saw you, so you are the target." I sighed in frustration.

"This is so tiring," I growled. "How many?" I asked indignantly.

"Five."

"Four, now," I mumbled. "Is there anything else I need to know?" I could hear him say no. "And stop sending in agents who have no clue what they are doing. They are just kids." With that, I hung up on him.

"There is someone around the corner," I heard Anthony whisper. His grip on my shoulder loosened, leaving me to focus on the scene and staying alive. I spotted the silhouette at the first go. Definitely female, but I was not sure if this person was sent to kill me or not. I couldn't just shoot at a random person on the street. Even I had a conscience when it came to these things.

"We need to get closer," I muttered, anxiously walking beside him. His hand brushed against mine with each pass. I refused to look down and blow my concentration.

I saw the shadow shifting, something emerging from beside them, and I fired.

"Good one," he told me as we jogged over to the body.

I turned the head over slightly and flinched.

"You know her?" I nodded. "Student, too?" I nodded again.

"She was too busy checking her cell phone to concentrate on my first class with her," I began. "I shot her hand." Suddenly, a surge of guilt filled me. It was so unlike anything I had felt after killing someone. There was no intent or grief to undo it, but just a displeasing feeling... something I didn't want to feel again.

"Three more to go," he said, tugging my hand. "I'm sorry," he told me, trying to lead me out.

"Why is this happening, now? I just want to stop running for a moment and breathe, goddamnit!" I screamed.

"It's okay," he hushed me, his hands cupping my cheeks. "No more running, I promise. Today will be the last day." He promised. I nodded, trying to believe him. "Now take a calm breath." I did. "Let's go." I followed him.

.

Two more people were killed by our hands by the time we reached the hotel I was staying at. Anthony seemed to be on alert, and he felt none of the displeasure I did, every time I heard another dead body hit the floor.

I had this odd feeling that things were going to change once we entered the ten by ten room. I had no clue what, but I could feel the tingling of my nerves foreshadowing big things to come.

Somewhere down the line, he had grasped my hand firmly. It swayed between us as we crossed the road and entered the hotel. My keys, which had been placed at the reception for safekeeping, were taken and then we were off.

My thoughts were not coherent when we opened the door. He seemed ill at ease, and I out of my mind. He gave me a slow smile as he ushered me in and locked the door behind me. I watched in fascination as he checked the lock over at least five times, almost as compulsively as me, and then turned to look at me. His eyes were bright, with a certain amount of restraint that I had never seen in him. That day, I got to see a very different side of Anthony, or it would be better to say that I rediscovered that side of Anthony that was there, listening and guiding, steering me in the right direction. I just hoped that on that occasion, he would not push his biased opinion on me. And he didn't.

"One left," he sighed.

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