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by Craig H. Rettig
Part of the Enmity crossover
Charlotte Gillian awoke to the sound of a gun being cocked. Instinctively, she jerked awake and sat up, reaching for her Eagle which she kept on the hotel's nightstand. It wasn't there. She spun around towards the sound...and a familiar face.
"Looking for this?" the large man in the doorway queried, holding Charlotte's gun aimed directly at her. This was the first time Charlotte had ever been at the business end of her own weapon. She had always wondered what it looked like from this point of view. "Big" was all she could come up with.
"Jacques Mourir...it's been a long while," Charlotte replied, putting on a fake smile for her ex-lover.
"Drop the act, girl," Jacques said with no emotion. "We're both professionals, and you know that sort of thing doesn't work on us."
"Coverin' up that French accent of yours, eh? Where's that romantic drawl what made a gel like me fall 'ead over 'eels over you five years back?" Charlotte had another gun under her pillow, but she knew Jacques wouldn't even give her the two seconds she needed to grab it and get into a shooting position.
"After TheProfessional came out, people were having a field day making comparisons. Idiots asking me where my plant was all the time. I almost felt bad about killing that one guy."
"Innit the case?" Charlotte grinned, moving her hand about an eighth of an inch every few seconds towards her pillow. "Gawd, if I could tell you about all the Monty Python gags..."
"Enough with the small talk, Char. Let's get this over with."
Charlotte wrapped her hand tightly around the .22, placing her index finger snugly over the trigger. "So, when did you start working for Stormkiller?"
"Working for Stormkiller?" Jacques looked confused. "What the hell is Stormkiller? Some yes-man hired me on behalf of his boss to track you down and remove you. A million in cash up front was enough to let me forget old times. Sorry, dear, but what we had wasn't worth a million."
"Oh, c'mon, luv, I'm not worth more than bleedin' money? What about that one night in Monte Carlo?" Charlotte shifted, letting one of the straps of her camisole fall over her shoulder and down to her elbow. Jacques raised his eyebrows and altered his gaze for a second. It was all Charlotte needed.
Charlotte walked out of the downtown apartment carrying her newly-acquired piece of equipment in a bag behind her. She was sick of being hunted down by Stormkiller, and it was time to take care of herself. Eventually, they were going to catch up to her. Yeates had come close enough. Either she was going to kill Raven and be forgiven, or she might still be killed by Stormkiller. It was always worth a shot. Raven wasn't going to kill her, though. No, Loner had caused her enough grief and humiliation as it was, and she'd end her own life before that genetic fallback would take her out. However, it was still hard to believe she'd gone as far as associating with and, disgustingly enough, even sleeping with an Omega to get what she needed, but this "Mr. Dvorak" did come through.
Sneaking into a back alley, Charlotte climbed up the fire escape to the apartment she had acquired by "cleaning up" the residents. She took the piece of equipment out and looked at it. It was hard to believe such a small object could solve all her problems. It seemed that Dvorak git had a problem with Loner also, and had acquired a Dynamax prototype that could negate Omega powers via an energy projector. Dvorak had used one of his Omegas who was a whiz with electronics convert the projector to a laser-thin beam, and then convert it so that it would attach to her Eagle.
Snapping the projector to her gun, she opened the window and looked for something to shoot at. Down in the alley, about two hundred feet away, she saw an Olde English 800 forty-ouncer bottle. Charlotte laughed at the irony of shooting at something English, and turned on the projector. A white dot appeared on the bottle. Charlotte fired, and the bottle exploded.
Charlotte grinned evilly. "Mr. Raven, this gel's got a new toy now. Let's play house."
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