Gregor_Light: forum

A strange man had walked up to the car and taken the patient out of the car. Everybody acted as if this was normal, so suspected it was. But who or what was this man?

This vehicle is burnt!

Gregor had looked at the the outstretch hand from Kimmy and then heard the barked command from Iscis. It seemed like an apt microcosm of their family dynamic. The sisters bother wanted to same thing and each of them would die for the other, but the moment they were together they acted like to people that hated each other.

Even Lina had joined the group and seemed to observe Kimmy. He tried to catch the nurses eye, he wanted to confirm that she could get the bullet out. But all he saw in her eyes was distrust. It was not that strange. She hadn't seen his face turn in real-time. He hoped to get her trust soon, he was worried about infection.

He had been silent when the sisters argued. It wasn't his fight and adding to it could only hurt.

Gregors feet pushed as much weight from the ground as he could, but became dizzy the moment he tried to stand up. The fragile frames of the two sisters beside him were the only thing keeping him up at the moment. Another microcosm of his real situation.

“This is good, you know.” He started weakly, walking into a conversational minefield.

“If people have seen you treat each other like this, a rift between you sounds believable.”

He coughed and added quickly: “For people who don't really know you of course.”

The silence here was deafening. His nervous system was wired to expect to worst at any moment. So silence was just a prelude to a jump scare. When it was loud you knew were the enemy was, now it could lurk behind every tree.

Every step was heavy. But being aided by the two sisters, it was doable. “By the way, I haven't said this yet. But I should. Thank you Iscis, for saving me.”

The place looked like nothing special. It was mostly an overgrown piece of nature with young trees and bushes and a large bolder in the middle. If you ended up here as a random hiker you wouldn't have clocked that there was a bunker here. But if you looked for it you could see that part of that mostly unassuming bolder wasn't quite real.

“You could have left me, or hurt me. But you didn't. I also understand you didn't do it for me. But still, debts should be payed and I thank you.”

There was a nob on the bolder that could be pressed. As they did a door opened and a small room, revealed itself. The room was lit up by a buzzing fluorescent light fixture and only contained a lift, the signs indicated that the only way it went was down.

A warm haze had enveloped Gregor. The frantic happenings of a crew escaping a death trap and a man being ripped from the claws of Hades. The heat of too many people in one place, the sounds of a car bumping and a woman on his lap. It was so surreal that the accountant lost grasp of himself. He floated above his body, no longer himself and therefore protected.

Don't move any more than you have to.

He had always seen it as a superpower, rather than a deeply unhealthy coping method called disassociation. If he had been a man that went to therapy, which he was not, a therapist could have field day way him.

Give me that.

He was in a world of numbers. Everything there added up and you could count on everything. The tactical chatter over earpieces fully went over his head. Sounds were muffled and disjointed around him and for but a moment, he didn't have a care in the world.

Sorry...I

He felt his arm being lifted and wrapped around a body, it was a comfortable, kind gesture. It brought him back in his body. Not the best place to be: painful, loud an warm. He hadn't eaten in a while. I didn't really know these people. But he was needed, the job of a woman needing to stay safe. He could do that.

There...much better

“Indeed, much better.” - Gods, her face was close now.

“I aim, to serve” - The coughing undercut his attempts at being suave.

He matched her serious tone again.

“Emiliano's sadism is deeply impractical. He seems to be willing to spend ungodly amounts of people and material just to see you suffer. There has to be a way to exploit that.”

Biased as he was, he had fully categorized Emiliano's saving of Kimmy as possessive rather than altruistic.

“Sadistic psychopaths enjoy building someone up, make them feel safe, to tear them back down again. It hurts more like that” - If you looked deep enough into Gregors eyes you could see the flashbacks he had of his father.

He was racking his brain trying to think like someone so vindictive

”Lina was contacted by him, maybe that could work the other way around. Using those channels to poison his well of information. Spread the rumor that Red is buy-able, or that I have access to the briefcase. Something that he would know, would hurt the two of you the most?”

Every bump in the road hurt his side, but it also gave him an excuse to hold on tighter to Kimmy. It All in all, not a bad trade off.

“What would...” He stopped himself. Gregor was nothing of not insensitive, but even he felt the weight of his question.

“You don't have to share it with me, you know me..what like twelve hours now? But think about it, what would hurt you so much that he couldn't resist showing up in person?”

Seeing Kimmy be caring about Red and him felt transgressive to Gregor in a way a psychiatrist would right a book about.

“Don't worry, ma'am. I haven't forgotten your command. Still alive and kicking.”

People like us do not deserve gentle treatment.

Thankfully for his psyche the last part of the trip was anything but.

As the SUV stood still after the onslaught, Gregor breathed out, undid his seatbelt, with his right arm he opened the door and looked at voilet eyes on top of him.

“Ladies first.” 

Chance of dying significantly reduced. Surrounded by unlikely allies he felt safe. The rithmic sound of the car was soothing, the heat from the packed car felt comfortable and the seating felt softer than he remembered.

If he could only get a bit of rest...

”Oof!” Getting Kimmy launched on his lap woke him up. “Maybe not the time or place, girlfriend” His voice was strained and weak. The dizziness made him more prone to humour.

Are you okay? - Don’t close your eyes, okay? Stay awake. Stay alive

“I think the bleeding stopped for now” He groaned: “Moving hurts like something else though.”

He nodded solemnly:

“Stay awake. Stay alive.”

“Hello there, Red was it? Thanks for the escape vehicle, sorry you got shot. It seems to be going around. I'm Gregor by the way.” The response was silent as the big man seemed to go in and out of consciousness. When he looked at the man he saw his possible future.

As Gregor slowly got a better grip on in consciousness he noticed the tense horror in the car.

“Lina! Red there is worse than me, but when you're no longer occupied, I got shot and the bullet is still in there. Could you remove it?”

Can you keep this safe?

The briefcase, the thing that Kimmy protected even when knocked unconscious. If trust could be measured in levels he realized he just level up a bunch. It felt good, it was the level he wanted to be.

“Ye-” Cough “Yes, with my life.”

He was also handed the terminal from Icisis, and he started looking at moving screen. It was good to have something to focus on.

Stay awake. Stay alive.

“Kimmy, what's going to happen now? You can't stay on the run from this maniac for ever.”

He was trying to understand the interface of a terminal he worked with.

“This is a war of attrition and his resources clearly dwarf ours. So if there is something you have in your sleeve..?”

Asymmetric warfare could be won by the weaker party especially if they had some sort of home-base advantage. But they have to be smart to use cheaper ways to deplete the others resources. These clean up crews weren't cheap to hire. Besides, failing multiple times to accomplish a thing makes you look weak, reduces morale of your troops and makes rivals see a opening.

“Any rivals that could do the job for us?”

He couldn't do anything than absorb the information being slung around in speech, focus on his breathing and maintaining his consciousness. Fight those heavy eyelids. 

What do we say to the the sandman? Stay awake, stay alive.

You are not stopping!

The words were sharp and full of meaning.

This is my first non-negotiable command to you.

All of the things that had occurred in a short amount of time. It hadn't felt to Gregor as a employee-boss relationship. But of course, in some ways it still was. As informal and haphazard as his current employment was, this was what he chose.

You stay by my side. - "And you are not allowed to leave it.

He could do that, he wanted to do that. There was nothing in the world he would rather do. If only his legs worked. If only leaning on this table didn't feel so comfortable. If only his head didn't feel so dizzy.

“Yes..” He coughed. “Just a moment, I'll..”

He didn't see that coming. It was the Green eyed sister that pulled him to his feet and brought him close to the car. The woman was surprisingly strong for her stature. People that were commonly seen as psychopaths tended to feel less of everything, including pain and fear. Gregor wondered how dangerous Iscis actually was.

But he couldn't wonder too long.

Icisis had released him, entered the car and shouted all manner of angry words Gregor couldn't fully follow. He saw that this Red guy was clearly hurt, which seem to lit a fire under the green eyed sister.

77% of drivers have some sort of accident within their lifetime. Only 25% of car accidents are caused by women. As the car backed into the enemies bumper, Gregor wondered about the odds of all of this. Quite slim he suspected.

“Maybe the lack of feeling was widely exaggerated” he mumbled to himself.

The amount of sounds and dust overwhelmed Gregor for a moment and he sank through his legs. Coughing, keeping part of his jacked over his mouth, he inched ever closer to the roaring SUV.

He lifted his gun and fired two bullets through the windshield toward the drivers seat. He didn't remember this gun having this much kickback.

Lifting the gun so high was straining in his current condition. So he lowered it and shot at the tires instead.

As fast as he could he tried to open the passenger seat door.

The backdoor was heavy and uncooperative, but after a few tries it gave and he jumped in.

“ugh, yes, I'm here. Present” He found the seat belt and locked himself in. Seat belts have reduced lethality in crashes by 60% for light truck and SUV occupants in the past. It would be nice to only worry about the flying bullets.

Gregor had stayed silent during the reunion of the sisters. There was nothing his words could add to.

As much derision as he could see within the sister it meant something different in the accountants calculation: an ally.

He counted his current allies: Kimmy, The shouty guy, Icis, Lina and Lina's companion.

As weak and hurt as Gregor was, the idea that he was no longer alone against the world bolstered him.

Why is he still breathing?

Ok, maybe ally was a strong word. But they at least had a common goal: Getting Kimmy out of here alive.

“He hurt you, are you that weak?” Gregor was familiar with that sentiment. His dad has asked similar questions on a daily basis. If you get hurt it's your fault. If you get swindled, you're a fool and you deserve it. He sort of believed it himself. Especially in his line of work, if you live be the sword, you die by the sword. Should have been a better fencer. But it had always irked him when his dad said it to his mom. Gregor felt that same annoyance now. Kimmy hadn't been weak at all.

He suddenly wondered how well these two sisters fit together. Sure, they had both shown that they would have burned to world to keep each other safe, but did they actually jell well in peace time? Pangs of pain subdued his curiosity for a moment and he put it away for a possible future were he would still be alive and not in mortal danger. A boy could dream.

Gregor observed Icis for a moment as she spoke through an earpiece with someone. Who? Red..Big guy..Shouty guy? Red sounded like a code name. Something that happened on her ear piece seemed to have shook her, but this woman was quite focused. The moment Icis started looking for the briefcase he walked of to were he last saw it, took it and handed it to her.

The window is compromised

“Seriously?” He had fully believed the window was their best chance. He didn't look forward to walking back into the hallway he just got shot in. But the sister seemed to have a tactical overview with communication and a terminal. So he needed to swallow his pride and follow the bossy sister.

He moved close to Kimmy. “Nothing from what I've..” Breathing, even with the cloth on was laborious. “...what I've seen of you, was weak.” He felt like he needed to say it.

They moved to the stairs, Gregor again trying to stay low to be as small a target as possible. As he kept his gun on hand. He was getting dizzy looking down.

“What does he look like? This red? How to do recognize enemy combatants? Any markings?” He spoke in short bursts, as casual as he could, to a woman to would probably shoot him rather than answer him. But he needed to distract himself from his leaking meat prison. It was truly a tragedy that the mind could not just function on it's own.

Shadow

Another code name? How many people are involved in this operation? Did all of these people get payed for their service? Did they offer dental? He had uncharacteristically skipped those questions before quitting his previous job. Too late now.

The sounds of ongoing battle became louder with every step. Shots hitting the hard surfaces, glass being shattered, people in pain, commands being shouted directly and over radio. It all started to blur and muffle together as the blood loss affected Gregors senses.

He pressed slightly on his wound to let the pain keep him awake and standing.

Finally they reached the ground floor again.

“Ugh, through the backdoor, you said?” As he stepped from the stairs he leaned behind a flipped over table for cover.

He needed to catch his breath for a moment.

“You move, I'll cover you.” his arms had a slight tremble as he lifted his gun.

“Just a moment Gregor” – he told himself. He almost believed it.

How bad is it?

Death had an increasing possibility of occurring.

There was no exit wound, meaning the bullet had used all it's kinetic force to rip and tear until it came to a natural stop. The blood had been flowing quite badly, but he was still standing, so no major arteries were hit. It really hurt, especially on the inhale. His main worry was blood loss and infection risk from the bullet.

But the woman had saved him from the first. She was truly back. The knowledge that her sister was alive and close clearly lit a fire under her. The intelligence and charisma that he first saw in her had come back with a vengeance.

He followed her instructions, lend his strength were asked, but allowed himself to be tended to.

“It's bad.” He didn't see a point in lying now. “But I will – I will survive.” He sounded more angry than he meant to.

He tended to respond to pain with anger, biting through the feeling. But he also felt annoyed by his predicament. He was supposed to be the stable savior here, not the damsel in distress. It was fair to say that the accountant had some old fashioned views about masculinity, but it was more than that: He had made her a promise he intended to keep.

“You will get no stubbornness from me, I fully agree with your assessment.

The bed linen improvised as bandages hurt when the pressed against the wound. Gregor started to think about how often these safe house beds had been washed. He pushed the thought away and pulled them as tight as possibly could. Stop the bleeding first. Worry about infection later.

It was mesmerizing to see Kimmy work, rip, tear, bind. Gregor tried to help were possible and within no time.

And I'm not leaving you behind.

Can you move?

“Yes, I can move, I can...” Breathing was still unpleasant. “It won't be fun, but with this I can climb. “ He motioned to the cloth around him.

“You are impressive, you know that?” He almost blurted it out. It was nothing like Gregor to say something without overthinking it roughly fifty times. But considering both of them could die here, he needed to let her know that his admiration was genuine.

“Suit! Kimmy! We got more neighbors who will be here in minutes! We need exit into the backyard.

The words from a man that sounded vaguely familiar. He liked that he had unlikely allies. He didn't like that their plan for cover was broadcast to all possible enemies. But he might as well communicate now to coordinate the rescue efforts.

“Suit here! We are leaving through the..” Ouch. “Through the window! We'll move to your van via the cover of the trees! Do not come up!”

Gregor had pulled more blankets from the beds and bound them to the radiator with the plan to use it as a rope to climb down with when he was interrupted by the bonking on the door.

"Kimmy! Kimmy, are you in there?!"

"Open the door! Red is bringing the SUV around back! We have to go now! Kimmy!"

He recognized the voice. “Is that your sister?”

Gregor, knowing how much Kimmy cared about her sister didn't need to wait for an answer. He could read it on Kimmy's expression. Hurt as he was, he removed the bed from the door as soon as he could.

“Aaah!”

As soon as the barrier was gone, the door flew open and target number two was right there, with the same weapon she had pointed at him not too long ago. He had so many questions:

Had she been kidnapped by the mob boss?

Was the shouting guy trustworthy?

Was the shouting guy affiliated with the mob boss?

Was going via the stairs a safer way then trough the windows?

But he knew that those needed to wait. The two sisters needed to reconnect. So he stayed there in the doorpost, keeping his gun trained on the hallway, ready to shoot any possible enemies.

Death was a distinct possibility. But Gregor was happy when he looked at her hand. Kimmy trusted him again. He took it. His gun in the other hand.

The gunshots sounded so close.

“Stay low to the ground” - He started moving, toward the bedroom. Slowly, deliberately as he tried to support Kimmy as they moved.

A sharp pain, left side of his torso. He didn't see were it came from. Possibly a stray shot as it ricocheted against the walls. He was still standing, but a he felt his side getting warmer from the blood. No time, he would check it later.

He grunted.

“Lina had us dead to rights. I know it's weird that she got our location with the kill contract, but what if your former jailer is messing with everybody involved?” Gregor thought aloud as they reacted the bedroom door and opened it slowly.

The sight was intense, it didn't look anything like the peaceful safe place they recently slept in. It was violated with footsteps and combat.

He closed the door behind them to have one extra barrier against the onslaught to their back. But right in front of them, one of the windows was wide open and had clearly been an entrance. It had exits, but was also vulnerable for infiltration.

“The bedroom is our best choice”- Gregor had agreed. But it still wasn't a great one by any measure.

“I'm not saying..” He cramped a bit, his left side was hurting quite a bit. “I'm not saying that we trust her, but she doesn't act like she's a willing pawn against us.”

He let her go for a moment to move one of the beds against the door. In pain, his strength was compromised.

“It sounds like a lot of people are here.” - He was breathing a bit more belabored than he cared for.

“I think we need to move behind one of the other beds for cover. While we- while we see if can string these blankets together. If the outside is clear, we might be able to...auw” - He lowered himself. For cover and recovery he told himself.

“We might be able to...” He coughed.

I think I need to put pressure on it, this doesn't feel right.

“..climb out.”

“Stay here?” Gregor looked around. The safe house bathroom was nothing special.

It was small, had no places for cover and only one exit.

One well placed grenade would...

“No, we have to find a better tactical position. We don't need to be in the thick of it, but there has to be a safer place with more options.” He looked at Kimmy, her fighting spirit was slowly returning to her it seemed. But she also sounded absolutely certain that it was Lina that was send to kill them by this illustrious Emiliano. But Lina in turn didn't act hostile at all. Either Lina was an extremely capable liar or this Emiliano was toying with them.

In the time span of barely a second, but what seemed like an eternity to the accountant, the puzzle pieces fell into place.

1. He was send in to do a job with too little information

2. He was send in with only a pistol, when military gear was in play

3. The cleanup crew had been lackluster, barely worth its name.

He was meant to fail. His entire job had been to be tiny part of a constant stream of danger to torture the sisters. Make them lose sight of one another, make them deeply paranoid and break their spirit. It was the only conclusion Gregor could gather. Emiliano didn't want the sisters dead, he wanted them scared and obedient.

That pissed him off. He was doing well! He could have absolutely have killed one of the sisters. But he hadn't. The mafia boss knew his bride well. Gregor was increasingly getting more happy with his decision to quit his former job. Some companies really don't respect their workers.

Honestly I can give you my phone and you can see the message I got

“Yes, yes let's see that, let get to the bottom of..” As he took his gun, slowly to not startle Lina.

But things went too fast.

They're in the house now! Move in!

There was no time to figure things out, as he saw Lina move to the stairs. Their conversation was already over. He didn't even fully register the woman that with her.

He looked back at the runaway bride he had been protecting for what seemed like days.

She had been too paranoid to drink water because of the horror she had been through. Gregor marveled at her strength. Cause here she still was, still standing, fighting to see her sister again.

“I disagree with the nurse. But you have a say as well of course. If I have any say, you will never be slave again”

He paused to weight the possible options.

“Do we go down, possible in the thick of fire, but closer to the exits? Do we go the bedroom, where there is probably active fighting, but windows we could leave out off and beds we could use as cover? Or do we stay here, recover as much as we can and keep the gun pointed at the door?”

Slavery ended in 1865, except it didn't. All over the world people still found ways to own others. Whether it was via legal imprisonment, via simple force or a combination called marriage, roughly 50 million people all around the world were enslaved.

Was he...was he hired to be a slave catcher?

No, he was explicitly expected to kill them. There was still something missing here.

A runaway mafia bride. Gregor was not an ethical man. Most of the time he found discussions about right and wrong to be silly navel gazing. The powerful did what they wanted. But there was something about slavery that felt so vile to him.

For the first time in a while the cold accountant was getting heated. He was getting angry. Doing crimes for money, who wouldn't? Doing crimes for power, it's the only way to get it. Doing crimes to get and maintain a wife? That's just pathetic. And, not unimportant, just deeply inefficient.

His jaw started clenching.

This entire night. His employment, the life of his colleague, all that property damage. The kidnapping of a family member. All because a man with more resources than god can not keep a woman?

His breathing became intense.

“Kimmy” - He tried out the name.

“You will see her again.” - His anger made him confident in a way he couldn't reason.

But the information that this place was compromised was slowly coming through.

“Shit, I thought we had more time.” - He thought for a bit.

“Lets grab the medical stuff and...” -

How had he missed it? The shuffling, the communication between the operatives. Too late, they were here.

"Whoever's up here, Hands." - He knew that voice, that intonation.

Gregor put his hands up

“Lina? Don't shoot, it's us! Good you found us!”

He slowly turned around trying to look back at the mercenary nurse.

“How did you find us?”

Shit, how did she find us, was she send as help or as attacker?

“This place is being tracked, we don't have a lot of time” Trying to find recognition in Lina's eyes

He moved his hips in such a way were his gun was visible to Kimmy. He knew that Lina had a shot on him if she wanted to. He was not remotely fast enough to pull his gun before she could shoot. But Kimmy could. If she tried Gregor would be in the thick of the fire, but she could.

Why wasn't angry at her?

He should be right?

He became a turncoat, killed one of his own, brought her to a a safe place all she could do was hit and blame him?

The pieces of glass broke the light and small rainbow formed against the opposite wall.

A weird feeling came over him. A feeling that he was meant to be here, doing exactly this.

He wasn't angry. He saw the state she was in. The fear over her entire body.

Had there been something on that device that made her panic even more?

He couldn't see and as far Gregor was concerned, this place was still a somewhat safe one.

Gregor took her arm, fighting through her resistance as he lifted her up and moved her to the bathroom.

“Breathe, breathe. Come one, you can do it. Here”

With one hand he cupped some water from the faucet, and drank it.

“See, the water is safe here. You need to drink. Something at least. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't use poison.” - That came out less comforting than it sounded in his head.

The mirror reflected two haggard looking people. He noticed the stubble on his chin, he hadn't had a moment to shave yet.

“I will know what to do, that is a promise.” - he scraped his throat.

“But you need to give me something to work with, you haven't told me anything yet.”

As he paused, he mentally went through the known unknowns.

“The reason for me being hired, the suitcase, the computers at the previous locations... Your name, anything. I run on data, feed me some.”

As the front door was being opened, it was too quiet for him to hear. The Accountant was working with incomplete numbers here. Fully believing they had time to catch a breath, he was unaware of the danger approaching him.

Obliviously, he cupped Violets face

“Dehydration, it messes with your mind. To survive this I need your mind, the clear competence you showed the moment we first met. I know for a fact we can make it. Do you trust me?”

The world was made out of numbers. Somehow his mother was there.

Her face was obscured, and the clock didn't seem to make sense. But the number world included his childhood room.

"Don't you want to make friends?" - His mother sounded worried

“But the numbers are my friends, mom, they like me. The others don't like my games. I just know the best way to play.” - Gregor looked at the number two for comfort, they looked understanding to him.

-“You're not supposed to hurt your friends.”

“Well, they shouldn't have hurt me by telling me I'm boring.”

-“Gregor!”

The numbers joined in: “Gregor!”

He woke up, stiff and painful. The chair had been killing on his back.

As well as he could he stood up and reoriented himself.

He went to the kitchen, downed some water. Grabbed another glass and filled it.

He went up to the bedroom where Violet was on the ground, still quite weak and visibly in distress.

Gregor paused for a moment. Panic in others had always looked weird to him. Stranger still, they were rarely comforted by statistics or facts. What did people want to hear in distress? He still hadn't figured it out.

He needed her intelligence.

Did she want to hear that this place had food in stock? That there was a terminal they could use if they were safe about it?

Distress always made planning difficult for others. So no, none of that.

He sat down beside her and put the glass of water close to her. He controled his breathing as well as he could in the hopes she would mirror it.

In through the nose, 3 second hold, out through the mouth. Repeat.

She barely responded to him. It annoyed Gregor at first. Didn't she see how much he was trying to help? How much he already given up?

When he looked sideways his cold heart sank. His passenger was barely conscious.

Shit

She looked pale and weak. She shivered uncontrollably and her lips looked so dry they were cracked.

What was the impetus? Was it the blood loss, hypothermia, exhaustion, dehydration? All four?

The adrenaline from the murder was barely reducing when it spiked again, realizing he might have killed target number one.

It felt like an age ago when he last thought of her as a target. How long had it been?

We need to switch cars, this one might be tracked.

“Yes, good point..but save your breath.” - He tried to sound as calm and confident as possible. But he was riled up, almost panicking,

If he only had a way to contact Lina now. She had medical expertise.

He had a burner phone, but without her number it was useless.

When people fall unconscious it can look differently from person to person, sometimes they flop like a rag doll. But often their body becomes rigid and moves itself into fetal position first. This happened now, still holding the suitcase like her life depended it.

Did it?

Her arms and knees came up to her body and then the tension released. Fully unconscious.

“Voilet, come on Voilet, stay with me!.” - But she was in a world of her own.

Gregor sped up his driving, trying to be difficult to follow.

Come on numbers, I need you.

With 36-38% of the global market a white car was the most common.

The accountant slowed down his breathing.

Roughly 40% of drivers do not have any alarms on them, mainly those driven by younger people. Sound alarms are also less common in older cars.

He unclenched his jaw.

Considering the estimated age, fitness and exhaustion level of Voilet, hypothermia becomes dangerous within roughly an hour of exposure –

He lowered his shoulders

Whereas it would take for 30-40% of blood volume loss to experience shock, which would be at least 1,5 to 2 liters. It couldn't have been that much.

He looked in his rear view mirror. He was in the clear.

Thirst was the least pressing, people could withstand quite a some time without fluids. Not.. pleasantly mind, but first aid was very clear: You do not give an unconscious person food or drink.

Gregor emerged from his mind palace knowing exactly what to do.

He parked his car in a place obscured by trees. If it was traced, he wanted them to waste time looking for it. As the car came to halt Violet jerked up and made that sound.

"ICSIS!"

Gregor didn't recognize it. People tended to call their parents or loved ones when they came back from fainting. Could it have been the name of the sister? It was speculation.

“Hey, you're safe, take your time coming back, ok?” – but she was gone again.

Gregor loathed leaving her alone, but he needed to if they were going to be safe.

So as fast as he could, he found a beat up older white car without too much trouble. He took the pen he got from his ex-colleague and fiddled with the door. Suprisingly it worked.

The internet had once claimed that some older cars could be started without a key.
Gregor hoped the internet had been correct.

Jackpot.

The first thing he checked was the heating. Double Jackpot.

He rushed out of the car again, grabbed the shivering woman, who by some sort of miracle still held the briefcase, and brought them to their new iron steed.

It was a short trip now. Not in the least because Gregor sped the whole way.

The safehouse was boring by design. A house meant to be forgotten. Was designed to be looked away from. To Gregor it looked like a palace. He scooped up the unconscious woman again and brought her inside. Laid her down on the couch. He patted her down with the complimentary towels, to make her as dry as possible and refreshed her bandages. Not the skill he saw Lina wield, but it would have to do. When he was satisfied he put her on one of the beds upstairs. He gave her all the blankets he could find.

When he came down again he put a chair opposite the door, took his gun and waited if they were going to have visitors. But he had ran on adrenaline for the evening and as it crashed so did he and gun in hand he fell asleep. 

The dead operative had traveled light. Gregor took the pistol, a burner phone and a pen from the man. He also took his jacket. The size was close enough.

As quickly as he could, he opened the door of to passenger seat of the car and sat down. As the door closed it was like the world stopped for a moment. He just noticed he had been holding his breath, but could release it now.

The rain tapping against the roof was almost comforting.

What had he done?

His normal way of analyzing a situation fell short. He hadn't been offered a bigger payday. In fact, the only reward that was mentioned was getting the truth of why these two women needed to die in the first place.

The briefcase, what was in there?

-“The safehouse is not far from here and should be unused for a while. There are medical supplies there and beds.”

Gregor started driving, slowly, trying to not make too much noise, gathering too much attention.

The was a slight tremor his hands. He wasn't feeling well.

Adrenaline, to be expected, it will subside.

He didn't recognize himself here. There was something different going on. He was doing something that Gregor had always classified as insanity: He was taking a leap of faith.

To what end though?

His throat was dry, his voice slightly less steady.

“I found a burner phone. We could use this exactly once, if we have use for it.”

He coughed and scraped his throat. - Something about killing a former co-worker didn't sit well with him.

He would be hunted himself now

Was that car in rear view mirror tailing them? No, it just turned away.

It wasn't paranoia if there was a statistically reasonable chance they were actually hunting him.

Elevated heart-rate, uncomfortable. This too shall pas.

He needed more control. An actual plan, more than loose ideas.

Something the sister had mentioned stuck in his mind. Scrubbing data. It sounded like there was some data science or hacking related stuff going on.

Gregor was a menace with Excel. Beyond that, his technical abilities were best described as adequate.

“So, do you have some sort of protocol?. Your sister and you? Ways to find one another? Do you need computer, a terminal of some sort?”

He noticed he was avoiding looking at Violet. Whether it was her eyes, her words or her current frailty, she had clearly compromised him. Besides, he need his eyes for the road.

Was that the same car again? No, different colour. The darkness obscures.

“Does the..boyfriend get some information? Something, so I can be.. of use?”

It came out more serious than he wanted, the tension was getting to him.

“I think I deserve that, right?”

That car behind looks very similar. 

Gregor looked at the gun being handed back to him. That was unexpected. In all the scenarios he calculated he didn't actually see this one. He could finish half his original job in but a moment. The other sister wouldn't even know. The mercenary was preoccupied. This was his chance, and he let it pass him by.

“She's going to be ok, you know. I've run the numbers. Your sister, she's the most scary out of all of us.”

Was that a joke? Was he trying to comfort her?

“Your hands are like ice” - He took the gun and put it away for a moment. He took her unoccupied hand again and moved it up to his face and blew warm air on them. “Blood loss, rain, there is a distinct risk of hypothermia. You've got to stay warm.”

Gregor ignored the briefcase with all his might. The briefcase was information. Information was power. Information was also the fastest way to demonstrate that he couldn't be trusted.

“There is a parking lot not far from here, very little oversight. I'll jack a car there, get us to a safe-house.”

He took off his suit jacket. It was somewhat wet from the rain but still, it would help warm her a little bit.

He quicky flashed a sign to Lina to leave now.

“We can contact the nurse from there and find your sister, if she doesn't find us first.”

He draped it over her and took his gun in his right and with his left he supported her in the direction of the car park, trying to escape the cleanup perimeter.

“Boyfriend” - It rang through his head. It was a joke right? A tease, a manipulation. He tried not to like it as much as he did.

It was dark, cold and silent but for the drip of the relentless rain. These streets were neglected and the potholes had pooled with water. The splashes became ever louder and more distorted. Some of the street lamps were so badly maintained, they blinked at uneven intervals.

Did he hear footsteps? Was his mind playing tricks on him?

Sadly, his mind had spoken truth.

“Violet, do not speak a word”-

He didn't recognize the operative. The suit was nicely tailored. Gun in one hand, umbrella in the other. The asshole was prepared.

He stood behind a parked car, still running.

The man spoke with a casual tone.

“Did you see the game last night?”

Gregor knew the drill.

“I have, it went into overtime.”

“What's the name of the star player again?”

“Callsign The Accountant.”

This seemed to satisfy the operative. He relaxed visibly.

“You gave us quite a fright. Took your time. So the target is not sleeping because?”

“She has important information, on the wereabouts of her sister and the content of this suitcase.”

“Good thinking. You've done well accountant. I'll take it from here. You will be well rewarded.”

Gregor froze. Those words. He could be done for today. Have exactly what he worked so hard to get: recognition. It would be so easy to take it.

The Accountant nodded at his former colleague.

Released the woman for a moment.

Put his gun away.

Loosened his tie.

It wasn't cool. Honestly, he could have done without the stumbling and wrestling but he got his tie around the neck of the operative and he strangled him with all his strength. Movies have made it look easy.  To hold a strong man, fighting for his life for longer than a minute was a lot. The gurgle. Gregor knew it was coming. He needed it, but he didn't like it.

He let the lifeless man go. With his heart beating in his throat, Gregor spoke. “His car, get in his car, quickly. Quietly. The cleanup is here.”

• Sorry peeps, reallife stuff made fall behind a bit, will try and catch up tonight and write my piece -

She had ignored his hand. It hurt him.

Which was strange when he thought about it. The numbers guy really didn't like touching the hands of others. He saw mixed statistics. But people didn't wash their hands nearly as much as they self reported. Shaking hands was all risk no reward.

So he should have been relieved. But he didn't like it.

The manipulating sweet talking businesswoman had a weakness: Her sister.

Any time Green moved, Violet was occupied and vice versa.

He was doing his very best to be nice to his former targets.

But the sister something so she forgot he existed.

That might come in handy if wanted to be forgotten momentarily.

“That's how you miss on purpose” - Oh, how he wanted the attention though.

Gregor, you're being distracted. Focus.

Analyze, plan, execute.

“Who is the suit?” - it sounded like a threat.

He suddenly felt fully out of place.

This was not a place where a suit makes you blend in as a professional. Here the suit was a sign of money out of place. An easy mark.

Gregor heared Lina being all soldier and dangerous.  

The accountant was almost thankful now, being surrounded by armed women, even if he had shot one of them.

The newcomer was outgunned, out-manned, surrounded and had no clear reason to fight.

Surely, after a couple of warning shots, the man would surely listen to reason.

“Sir, as you might have noticed my friends here are quite on edge and I would recommend you keep your distance. We were in fact just leaving this area, so you don't need to worry about any more gunshots from our side. I am, and if the other permit I speak for them, we are nobody. In fact. We were never really here.”

Gregor looked at his watch, it was almost time. They needed to get out. Yesterday.

“We don't have time this” - Gregor whispered to the woman he knew as Violet - “We need to get moving and find a car. Do I need to remind you of the cleanup crew?”

A new party? A new unexpected variable? This was all deeply uncommon.

Something told Gregor that the lack of information he had about the situation was not just because of OpSec, he was starting to suspect his former employers didn't know much to begin with.

Was Gregor the scout in this situation?

Had Gregor been send forward to gather information, with the expectation of failure, only to be upstaged by the next parties? - The man made of numbers rarely had strong emotions, but this idea was pissing him off.

He was here: improvise, adapt and overcome. Just think through next steps. Step one. Follow the instructions given, move trough hallway, see if there is a back-exit. Move to the north. Steal a car, get outside of the “blast radius”.

Bonus step: Find one of the stashes, get armed again.

Dealing with those problems was as nowhere near as difficult as the extra mission he was just given. Honestly it might have to be the hardest mission you could give to someone like Gregor.

“Call me whatever you like” - “make it cute.”

The where no statistics on cute. At least no statistics this man had ever remembered. Also..he didn't know the woman enough. I just...he just knew her eyes.

“Very well, moving” - He said so explicitly, so his sudden movement didn't trigger a shootout.

Step, step, step.

Dress shoes on a hard floor.

Was the hacker girl following? He couldn't tell, if she was she did so silently.

Breath in, breath out.

The hallway was dark. And he didn't know the layout of the building. Most of the windows where borded up, there where no visible back doors.

He had hoped to be silent. Too bad.

Gregor pulled a few or the planks. He took off one of his shoes. Dress shoes with steel tips.

The loud crash of a window meeting with steel.

Shoe back on his feet.

A quick hop, trough the window, avoiding the jagged glass still there.

He held out his hand: “Want a hand, Violet?”

“Audit your failure.” Gregor had to admit that hurt.

It helped that Lina, treated him like he could be John Wick with a pen.

If only. He loved those movies. Made him pick up his Judo training again.

His former employer had a policy of letting their operatives act more like spies than soldiers. They had to blend in, be nimble. They didn't lean on big bulky operational kits. Agents would carry what they could conceal in their normal attire, or could fit in a briefcase. Instead they would lean on caches, known by these agents. Ammo, weapons, armor even some medication was available, if he could get to one of them.

But it did mean that after the loss of his gun and pen he was, for the time being, fully unarmed.

“You almost sound disappointed in me, computer girl. Where you hoping they'd send a more effective assassin? They might still.”

Gregor couldn't read her yet, in the short while he's observer her, it had been behind a large gun, being mostly annoyed at everyone here, including her own sister. Now she was barking orders and “ghosting police calls”. She reminded him of the IT professionals he worked with.

Brilliant.

Deeply unpleasant.

He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“Ready to move, commander. Say the word, name the direction.”

Gregor was mostly unfazed by the idea of police. He was an unarmed businessman, with a demeanor that seemed nonthreatening to police. When push comes to shove he had remarkable lawyers on retainer.

The corporate cleanup was another matter. The amount of collateral damage excepted in a given mission could vary greatly on the importance of the mission.

“The cleanup party will start from the same coordinates I was given, 50 meters south-west from here, this will give some margin, albeit a small one.”

-He talks too much for a guy who just tried to put a bullet through my sisters head -

The sentence echoed through Gregor's brain. It contained such beautiful data.

For one: target B finally revealed herself.

Number 2: target A and B are sisters.

Number 3: target B is way less of a talker than her sister.

Number 4: target B was armed, dangerous and pissed off.

So, Gregor needed to appease the greater threat here and remained silent.

He observed and kept quiet while he weighed his options. He saw how the hardy mercenary turned into a nurse with some decent bedside manner. He saw the chance of him outbidding the competition for her loyalty diminish with it.

There was this weird idiosyncrasy in people where sometimes if you offered them money for services that violated some sort of decency, some moral programming they get extremely offended. Gregor never fully got the hang of this, with some painful slaps in his face in his past to remind him.

Somewhere within the nurse-like behavior of the woman he seemed to detect hints of empathy, caring, having a clear moral compass. It would at least drive up her price massively.

The nurse. Lina

There had been a moment where Gregor could have made a shot. The nurse had placed her gun down. He might have had a chance to shoot one of them. But the gun trained on him by target B was too much of a risk. He went through the different scenarios. But not matter what order of shooting he calculated, the expected value was terrible.

And then her eyes came into the calculation.

Violet eyes

Violet eyes are extremely rare. They affect less than 1% of the population. There is no actual purple pigment in people's eyes. It's an optical illusion created by the blood vessels behind the eyes. Gregor believed it suited her, her window to the soul being an illusion.

It was hypnotic to say the least. Besides, she used the right words. She called him interesting. For most of the accountant's life, he was considered many things. But most of all: boring. His interest in numbers, his straight-laced attire. His unwillingness to use contact lenses. None of them screamed fun to be around.

But if people would just see him, his vast analytical mind and unwillingness to be like 'normal' people should be, they would understand. He was interesting.

Did she see? The real him behind the foggy glasses?

The overt flirting was nice. Crime rarely had an active HR department so job interviews could look like all manner of sordid affairs. He enjoyed the attention. Her attention in particular.

He needed to be careful with his words though. Flirting with one sister, while the other has a gun trained on you...Gregor had bad experiences with these things.

He lowered his gun, slowly and kicked it toward target B.

“Very well, I like your offer. And while I wouldn't consider tattoos a sound investment really, I will endeavor to get it restored. But for now I can offer you something else. A bit of a timeline.”

He looked at his watch.

“My employer. I mean, my former employer gave me one hour for this job. If the operative doesn't check in within this time period, they will send someone to check. Meaning we are on a timeline, if we remain here.”

He paused.

It needed to be real. They could no longer be target A and B.

“Now, you know my name, what should I call you?

“So far, theory indeed.”

Gregor had only a moment to think about what Target A was offering.

He wasn't naive. He understood that she was flattering him as a form of manipulation. She was focusing on a trait he valued most: his intelligence. His analytical ability.

But even knowing a placebo was a placebo didn't make it completely ineffective.

Something like fifty percent, depending on the treatment.

Useful enough.

Besides, there were a lot of unknown variables.

Had he been sent alone?

Had he even been sent first?

What could they possibly have done to make his employers willing to shell out this much money?

Insufficient data.

It was no longer his choice. The new party had him dead to rights.

Was this Target B?

No. She looked different from the picture he'd been given.

Another unforeseen variable.

Gregor found himself hungry for more information.

“Very well. Lowering my gun.”

Had he lowered his voice deliberately?

A lower register was commonly perceived as more dominant, more trustworthy, a quality associated with leadership.

That must have been the reason.

“I agree. A gunshot sets the tone, and flattery will get you everywhere.”

Gregor paused.

"You've got me right where you want me."

"I'm only a symptom of your problem, though. There will be more after me. You know this."

“So, if your offer to tell me what this is all about was genuine, I'm all ears.”

He studied the new woman.

Military bearing. Comfortable with the weapon. The way she spoke to Target A suggested they weren't familiar with one another.

Mercenary?

Soldier of fortune?

He did some mental calculations.

Regular fee. Hazard pay. Equipment allowance. Perhaps a discretionary fund for complications.

His employer could afford it.

There was a problem, though.

The way the new party had responded to Target A's wounds.

Empathy.

Not necessarily uncommon. But useful.

It could be exploited.

Gregor needed to become human in their eyes. Soon.

“My name is Gregor, by the way.”

He lowered the gun.

“I am the accountant.”