Warning: Graphic violence and a dose of sexual inclination, but not explicit. PG-13.
Disclaimer: Here's a piece of old, old, stale news. The characters below to Marvel, and I'm not gaining a penny from this. But I don't mind. It's my passion! :)
Note: Yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a three-parter, but heck, no. It's too long to be a single chapter, so I tho't I'd do it to a four. :) Enjoy!
P/s: Special thanks to my personal editor, Caroline! Let's hear it for her!! *standing ovation* :D
All comments to southern_efx@hotmail.com

Free for a Second
by Vicki Lew
June 1997

Part Three

The bottle fell to the ground with a loud thud, spilling its contents on the wooden floor rapidly and filling the small motel room with the fragrant smell of bourbon whiskey. She just looked sadly at the mess on the floor, but made no move to clean it; just balanced herself precariously on the chair on two of its four legs while her feet were kicked up on the desk before her.

Rogue settled for the bottle of Absolut Vodka that was on the desk instead, her unsteady hand groping at air due to her alcohol-induced double-vision. After much squinting and pawing, she finally grabbed the bottle by the neck and took a hearty swig from it.

"Ah...neeeed oolivesss with thisss..." She hiccupped and chuckled at the odd sound. "Ya broken rule number 4.5, Sabby...'Sobriety keepsss ya alive.'...Ain't that g-gonna be a problem if ya doesn't wanna stay that way?"

The drunk woman laughed neurotically, jolting so much that the whole chair fell backwards with her in it. The crash hardly affected her as she lay on the floor, her hair and suit slightly wet from the whiskey puddle there. Her mood swing took a dramatic turn as her laughter dissolved into tears; soon she was heaving with sobs and pulling at her hair. After a while, Rogue crawled her way to her equipment case, and pulled out her favourite civillian automatic pistol.

"Hi, baby..." She held the weapon to her breast and ran a finger down its barrel. "Ah'm c-countin' on ya t'take me on a-a good ol' ride."

Her trigger-finger found its usual nook with familiar routine and the assasin had it held to her head in a flash. She ground her jaw and hummed quietly to herself, her head nodding, nodding...

"If ah'm gonna get killed, ah'm gonna do it myself, thank y'all kindly!" she hissed as she turned suddenly and fired at the hitman who had been stalking her by the window, ready to shoot her down. He hit the deck a split second before the bullets shattered the window and cursed. He was so sure that she would be too drunk to notice anything and that she would be a piece of cake to get rid of.

Guess he was wrong.

Michael Kirst crawled towards the door admidst all the shooting and did a dash to break it open; his body burst into the room as the door gave way, but he was still in action. He fired his gun at his target, but his aim came a little too late, she had already taken cover behind the table that she had kicked over as a barracade. Cursing under his breath, he knew that he was about to be a sitting duck unless he found some shelter quick.

Rogue gave a yell and fired away before he even had the chance to move and one of her bullets caught him in the right leg. She smiled in self-satisfaction, but it soon faded as the alcohol in her blood kicked in hard and sent her pitching once again onto the hard wooden floor.

She felt a little panic, something she hadn't known in a while, when she found it almost impossible to get up. She realized groggily that this man was a Watcher, assigned to keep her in check during each of her assignments. Every active assasin never ever saw who their Watcher was, until their day of termination. Of all people, it had to be Michael Kirst, the man who'd been a pain ever since the day they'd had to share training back at the academy. He'd be more than happy to cut her throat for all the embarassment she'd caused him.

Almost as soon as she hit the floor, Kirst scrambled towards the fallen woman, kicking the gun away, then connected his good leg to her stomach hard. Her brain registered the pain and she silenced the cry that caught in her throat, the old assasin's practice of suffering in silence kicking in.

"That's for nailing my leg, bitch." The other assasin growled as he grabbed her hair  violently and slapped her hard. "And that, is for outdoing me in the tests.

"Oh yeah, one more thing," He grabbed her and kissed her roughly. "It's for humiliating me in front of the other guys, hayseed."

Rogue spit into his face, but he was oddly calm even then. The man pinned her down on the ground, took out some rope and began to bind her wrists and feet tightly, so much that she thought she would lose all sensation in her limbs.

"And now, for jeopardizing the assignment, the organization would like to deliver you your retrenchment present," Michael took out a hunting knife and laid the blade to her cheek. "You aren't so hot after all, are you, Sabby? You made the biggest mistake of all, getting drunk. Or maybe you were waiting for someone to come kill you? Yeah, that might just be me, your angel of Death."

He chuckled softly to himself. "But first, a little fun," He drew the knife down her face to the neckline of her bodysuit and made a little slice there, exposing her upper chest. "You always had a sexy body, Sabine. You got no idea what you missed out on when you turned me down."

His hands roamed to her chest and made lecherous little caresses.

Rogue clenched her jaw and fumed silently, waiting for him to try and kiss her again...Sure enough, his head lowered and she went for it. Kirst fell to the floor when she butted his face with her head, his nose bleeding and broken from the impact.

"Ahhh!!! You slut!!!" He tried to swipe at her, but the adrenaline and rage boiling in her veins kept her a little faster than before; she dodged the blow. Yes, despite the drink in her system, she was doing very well at breaking rule 4.5, whereas Kirst had failed miserably in the silence department.

The knife gleamed in the soft light as she snatched it up and stuck it into the floor. Rogue sawed her bonds free shakily, and retrieved the knife, ready to defend herself. She whipped round in time to see the cloud of smoke that flocked around the barrel of the gun that Michael had fired. Gasping as the pain shocked her senses, she collapsed, stunned by the impact.

He guffawed in her face now, blood leaking from his nose and disfiguring his handsome face. Rogue saw now how much appearances could be deceiving; she was one of those pretenders. Her whole life was a lie...

"I gotcha now, girl. I'm gonna rape you and then throw your corpse down a cliff. How's that sound to you?" Michael grinned lopsidedly as he began to rip her suit open.

"No..." Flashes of the past hit her hard; she whimpered. Rogue reached up to claw at his face, but he cruelly dug his hand into the bullet wound in her right shoulder. She clenched her jaw, stubbornly keeping her silence.

She wasn't going to let this piece of shit do this to her. She was different. She hated the killing. Michael was different; bloodthirsty and trigger-happy, taking lives as if it were nothing more significant than the action of wiping the blood off his hands.

"Ah ain't gonna let ya do this t'me!!" she spat with renewed angst.

There was a new cry of pain as Rogue twisted her other concealed dagger into Kirst's ribs; he howled agian and tried to take it out, but in vain. Rogue forced herself to focus, and used her foot to lodge the weapon further into his body maliciously. He let out a choked gasp of agony.

Budging the man off her, Rogue locked her arm around his neck, ready to break it. But she wasn't going to stoop that low; instead she snarled into his ear, "Ah can't believe HQ sent a loser like ya t'babysit me...They must be gettin' senile in their old age, don'cha think, Mikey?"

Kirst attempted to attack her again, but she twisted the knife in his gut. His eyes turned white from the torture.

"Ya ain't good enough, Kirst. HQ should've turned you out from the beginnin', ain't never once that ya did well on your own, always takin' credit for things that don't even belong t'you. Ah'm never gonna kill again, not even you...Ah'm never goin' down that road again."

He stared at her, eyes burning with venom.

"You're not gonna get out that easy, Sabine. Ain't no way out but dying. If I killed you, I'd be doing you a favour."

"Shut up, Kirst!" Rogue blinked rapidly at her double-vision. The moment the adrenaline in her body settled down, the effects of alcohol drugged her again. It was a dangerous situation this time.

Kirst saw the wavering of her stance and the loosening of her arm around his neck; he barely kept his smug smile as he reached discreetly for the whiskey bottle that had fallen on the floor earlier.

"No, I think you'll shut up!!" With a savage cry, he smashed the bottle against her head. Her body slumped limp and he shoved her off roughly, and like a five-year-old boy, felt very pleased about himself.

Kirst staggered and picked up the hunting knife on the floor. This was going to be an easier kill than he thought after all. Bending over Rogue's prone body, he held the blade to her throat, drawing blood as it cut into her flesh slowly.

"I'm gonna enjoy this, sweet Sab--"

His sentence got cut off by a loud crash of glass; a dark figure swooped in through the window and swiftly turned a full circle before connecting one strong leg to Kirst's jaw.

I growled as I smashed de man's face in and kicked him behind the knee.

"Hit a woman, boy? Remy don' like dat one bit. 'Specially when I care f'her," I side-stepped as de bloody man lunged at me wit' his huntin' knife. "You ain't a man, an' I'll kill ya for hurtin' Rogue!"

I executed kick after kick to his chest, breakin' his ribs in de process, leavin' him half-dead. I would've killed him, if it weren't for Rogue. She was barely conscious, but I heard her callin' me weakly, tellin' me not t'fall to dis son-of-a-bitch's level.

She be right.

I dropped him and moved to Rogue instead, pickin' her up gently in my arms and took her away from his vile presence.

Continued in Chapter 4

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