Running and Hiding
Wrong place at the wrong time.
That phrase explained your situation perfectly.
"Don't worry Ma'am. We won't let him get you."
The young blonde policeman across from you, pushed his glasses higher onto his nose. The odd cowlick on the top of his bounced lightly.
You nodded, your shaking hands clasped in your lap.
"I know you just told the man at the front desk what happened, but I'm going to need you to tell me."
You had indeed told the man at the front desk. His thin blonde eyebrows rising higher and higher with each word you uttered.
"O-okay." You voice was a little whisper.
"Take your time, If you ever feel the need to stop, that's okay." He pushed a cup of coffee towards you.
You nodded, inhaling shakily.
You had been walking home, a plastic bag clutched loosely in between your fingers. It was dark out, a dangerous time to be out alone no matter were you were.
The sound of your footsteps bounced of the high walls of the buildings around you.
Walking quickly, you shuddered as you passed another alleyway.
You really hated alleyways.
A gurgling rasp made you stop in your tracks. It was an un-natural sound that made the blood curdle and the heart clench.
"hello?" You voice was a little whimper, barely there.
The sound came again, weaker this time.
Oh geez, it was coming out of the alley directly ahead of you. Taking a shallow breath, you leaned forward and peeped around the corner.
A woman lay on the alleyway floor.
Was she drunk?
No. Something was wrong.
A black puddle was slowly spreading around her.
Blood looked black in the near dark, didn't it?
You stumbled back, your hand shot up and clamped around your mouth as the stench of blood hit you.
"See, love, this is why we don't walk out all alone." Warm breath tickled the back of your neck, "That kind of thing happens."
A rather pale hand pointed over your shoulder at the woman's body. The hand was covered with blood.
Your breath hitched in your throat.
The owner walked around you and smiled, the light from the streetlights casting a dark shadow over his face.
His pink hair and the spattering of freckles gave him the appearance of an innocent child, but your instincts told you that he was anything but.
"See love, now I have to get rid of you." His hand slowly moved towards your face.
The little part of humans that lay deep inside of them. The part that smelled danger and knew how to survive kicked into overdrive.
Your mind went into primordial survival mode. Hitting him across the face with the long forgotten bag, you dropped it and ran.
Even though you weren't the most athletic person in the world, you were fast. Much faster than the strange man.
Behind you came the cry, "I'll get you love, running is useless!"
And that's how you had ended up at the police station.
The young blonde policeman nodded, his face tight with worry.
"Don't worry Ms._____. We''ll keep you safe."
He stood up and then paused "Will you testify in court if we catch him?"
A man like that didn't deserve to walk free.
For the next few hours, the policeman made calls, talking into the phone with grim determination.
He final sat back down and sighed. "I've managed to arrange for FBI intervention. They're sending a bodyguard."
The cop leaned forward, "I'm not going to lie. This man is dangerous, he's been on our list for years. If he said he was going to kill you, he won't rest until that happens."
You felt the blood drain from your face.
He noticed and waved his hands, "Don't worry! We won't let him."
Someone behind you snorted.
You both looked towards the sound.
A tall man was leaning against the door frame in a rumpled black suit. He had purple and blue bruise like markings under his eyes. His chin length white-blonde hair was shaggy and went surprisingly well with the mess of stubble that ran across his jaw and cheeks.
"I'm ze FBI agent sent to escort Ms. ______." His violet eyes were as unemotional as his voice. His voice was hoarse like a smokers, but not unpleasantly.
He held out a badge that stated his name -Francis Bonnefoy-
The young cop stood up and shook his hand. They talked in low tones, glancing at you every now and then.
"Come on." Francis grabbed your upper arm and pulled you towards the door.
"What are we going to do?"
"I am going to drive you 'ome. You are going to get some stuff, zen I'm going to drive you somewhere safe."
You nodded and followed.
After directing Francis to your home, you ran inside and grabbed a bag, filling it with what you might need.
You ran back out and got back into the sleek black car. "Shouldn't you have gone in with me?"
Francis shrugged, starting the engine. "I zink ze premises is fine."
You stared at him, then looked down at your lap.
"Is he really that bad?"
Francis snorted, You looked up at him.
"Bad is an understatement. Some of ze stuff 'e does makes Jack ze Ripper look like a kitten loving wuss."
You paled slightly "R-really?"
Francis glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with the dash board lighter.
You sat in silence for a moment, wrinkling your nose at the smell of the cigarette.
"We go to ze arranged safe 'ouse." His violet eyes were fixed onto the road. You looked out your window and watched the lights of passing cars.
Seven hours later you had arrived.
The "Safe house" was a run down apartment building. You stared up at it doubtfully, wondering if you'd really be safe.
"Where will you be?" You looked over at him, brow furrowed. Francis stared down at you, his face emotionless as ever.
He handed you a bunch of papers, "Read zhem inside."
Grabbing your bags, he pushed you gently up the stairs.
The paper stated that you would be assuming a fake name and that your Agent (Francis) would pose as your husband.
"You're doing this willingly?" You looked up at him from your spot on the couch. The Frenchman looked up at you, pulling a cigarette from his lips.
"I'm doing it because it's my job."
You nodded, hunching your shoulders and looked back down at the papers. The rest was legal stuff for testifying in court.
"I'm going to bed." You tossed the papers onto the coffee table and walked into the small bed room. However before you crawled into the bed you paused and looked back out at Francis.
"Where are you going it sleep?"
His violet eyes stared at you with an dis-interest.
"Don't flatter yourself. I'll sleep on ze couch." You blushed and frowned, turning back into the room.
For weeks it was the same. Francis would leave, pretending to go to work, then sneek back into the apartment.
You had nothing to do. You could use your laptop. Francis stated that Oliver (You shuddered at the childish name of the killer.) had contacts that could find you through the internet.
The only time you ever got out was to go grocery shopping. Francis always accompanied you.
Sighing you walked towards the bathroom, a towel in your hands. Francis looked up as you passed. He was texting another Agent.
You raised an eyebrow.
---Francis's point of view----
I watched as the woman entered the bathroom. A few moments later the water switched on. I returned to the device in my hand.
______ might have thought that it was a regular cell phone. But it wasn't. It was a tracking device.
It read the signals from the tracking devices implanted in Oliver and his cronies upper arms. Devices like the one in my own upper arm.
A clicking sound came from near the front door. I glanced up, then back down at the device. Yup, there were three of them.
Sighing, I slid my phone into the inside pocket of my black jacket.
Hopefully, she wouldn't scream.
----Your point of view----
You had just finished rinsing the conditioner out of your hair when a sound made you freeze.
It was the sound of the bathroom door opening.
A hand wrapped around your mouth. You were pressed into a male chest. You struggled for a moment, then gave up and looked at your captor.
It was Francis. He was looking towards the door.
"MRF GAR YRG OING!!" You hissed through his hand, trying your best to cover up. His suit was being splattered by the overhead faucet.
"Be quiet." His breath tickled your ear. "Zere are zree men attempting to break in."
Your face was a furious red.
"I'm NAKED." You hissed.
Francis looked down at you, an eyebrow raised. "You're not zat impressive."
You opened your mouth to give him a scathing reply. He shushed you.
"We'll leave zrough ze window. Ze car is near zere."
"Get me some clothing first!"
He rolled his eyes and climbed out of the shower. A moment later he was back, a bra, panties and one of his button up shirts in his hands.
You snatched them away and dressed quickly.
He opened the window and shoved you out, following quickly.
You dropped the short distance to the ground and got into the sleek black vehicle. Francis slid into the front seat, gunning the engine before your seat belt was even on.
You glared at him as he drove at breakneck speeds away from the building.
He took no notice, grabbing a cigarette out of the glove box and placing it between his lips.
"Would you mind explaining?" You crossed your legs, even though the shirt reached to about mid thigh.
His glanced at you, his violet eyes once again emotionless.
"They were Oliver's cronies."
He didn't speak again. Just kept his eyes on the road, making random turns and doubling back every once in a while.
You lay curled up on the backseat, Francis was leaning back in the drivers seat, his black suit jacket laying across the passenger seat, drying.
"How did you know they were working for Oliver?" You flipped onto your back, staring at the ceiling.
He let out an annoyed sigh, shifting slightly so he was looking at you.
"Ze 'ave tracking devices in zeir arms."
You let out a small laugh. "In their arms? Couldn't they just dig them out?"
"No. It's not possible"
You rolled your eyes, snorting " Yeah right, I be---" You stopped as a flurry of movement came from the front.
Francis whipped his white button-up shirt off and leaned into the back, his left shoulder thrust out towards you.
A bright white scar, about the size of a quarter, stood out slightly.
You blushed, it sounded dirtier than it should.
Francis rolled his eyes, as if he knew what you were thinking.
You frowned, and reached out, gently brushing the tip of your finger against the scar. It turned an angry red, a loud zapping sound accompanied it. You jerked you finger back, wincing in pain.
"Did it just try to electrocute me?"
"Yes. Ze first time it gives you a little shock. Ze second is enough to make you piss your self. And ze zird is enough to make you pass out."
You raised an eyebrow, "And cutting it out?"
He pursed his lips, "It's ze 'eart of a little network. From zis." He pointed to the scar. "Is a bunch of fine wires zat read our vital signals. Zey go all over ze body. Try to cut it out and it explodes."
You narrowed your eyes, "And why do you have one?"
He leaned back, never taking his eyes off your face.
"I used to be part of Olivers gang. When we were caught, we were all given zem." He paused, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.
"I confessed to what we 'ad done."
"You thought you would get off easy?"
"Non." He took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling a silvery cloud.
"I was tired. Tired of everyzing. Ze killing, stealing, raping." He flinched slightly as he uttered the last word.
"We spent a year in zis secret, hidden prison. Zen Oliver an ze ozers managed to escape."
You frowned, pulling your knees up to your chest. "So how did you get out?"
He raised an eyebrow, as if saying, 'I really have to explain this to you'.
"Zese guy from ze Government offered me a job." He took another drag of the cigarette.
"To track and kill Oliver, and protect zose who are 'is targets."
This made sense....Kinda....
You stared at him, not really paying attention, thinking. He blushed slightly and sat back in the driver's seat.
"So now what?"
"We find somewhere safe." He leaned back and closed his eyes.
You thought a bit more. If Francis had a chip just like the others, And Oliver supposedly had a friend that was good with electronical devices, then.....
"They could be tracking you."
The Frenchman's head shut up and he twisted around to stare at you.
"If the chips give off a tracking signal, then the guy Oliver knows, might be able to track you."
His face pale and his normally emotionless eyes held a hint of panic.
"MERDE!" He grabbed his white button-up shirt and pulled it on. Buttoning it up sloppily, he twisted the keys in the ignition and stepped on the gas.
You climbed into the front seat, wrapping his black suit jacket around your shoulders.
"What are you going to do?"
"Not let zem get you. I know a man who might be able to take ze chip out."
You gave him a 'Are you serious look'
"And you didn't do this before because?"
"It could kill me." He looked at you briefly out of the corner of his eye. You blushed, feeling slightly flustered.
"Your willing to risk your life or me?"
"Don't make me repeat it." His tone was gruff, but the expression on his face was the complete opposite.