Trail Mix #2 Around the Corner
Author: Mister J
Challenge: Trail Mix #2, Around the Corner
Word Count: 1,192
Rating: PG-13
Story: Untitled
A/N: This introduces Elizabeth, James' younger sister. They get along well enough with each other, and haven't tried to seriously kill each other. That counts for something, right?
Normally, at three in the morning, Paris streets were empty. The 1 a.m. curfew even deterred most criminals these days. However, two figures stood on a street corner, staring at an apartment building down the street.
James pulled a silver cigarette case from his jacket pocket. "How many teams are you sending in?”
His sister didn't look away from the building. "One."
"How many?"
"Five men."
The case went back into the pocket, and a lighter appeared in his hand. "Are you sure that's enough?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
As he lit the cigarette, James remembered walking into a very similar apartment building almost forty years ago. When he'd reached the target's room, a nasty surprise was waiting for him on the floor. He snapped the lid shut, and shrugged. Through a cloud of blue smoke he said,
"No reason."
Elizabeth turned, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. "You're holding out on me."
"No."
She moved in front of him, just inches away, and looked up into his face. He recognized it as her interrogation face. Eyes narrowed, nostrils slightly flared, and her lips pursed slightly in concentration. James supposed that it did make her look more determined, but he was unimpressed.
"What do you know?" Her voice was low, almost a growl.
James looked down at her, his eyes glancing at her sharp cheekbones--the family trait--and he lied. "I don't know anything."
Elizabeth snorted. "Yeah, right."
She leaned against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. James could feel the holster under her arm pressing against his side. To anyone watching, they might've looked like lovers, he thought. His mouth twitched around the cigarette. How could he shake her off?
Soft fingers caressed his chin and ran down his throat. He tried not to flinch. "Why did you come with me, James? I know it's not because you care."
He knocked the ash from his cigarette. "Why do you think this will work on me?"
She laughed silently, but he felt the vibrations from her body. "I don't." Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder. "I know you'd rather play with other boys. Besides," she toyed with the knot in his tie, "we're family."
James pulled on the cigarette, drawing the smoke down into his lungs. They were family--he had to admit that. But when your siblings are so much younger than you, it's hard to remember that. After a while, they became people you knew better than others, people you trusted a little more than others, and people who you cared for a little more than others.
All that considered, his constant problem remained. How much help should he give them?
"You're thinking." the growl returned to her voice. "What about?"
Smoke poured back out of his lungs, rushing from his mouth. "You."
His sister pulled back, her arm falling away from his waist. "Me?"
"Yes."
His sister cocked her head to one side. "Why?"
More ash fell to the sidewalk. "Because you're here. Why is that?"
"To make sure this goes right."
"I know you weren't going to observe before, when you approved the mission.” More ash fell to the ground. “The target’s also a 73-year-old man whose glory days are behind him. So, why are you here?”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. James noticed that her fingers brushed against the bulge her holster made. "I found out you were going to ‘observe.’"
James turned, taking in the empty crossroad. Old buildings, built in the mid-1800s, he guessed, rose up into the night air. The cobblestone streets were completely empty, devoid even of parked cars. After a quick drag on his cigarette, James looked back at his sister. "It's quiet here. I thought it would make for a nice break."
"Did you just make a joke?"
"I believe so, yes."
She blinked. "That was terrible."
James shrugged, tossing what was left of the cigarette into a storm drain. "It's not--"
That was when gouts of flame erupted from the top floor of the apartment building. James and Elizabeth ducked out of reflex. Through the roar of the explosion, James caught a whistling sound. He'd heard it many times before--shrapnel.
Again, out of reflex, he leapt toward the nearest wall. Catching Elizabeth with his arm, he flatted her against the cold brick.
Behind him, he heard something drive into the cobblestone road. It was a heavy sound, like railroad ties falling into place. Glancing over his shoulder, James saw a three foot long piece of rebar sticking out of the street.
The explosion's echo faded into night, and James dropped the arm pinning his sister to the bricks. He looked back at her, and took small satisfaction at her open mouth and wide eyes.
She took a breath. "What the hell just happened."
Walking out into the street, James sighed. "Your target escaped."
"What?"
He pulled the rebar out of the ground. It took some effort, as at least five inches was buried in the stone. James looked around, and saw at least thirty more spikes driven into the road or other buildings. Examining the end, he noticed that the end was sharpened to a near-perfect point.
"Francois is gone. He set a trap for your men." He pointed the spike at her.
"He, he..." Elizabeth pulled away from the wall, joining him in the street. Looking around the corner, she took in the fire engulfing the top floor of the apartment. "He knew we were coming."
"Appears so."
"Wait." She whirled, sending her hair flaring out behind her. "You knew this was going to happen. Didn't you?"
“No, I suspected it.”
“You bastard! You let me waste five good men.”
James let the metal fall to the cobbles, a sharp ring echoed down the street. “Your men must not have been that good.” He pulled another cigarette from his case. “Maybe Internal Security should tighten its standards.”
Elizabeth seemed to quiver where she stood and James could almost feel the anger radiating from her. As he lit the cigarette, he smiled.
“This is your fault!” She snarled. “If you’d caught him back then, I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”
“He wasn’t my primary target. When Francois disappeared, Mother told me to forget about him.” He shrugged. “Granted, that was after he left a similar, if smaller bomb, in his own home.”
“You’ll hunt him down.” She slowly walked over to him, her right hand curled into a talon, twitching. “You’ll kill him.”
“No, I won’t.”
“You will.”
“I only take orders from Mother.” James punctuated the statement with a ring of smoke.
“You’ll...” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ll take it up with her.” She stalked past him, retreating into the shadows and casting a long shadow along the street.
James muttered under his breath, knowing she would hear, “You do that.”
He walked over to the corner, and leaned against the building. Smoke curled into the air from his cigarette, mixing with that from the building. As he watched the flames lick against the sky, James grinned. Sometimes, he thought, you have to learn it hard way.
Challenge: Trail Mix #2, Around the Corner
Word Count: 1,192
Rating: PG-13
Story: Untitled
A/N: This introduces Elizabeth, James' younger sister. They get along well enough with each other, and haven't tried to seriously kill each other. That counts for something, right?
Normally, at three in the morning, Paris streets were empty. The 1 a.m. curfew even deterred most criminals these days. However, two figures stood on a street corner, staring at an apartment building down the street.
James pulled a silver cigarette case from his jacket pocket. "How many teams are you sending in?”
His sister didn't look away from the building. "One."
"How many?"
"Five men."
The case went back into the pocket, and a lighter appeared in his hand. "Are you sure that's enough?"
"Why wouldn't it be?"
As he lit the cigarette, James remembered walking into a very similar apartment building almost forty years ago. When he'd reached the target's room, a nasty surprise was waiting for him on the floor. He snapped the lid shut, and shrugged. Through a cloud of blue smoke he said,
"No reason."
Elizabeth turned, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. "You're holding out on me."
"No."
She moved in front of him, just inches away, and looked up into his face. He recognized it as her interrogation face. Eyes narrowed, nostrils slightly flared, and her lips pursed slightly in concentration. James supposed that it did make her look more determined, but he was unimpressed.
"What do you know?" Her voice was low, almost a growl.
James looked down at her, his eyes glancing at her sharp cheekbones--the family trait--and he lied. "I don't know anything."
Elizabeth snorted. "Yeah, right."
She leaned against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. James could feel the holster under her arm pressing against his side. To anyone watching, they might've looked like lovers, he thought. His mouth twitched around the cigarette. How could he shake her off?
Soft fingers caressed his chin and ran down his throat. He tried not to flinch. "Why did you come with me, James? I know it's not because you care."
He knocked the ash from his cigarette. "Why do you think this will work on me?"
She laughed silently, but he felt the vibrations from her body. "I don't." Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder. "I know you'd rather play with other boys. Besides," she toyed with the knot in his tie, "we're family."
James pulled on the cigarette, drawing the smoke down into his lungs. They were family--he had to admit that. But when your siblings are so much younger than you, it's hard to remember that. After a while, they became people you knew better than others, people you trusted a little more than others, and people who you cared for a little more than others.
All that considered, his constant problem remained. How much help should he give them?
"You're thinking." the growl returned to her voice. "What about?"
Smoke poured back out of his lungs, rushing from his mouth. "You."
His sister pulled back, her arm falling away from his waist. "Me?"
"Yes."
His sister cocked her head to one side. "Why?"
More ash fell to the sidewalk. "Because you're here. Why is that?"
"To make sure this goes right."
"I know you weren't going to observe before, when you approved the mission.” More ash fell to the ground. “The target’s also a 73-year-old man whose glory days are behind him. So, why are you here?”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. James noticed that her fingers brushed against the bulge her holster made. "I found out you were going to ‘observe.’"
James turned, taking in the empty crossroad. Old buildings, built in the mid-1800s, he guessed, rose up into the night air. The cobblestone streets were completely empty, devoid even of parked cars. After a quick drag on his cigarette, James looked back at his sister. "It's quiet here. I thought it would make for a nice break."
"Did you just make a joke?"
"I believe so, yes."
She blinked. "That was terrible."
James shrugged, tossing what was left of the cigarette into a storm drain. "It's not--"
That was when gouts of flame erupted from the top floor of the apartment building. James and Elizabeth ducked out of reflex. Through the roar of the explosion, James caught a whistling sound. He'd heard it many times before--shrapnel.
Again, out of reflex, he leapt toward the nearest wall. Catching Elizabeth with his arm, he flatted her against the cold brick.
Behind him, he heard something drive into the cobblestone road. It was a heavy sound, like railroad ties falling into place. Glancing over his shoulder, James saw a three foot long piece of rebar sticking out of the street.
The explosion's echo faded into night, and James dropped the arm pinning his sister to the bricks. He looked back at her, and took small satisfaction at her open mouth and wide eyes.
She took a breath. "What the hell just happened."
Walking out into the street, James sighed. "Your target escaped."
"What?"
He pulled the rebar out of the ground. It took some effort, as at least five inches was buried in the stone. James looked around, and saw at least thirty more spikes driven into the road or other buildings. Examining the end, he noticed that the end was sharpened to a near-perfect point.
"Francois is gone. He set a trap for your men." He pointed the spike at her.
"He, he..." Elizabeth pulled away from the wall, joining him in the street. Looking around the corner, she took in the fire engulfing the top floor of the apartment. "He knew we were coming."
"Appears so."
"Wait." She whirled, sending her hair flaring out behind her. "You knew this was going to happen. Didn't you?"
“No, I suspected it.”
“You bastard! You let me waste five good men.”
James let the metal fall to the cobbles, a sharp ring echoed down the street. “Your men must not have been that good.” He pulled another cigarette from his case. “Maybe Internal Security should tighten its standards.”
Elizabeth seemed to quiver where she stood and James could almost feel the anger radiating from her. As he lit the cigarette, he smiled.
“This is your fault!” She snarled. “If you’d caught him back then, I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”
“He wasn’t my primary target. When Francois disappeared, Mother told me to forget about him.” He shrugged. “Granted, that was after he left a similar, if smaller bomb, in his own home.”
“You’ll hunt him down.” She slowly walked over to him, her right hand curled into a talon, twitching. “You’ll kill him.”
“No, I won’t.”
“You will.”
“I only take orders from Mother.” James punctuated the statement with a ring of smoke.
“You’ll...” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ll take it up with her.” She stalked past him, retreating into the shadows and casting a long shadow along the street.
James muttered under his breath, knowing she would hear, “You do that.”
He walked over to the corner, and leaned against the building. Smoke curled into the air from his cigarette, mixing with that from the building. As he watched the flames lick against the sky, James grinned. Sometimes, he thought, you have to learn it hard way.