[34 Riley Drive | 1110 Central Time, Day 1]
Didn't take too long to get to Riley Drive. 15 minutes using public transport. A 10-minute bus ride and a five-minute walk.
Moments later, Mendez found himself looking at the only warehouse he can find on Riley Drive.
The warehouse wasn't the biggest he'd ever seen. As a matter of fact, it was comparatively small to its surroundings, being shorter than the two buildings next to it. Both of the buildings press against the warehouse, their walls merging against each other, leaving no space whatsoever to fit in between the three buildings. In other words, one can simply access the warehouse roof from the adjacent buildings.
The warehouse had a set of gigantic metal sliding doors up front, and a smaller door to its right. At the far right corner of the front side was a set of ladders leading to the roof.
Mendez assessed the situation.
Even though he got the assassins' employer where he wanted him to be, he can't just stroll into the warehouse expecting the employer to show up. What'll most likely happen is the employer/contractor trying to kill him first chance he got. Even worse, he'll bolt before Mendez got the chance to spot him, and he'll lose his only lead on his assassination attempts.
Nope. It would be better for Mendez to get the jump on this guy. Spot, tag, and bag him before he does the same.
With that in mind, Mendez went for the set of ladders leading to the warehouse roof. Surely a warehouse like this would've had skylights on the roof, which grants vision into the warehouse. From there, Mendez would be able to see into the warehouse and spot the employer as he enters without the latter spotting him.
Mendez was right. There were rows of skylights plastered on the warehouse roof. Not the biggest skylights, sure, but they were big enough that Mendez can see clearly into the warehouse with no problem.
Now we play the waiting game, thought Mendez.
A figure ascended another set of ladders, located at the other side of the warehouse, leading to the same roof Mendez was on.
As he got to the top, he spotted Mendez kneeling on one of the warehouse skylights, scanning the interior intently. It was apparent that Mendez hasn't seen him yet.
So he sneaked, staying on Mendez's blind spot and out of his peripheral vision, trying to be as silent as possible.
And as he did so, he drew a pistol from his zip-up hoodie.
Mendez heard a click near his right temple.
A familiar click at that.
He'd heard this click before.
It's a pistol's hammer getting pulled down, readying the gun for action. Or in this case, readying the gun to blow his brains off.
Mendez's mind raced.
No way some random dude is mugging him for money at this time and place. Otherwise, this guy would've said the staple 'your money or your life' line by now.
Mendez recalled the words he'd caught from the employer during the phone call.
"Becks, we're going to Riley Drive..."
Becks.
This 'Becks' person must've been the employer's associate. His enforcer, his right-hand-man, his unfortunate taxi driver, whatever. Or in this case, Mendez guessed, the guy shoving his gun at Mendez's head at the moment. The employer must've sent Becks to scout the warehouse perimeter for suspicious activities, and boy oh boy, did Becks find one.
"Becks, I presume?" asked Mendez without even turning his head.
One second.
"How'd you know that?"
An American accent. Not your typical one, however.
Mendez turned slowly as to not set Beck's trigger finger off.
And there he saw Becks along with his full features.
Becks was an African-American man, looking slightly taller than Mendez himself, his height probably reaching a bit over 180 centimeters. Slimmer than Mendez in build, he sported a purple zip-up hoodie, dark blue skinny jeans, and basketball shoes. His hoodie cap was down, revealing a purple bandanna tied around his apparently bald, caramel-skinned head. Mendez'd found Beck's face to be surprisingly clean except for a small goatee on his chin, although not as clean as those young sophisticated African-American businessmen that frequent the cafe.
As Mendez was scanning Becks' features, the latter asked him again.
"I said, how'd you know that?"
"Oh, I know enough," answered Mendez, trying to knock Becks off balance. "Now, onto more pressing things."
Becks didn't say anything, but his aim and face was as tense as ever.
"You're gonna use that thing?" asked Mendez.
"What thing?"
Mendez can sense it. Becks didn't expect Mendez to know him by name, and now was partially caught off-guard.
Now to do something Becks would never expect his target to do.
"This thing,"
said Mendez as he grabbed the gun barrel--
--and jammed it against his forehead,
"you're gonna use it?"
Becks' intense stare melted into an expression of shock. Clearly he didn't see that one coming. So shocked, he didn't say anything, just his eyes widening at Mendez's stunt.
"Come on, you know that they say," taunted Mendez, his smirk turning into a grin. An evilly satisfied grin. "Don't pull the thing out unless you're planning to use it. Now, are you gonna use this thing or what?"
From his grip on the gun barrel, Mendez can feel Becks' aim starting to shake. He can also glance Becks' trigger finger loosening from the trigger. His nervousness was getting the better of him. Clearly this wasn't what he signed up for, if he did sign up for this anyway.
"Right then, if you say so."
With one quick motion, Mendez parried the gun away from his forehead and kicked Becks square on his diaphragm.
Becks stumbled backwards, stunned, his hand letting the gun go.
Now the tables have turned. The gun is on Mendez's left hand now. Not exactly his preferred hand, but for now Mendez has no problem with that.
With his hand clutching the gun barrel, Mendez set for pistol-whipping Becks, swinging the gun hard towards the latter's head.
Whiff. The gun hit nothing.
But before Mendez'd registered that Becks had dodged his blow, he felt his legs getting swept off their footing--him getting knocked down--fell on his back--his gun thrown off--and not a second later, he was looking at the sky above him.
Mendez had barely gathered himself when he saw Becks again: leaping above him, somersaulting on the air, and attempting to land on Mendez on his feet!
Rolling to the side, Mendez heard Becks' basketball shoes going thud on the warehouse roof, where his chest was a second ago.
"Well, this is interesting," quipped Mendez as he got to his feet.
Stepping forward, Becks' reply was a straight sideways left kick towards Mendez's face.
This time though, Mendez saw it.
As Becks took his wind-up steps, Mendez stepped slightly to the right--effectively dodging Becks' kick--and as Becks' kick went off, Mendez wrapped his arms on Becks' leg--spun counter-clockwise hard, his hands still wrapping Becks' leg--momentarily swinging Becks off the ground like a hammer toss!
A half-circle later, Mendez let go, sending Becks flying towards walls of the building adjacent to the warehouse.
Only that Becks wasn't flying to a wall.
It was a window.
And the window didn't even crack, it exploded from Becks' body getting thrown through it.
Mendez strolled to the window, checking on the hunter that had become the prey, knowing he got Becks cornered.
Except that 'cornered' would imply that someone has nowhere to run.
On Becks' case however, he's got somewhere to run.
As Mendez bowed to peek into the room he'd just thrown Becks into, he caught the latter scrambling and scampering towards an open doorway opposite of the window looking to get away from him.
With a start, Mendez quickly entered the room, and by that time Becks was already outside of the room, turning right as he ran off.
The building, as it turned out, was an apartment building. This apartment flat that Becks had crashed into was conveniently empty, the room void of all kinds of furniture. Apparently it has been some time since someone had lived here, since the walls, the ceilings, and the floors of the room had been worn out.
Mendez landed on the room floors, stepping on glass shards as he did so, and sprung into a sprint, pursuing Becks.
This Becks, Mendez thought, will be useful. Even if Mendez can't get to the contractor/employer personally, Becks will serve as the second best thing. Not to mention he didn't seem as dedicated as Mendez's would-be assassins, so Mendez figured it would be easier to extract information from him.
Or better yet, turn Becks to his side.
Turning right ahead of the doorway, Mendez spotted Becks bursting through sets of doors in front of him: first the door of the room, then the door to the room opposite it.
Smiling, Mendez set off after him.
The chase is on.