“Alright I’m headin’ out.” Allen told Twilight.

“Where are you going? To another practice session?” she asked, noting the guitar case slung on his back.

“Uh, no. This is actually the band’s last big show. We’ll probably only be there for an hour or two.”

Twilight looked disappointed. “That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, we all agreed it wasn’t working. A small-time band like ours never stood a chance in a city like this.”

“Too many bigger acts. I understand.” she said with a nod. “Still, I bet you guys will sound fantastic.”

Allen nodded appreciatively. “Thanks. Hey, what do you say we go out for lunch when I get back? We gotta celebrate and find somewhere to spend all the tips I’m about to get.”

“That sounds great! I’d love to!”

“Great. I should be back at about two, and then we’ll head to a joint I know.” Allen said as he walked out the door.

“Sounds like a plan. Good luck!” She called.

“Thanks!”

Allen then shut and locked the door, stuck the case in the back seat, and set off for Skeeter’s to trade his car for the piece of ecocrap he had waiting for him.

((((((*******))))))

“All agents, be advised: Goodman takes the stage in half an hour. Stay alert and report any suspicious persons or activity. We cannot allow the Ghost to escape again.”

Neither Jeff nor Carl responded, instead opting to continue watching the Palazzo’s parking lot. Both were seated at an outdoor café table watching for any signs of their quarry. There were eleven other pairs stationed around the building doing the same thing, and they also had Avalon watching the inside of the hotel through its security cameras.

They’d taken the Ghost’s last escape quite personally. Carl was upset that, for the first time since his teens, someone had managed to outdrive him. Jeff, being the one in charge during the chase, had received many strings of abuse from his comrades, and they just kept coming.

“Like they could’ve done any better.” he said sourly to himself.

“What’s that?” asked Carl.

“Nothing. Just keep your eyes on the lot.” he replied.

Carl looked at his partner. “Hey, don’t let those tools get to you. If it had been anyone else in the passenger seat spotting for me, we probably never would’ve even seen the guy to begin with.”

Jeff was about to respond when his radio sounded again. “Hey Jeff, try not to screw up this time, alright? We don’t want to have to clean up your mess again.” Reese sneered. Reese had just enough superiority over Jeff to punish him for insubordination or retaliation of any kind. His mission in life was to make Jeff’s life a living hell, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Hey Jeff? That required a response.”

Jeff clenched his teeth, but responded as politely as he could. “Of course, sir. I won’t.”

There was a snicker on the other end. “You better not.”

Jeff bit back the retort that was balancing on the end of his tongue. “One day, Reese…”

“Calm down bro.” said Carl. “There’s no need to give him the satisfaction.”

“I know.” he said, taking a breath.

“In an ideal world, his ass would be back in D.C. scrubbing toilets or something.”

“No.” Jeff corrected. “In an ideal world, he’d be the one we’re hunting for. And we wouldn’t need him alive.”

“Yeah, there you go.” Carl said chuckling. “One can dream, though.”

“They certainly can.” Jeff replied with a smile, returning his attention to the parking lot.

((((((*******))))))

The lobby of the Palazzo was relatively quiet. There were one or two groups scattered around the room engaged in casual conversation, but not making enough noise to disturb the peace. Even so, no one noticed the figure in the light brown trench coat as he crossed the lobby to the reception desk.

“Good afternoon, love.” he said with a heavy English accent.

The receptionist hastily stowed her phone under the desk. “Good afternoon, sir! Welcome to the Palazzo hotel! How can I help you?” she said with a nervous smile.

The man smiled warmly. “Checking in. Should be under ‘Johnathan Demetrius’.”

The lady typed on the computer for a few seconds. “Ah, yes. Your room is ready Mr. Demetrius. Would you like any help with your bags?”

He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. I can handle my own luggage.”

“Alright then.” she said as she produced his card. “You are in room thirteen-zero-eight. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Much appreciated.” The man said as he took the card. He then quietly added, gesturing under the desk, “Nice shot by the way.”

The receptionist’s eyes widened considerably.

“Don’t worry, love.” he continued. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thank you.” she whispered, smiling for real this time.

The man then walked over to one of the elevators and pushed the button, humming quietly to himself and lightly swinging a worn-out guitar case as he waited for the doors to open.

((((((*******))))))

City Hall

Goodman straightened his tie for what felt like the millionth time.

“You’re on in ten, sir.”

“Understood.” he replied to the stagehand.

Goodman really did not want to be here doing this, but he didn’t have much of a choice if he wanted to stay out of prison, let alone in office. Somebody in financial had managed to leak some sensitive information which partially linked him to the death of his last opponent’s campaign manager. The press was having an absolute field day with the information.

He couldn’t ignore what the people were saying about him, nor could he deny that most of it was the truth. Of course, he didn’t plan on telling them that. He now had to put these people’s fears to rest, or at least shut them up long enough to do something to cover up his involvement.

“Hopefully they’re still as gullible as they were last time.” he said to himself, then shook his head and smiled. “Who am I kidding? Of course they are. This’ll be over in time for lunch.”

Suddenly, his phone rang. “Speaking of lunch...”

He cleared his throat before answering. “Mr. Freid! A pleasure as always!”

“Goodman.” the caller responded simply. “We are still meeting to negotiate the new contract, correct?”

“Of course! I’ll be there at two o’ clock sharp.”

“Thank you. I appreciate you meeting us like this.”

“Mr. Freid, you and your men have been invaluable assets in my campaign. Your request for a renegotiation of our contract is only to be expected. In fact, I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

“On in five.” the stage director called.

“I’ll be there at two, sir. Just make sure I stay alive long enough to make it there!” he said with a chuckle.

“Of course. See you soon.” said Freid, right before the line went dead.

Goodman pocketed the phone and straightened his tie again. “Yes. Nothing to worry about.”

((((((*******))))))

Twilight was bored.

There wasn’t a word to describe just how very, very bored she was.

She had read every book they’d gotten from the library already. She’d investigated every aspect of the house, managing to fill one of many spare notebooks that Allen had given her. She’d even braved the internet again, managed once again to come across some very obscene pictures, slammed the top down and thrown the device across the room in her frustration, then used her magic to quickly repair it. Now, she was stretched across the couch with nothing to do but blow the occasional strand of hair out of her eyes.

She wished Allen was here. He might be a bit shady and keep a ton of secrets, but he was still a nice person to be around. He’d probably make some wisecrack about how bored she looked, after which she’d probably transfigure his hair into a flower pot or something to get on his nerves.

Maybe it was because of his confidence, his easygoing nature, or because he’d saved her life. Whatever the case, he was one of the quickest friends she’d ever made.

Now if only I knew a little more about him.

Twilight wasn’t stupid. She’d noticed how hesitant he’d been when she’d asked him about his family, and the intentional change of subject when she’d asked what happened to them. He was a mystery she planned on solving.

Maybe, during lunch, he’d be in a good enough mood to answer those questions. If not, at least she’d have tried, and at least she could get out of the house for a bit.

Until then, however, she was stuck here with nothing to do.

She looked around, once more searching desperately for something to do. Her eyes settled on the T.V. remote sitting on the coffee table. She stared at it for a moment, then shrugged and levitated it over to her hand.

She took a moment to study the device, then pushed a button labeled ‘power’ at the top. The T.V. flickered to life, and a man in a tuxedo appeared on screen,

“-now go live to Samantha Gautier, with coverage on the mayor’s city-wide address.”

The picture changed to that of a woman in a dark blue coat. Twilight let the remote drop to the floor and lay there listening to the reporter.

This might be interesting. she thought.

((((((*******))))))

Allen swiped his keycard through the lock and stepped inside the hotel room. He sat his suitcase and guitar case on the bed and took his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the Administrator, then turned the phone on speaker and set it on the bed so he could work.

“Hey, you in position yet?” asked the Administrator when they picked up.

“Yeah, just getting set up.” Allen replied, grunting with the effort of moving a heavy writing desk towards the window.

His employer was silent for a moment. “What are you doing right now?”

Allen finished moving the desk and stood up, panting. “I don’t want people to see my rifle barrel sticking out of the window, but I still need a stable surface to set it on.” he explained as he extended the rifles bipod and secured the silencer. “So, I just moved this desk over to the window.”

“Oh.” the Administrator said. “Well then…alright. You’re wearing gloves right?”

“Of course. How much time do I have?” Allen asked as he knelt down and began adjusting the focus.

“Five minutes to showtime.” they replied. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Absolutely.” Allen said shortly. “Wind speed?”

“About twenty miles per hour. Remember, you didn’t have to do this. I could’ve found someone else to hit Goodman. You could’ve walked free without risking federal custody.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this job. Success is too important, so we can’t take any chances.” Allen replied. “After this though, you can count on my permanent retirement.”

“You sound so much older than you did three years ago.”

Now it was Allen’s turn to be silent. “I’m tired Admin. I’m tired of being involved in this mess. I’ve destroyed families, made enemies, and killed innocent people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. This job has torn me in half several times over, and I’m done. This is my last assignment. Then, I’m packing this rifle away for good, and pulling my final disappearing act.”

“I understand.” replied Admin. “One minute.”

Allen concentrated on the podium. It was two and a half miles away, so the bullet would arrive at the podium approximately two seconds after leaving the barrel. He’d have to compensate for any small movement Goodman made.

“Damn, this is gonna be tricky.” Allen said quietly.

“You sure you can do it?” the Administrator asked worriedly.

“Admin, have a little faith will you?”

“Sorry.”

“I said tricky, not impossible. If I’d said impossible, then I’d let you worry a little bit.”

“Overconfident much?” they sassed.

Allen chuckled. “Like I said before, it’s only overconfidence if I mi-”

CLICK

Allen’s eyes widened as he heard the noise, and he immediately leaned to his right just as a large kukri knife buried itself in the desk. He immediately stood and elbowed his attacker in the face, sending him back several feet.

“Hold still, ya mongrel!” the man shouted with a gruff Australian accent, charging again.

Allen did the complete opposite and kicked the man in the gut, buying himself just enough time to unsheathe his own knife and get a good look at his opponent.

He was wearing an outbacker’s hat, a vest and red shirt with sleeves rolled up, some very rugged-looking pants, and a pair of snakeskin boots. The grizzled face behind his glasses had a nasty scar on the left cheek. He held the kukri off to the side with his feet apart, ready to slice Allen wide open at the first opportunity.

Allen glared at the would-be assassin. “You sneaky little fuck.”

The man grinned. “Bloody nance.”

“So how exactly did you know where to find me?” Allen asked as he slowly got used to the smell of the outbacker.

“A friend o’ mine’s been listening in on your phone calls. He’s crafty that way.”

“You heard that right?” Allen called to the Administrator.

“I've already traced his bug. We’ll get him, you worry about Steve Irwin over there.”

“Piss off, wanka!” the Australian retorted angrily.

Allen took advantage of the momentary distraction to lunge at the enemy fixer, who spun right to avoid the stab. Then, with the speed of a snake, he brought the kukri around and tried to slit Allen’s throat. Allen, however, grabbed the arm and twisted it. The fixer howled and aimed a punch at Allen, who was forced to let go of the kukri arm to avoid it. Then they both backed up and began circling each other, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

“You ready to meet Sharpy?” the man asked with a wicked smile.

Allen was too busy thinking to say anything. This guy was faster than a bat out of hell. He was going to have a hell of a time surviving the next few minutes, but he also had another problem.

Goodman had already started giving his speech, and once he answered the press’ questions, he would walk off the stage. If Allen didn’t hurry up and take care of this guy, Goodman was going to walk free, and he’d probably never get a second chance to finish this.

Author's Note

DING! DING! DING!
It's the showdown of the century between my OC and the one and only REEEED SNIPEEER! Place your bets now folks!
Please leave a comment telling me your thoughts, and hit that like button if you enjoyed.
Thanks guys!