by The Eurostar and GoozX
From a rooftop, Agent Turner watched Edulcore Cicciotto leaving the alley where he had stayed for the last two hours. The right hand of the American agent fell on a small recorder in his pocket, and brought it to his mouth.
"Agent Turner reporting, a quarter past noon, Mandelovian time. The subject is still under the effect of heroin, and our previous observation shows that his power is at its lowest peak in this condition. It's the best time to capture him. Second attempt begins."
"I think not," said a warm voice from behind Turner.
The American turned to see a well-known, leather-clad female smiling at him. "Lorena, I don't want to fight. It's matter of security for the world. I have to take Cicciotto."
"How is Marisa?"
"You bitch," whispered Turner, and jumped at the Lioness.
There was nobody on the roof to see the fight except for the ever-present seagulls soaring over the city in the deep blue sky. But had someone been there, that person would have been amazed at the hand-to-hand combat skills of the pair.
"Patrick sends his regards," said Turner, sending a punch over the South American agent's face.
"You shouldn't have nominated him, Ritchie," she responded, jumping back on foot and kicking Turner between his legs.
"Steel suspenders, don't you know? Daniel is really a beautiful kid, Lorena. You should see him, one of these days."
"You fucking piece of sh--" The words disappeared from the mouth of the woman when Agent Turner, after having leaped into the air, upside down, kicked her in the back.
"Next time, Lorena."
Turner ran back to the edge of the roof, took out his binoculars, and scanned the street to see if Cicciotto was still there. He was, still walking very slowly, one hand keeping himself steady against the wall of one of the palaces lining the street.
Turner took what seemed to be a gun and fired to the roof of the palace on the other side of the street. A hook, tied to an iron rope, flew to the chimney and hung to it. Turner jumped down, hanging onto the rope. It all took place within one second.
With one hand, he took Cicciotto by his wrist, and soon they were over the next roof. A puff of gas from a bottle, and Edulcore Cicciotto, the Eurostar, was put to sleep.
Turner took out his recorder. "Mission accomplished."
God, I love saying that. It gives me such a rush. The truck will pick up the subject and take him to the labs out in the desert near Nevada. What happens from there? I don't know, nor do I even care. I get my mission, I fill it and I get another. No questions. It's not my place to ask, nor do I want to. The world is just this big, messed-up little globe. I like sleeping at night. People who ask the questions, they don't sleep. Truth hurts.
A message appeared for him. "Dangerous subject loose on streets... multiple agents down... people turning into cows... others have had their heads blown off... red alert."
This is bad. I don't want to know how or why. I just want to stop this freak. Yeah, that's what I do -- stop these freaks!