Even the shortest hallways can feel like they stretch on for far too long under pressure. Every second counting, hoping for a bullet to not land in the back of your head.
"Hostile is a tall blonde Caucasian man with long hair! He's currently in pursuit of the client within the VIP area! Requesting all men to proceed downstairs now!!"
Leah heard one of them yell over the earpiece before firing his gun at her general direction while they were running off. The small lead projectiles whizzed past her ear as she returned the favor. Two bullets, one missed and one dead in the right eye before his body flopped over the concrete floor.
Just four more and she wouldn't have to think about it. Guns felt less personal than snapping a person's neck anyway.
It was obvious that she could close in the gap as easily in a couple of seconds. One of them threw himself at her when they were rounding a corner. By reflex, her left arm lunged forward to push him aside but her strength just pierced through his ribs and lungs. Leah shoved him off and shook her sleeve as if she was lazily swatting off excess water from a ladle.
Three more in her way. The poor lives she was taking, the poor people who were just doing their jobs. Do they have their own families? Leah didn't think about it. She just shot one of them in the chest just as she saw them and shot him again when she was running past him.
The last two fired whatever bullets left in the chamber of their guns. The stinging pain dotted around Leah's chest and stained her white shirt but the Hero of Hope's body was obviously far from normal in this world. She sprinted forward like a galloping horse, panting as she grabbed one of the guards by the arm.
She aimed for the head but the bullet missed. Just before the man could even imagine of fighting back, she pulled away her other arm and slammed the man's head against the wall. His final breath was still warm in her hands as he slid down with a cracked skull.
The stairs leading out were there. The final lamb pushed the target out front before turning to face her. His gun was aimed at her rapidly approaching face. Just one bullet in the head and he's dead, the man thought. The pistol discharges once.
Leah didn't drop dead. Instead, she caught the bullet in her mouth before firing two more into the last bodyguard. Still, he grabbed onto her leg, attempting to stop her to his last breath. The false hero pointed her gun at him again.
Click. Click. Click. A deadman's click. The magazine was empty, her soul was empty. The bleeding man gritted his teeth as he spat on her shoe. Leah made the mistake of looking down, even for a moment.
His eyes. His eyes are in defiance but she can tell there is fear. Suddenly, they stopped looking like living punching bags that bled. The adrenaline wears off for a moment, the cold sensation dripping down her left hand became more apparent. The dead bodies spread across the corridor, the blood splats lightened in blue.
Ah, that was just six people right? Six living people who were just doing their jobs. But they were working for a criminal-- wait, since when did she establish the man she was after was a criminal? She was just looking for some drug dealer at first, and now it escalated to…
A bullet penetrates her shoulder, the resounding bang into reality. Reinforcements had arrived sooner than she realized. Her instincts kicked in as Leah ran away from the ten men who had arrived to subdue her like a wounded dog.
She leaped up the stairs leading outside, the fading blue disappearing from her sight as she was greeted with a secure double door. When she went to push it open, she felt a weight on the other side. Something rolled as the door moved.
Leah looked down at what it was. It was the target with a bullet hole in his head.
Looks like there was an actual hitman after him.
A loud pang rang next to her ear, a bullet making a dent into the thick metal door. Leah quickly slammed the door shut before twisting the handles in a circle, intersecting and locking on each other. As much as the guards kicked or slammed at the door, they won't be able to get through now.
And she ran off. Away from the thumping music of the night club that had muffled most of the gunshots and violence. The dark hallways stretched on and on with each pitter-patter of her shoes, like the night over the empty grassy plains. It made her sprint faster, as if they were still chasing behind her.
She kept running, barely able to turn corners when needed. Leah lost herself. She was angry. Why did she think this was a good idea? Of course it wasn't. But she went through with it in desperation. Just like everything in her life. It's all in desperation.
Desperation from wanting to see her family again, even though they may not even be alive. She was never good with taking the lead in anything. She was never brave, she was never right in her judgement, she was never a good person in the first place.
Why?
Just why?
That was all she thought of in her blurry escapade from the night club. The same door she entered revealed itself and she spared no thought to be kind to it as well.
Bang! And the door broke open from its hinges, hanging by the side of the frame. The streets were still as empty as ever or she would notice some of the people who were looking at her if she had raised her head.
Into the night the man with the bloody holes in his torso went. Regrets from the soul of a woman who was trapped in a nightmare she had pulled herself into.
Everyone had the right to live. Not everyone could live the right they had.
Leah didn't know how far off she ran. When your body could endure several days without food and fatigue, how far would you gauge the limit? Perhaps the rate at which the heart burns out of its misery. Stuck to your flesh, stuck to your soul. Imprinted into your brain, forever remembering.
It's better to just be rubbish at this point. It's what she is.