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Beauty of the Blistering Sky	By : UltraVioletSoul Category: +S through Z > Splinter Cell Views: 1828 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tom Clancy's Splinter Cell or its characters. Neither do I own the song "Bullets" by Archive. No copyright infringement intended. I am just trying to provide entertainment, and by no means do I have lucrative purposes.

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Chapter III

Thankfully, you had been fortunate to luck into a service station a few miles away from the port. You had walked for a good hour, adamant on not thumbing a lift since you definitely did not want to take any more risks. It was good enough to have been nearly murdered and dumped into the depths of the sea, and you certainly did not want to encounter another psychopath on your way. You were sure you would not be lucky to have a good-looking man in a ‘superhero’ suit coming out of nowhere, to help the damsel in distress, again. Those kinds of things never happened twice— at least to you— and you did not want to push Providence’s generosity by doing something stupid yet again.

Granted you were exhausted when you reached the premises but, at least, you had the promising expectation— or illusion— of an ultimate haven after the violent madness you had gone through. Once the staff working in the gas station saw the beaten and frightened state you were in, as you called for help, they immediately called the local authorities to take care of the situation– despite your protests. The last thing you had wanted was to be involved in interrogations and bureaucratic procedures that night. You just wanted to use the phone and call in a cab to take you home, but you were explained that if they let you go in this state— and something happened to you— they would be in serious trouble.

Sighing in defeat, you could not do anything but comply as you took a seat at one of the tables in the lounge and waited, and waited, trying to make up a reasonable story in your mind. At least they had been kind enough so as to give you something to eat and drink— on the house, seeing as you had no money on you— until a Militsiya patrol parked outside. Two officers got off the car and, without much ceremony, briefly interrogated you, and the workers of the shop, before they requested for you to accompany them to the police station to give a full account of the events. [1]

When the authorities asked what had happened to you that night, you simply explained that you had been mugged and sacked of all your personal effects— which was not a lie since you had lost your purse, along with your wallet; your ID; and credit cards— after your ex had left you to fend for yourself practically in the middle of nowhere. It had been quite awkward trying to explain the reason why you broke up, so you tried to omit certain details just for the sake of your dignity. On the other hand, it was obvious they did not buy everything you said, but they could not force you into filling a formal complaint against your will, either.

On your part you just wanted to leave everything as it was, too worried by what you had seen and heard. You knew it was wrong to keep such a vital piece of information from the law, since your duty as a citizen was informing of any illegal activity taking place within the borders of the city, but you had been too scared to talk fearing that your words would come back to bite you afterwards. In the end, you were given a phone number— in case you wanted to have a future exchange with them— before you were allowed to leave. Well, they might as well forget about that because you were resolved to not reveal anything on the little cargo that would be shipped through the waters of the Black Sea.

Needless to say, you never mentioned a word on the man who had saved you– you owed him that as much. Or, perhaps, you were actually afraid that he might live up to his promise and come to end what those men had started back in the small and cold room you had been held captive. The dark promise in his eyes was something you did not know if you were prepared to face– the lone thought made you uncontrollably shudder and yet you longed to see it glint with a tourmaline shade.

Against your will— or maybe not— you found yourself frequently thinking about him. It was hard for you to forget a man like him, unique and dangerous; a man that had saved your life and still threatened to make you suffer. It was this mix of fear and curiosity that got the best of you; a combination of attraction and awe that kept you recalling the rough and gentle sensation of his strong hands on your waist; the proximity of your bodies and the heat of his steady breath on your nape when your back had pressed against his hard chest. Goosebumps had formed on your skin. Your hairs had stood on end and you had panted in anticipation when his voice caressed your ear, deep and raspy.

You did not know what was happening to you; you did not understand why all of a sudden your cheeks began to burn as the liquid coolness of those green pools soaked you in their blistering intensity and bravado; why those shivers took over you frail form when his large hand gently held your chin, the threat clear on his thin lips.

You shook your head, trying to chase those thoughts away. The mysterious stranger had said he would come to turn the tables on you if you as much hinted his existence. Well, you surely did not want to find out, you thought as you rolled on your side on the bed, wrapping yourself up in the warm covers as your cat mewled in protest when you accidentally kicked her rib. Mumbling an apology, you dipped your head under the blankets— as though you were a little child terrified of the darkness— and tried to get some sleep while the rain kept pouring down on the quiet streets of Odessa, in the dead of the night.

You dearly tried to slip into slumber, but those emerald eyes kept haunting your nights with their hazardous gleam. In your dreams he was this magnificent and stealthy predator, powerful and strong, smoothly moving in the shadows. You were his unsuspecting prey, squirming beneath him as he relentlessly attacked your vulnerable body trapped underneath his weight.

And it scared you, to feel this way for this unknown man.

You tried to close your eyes once more, but the constant pitter-patter on your window was too much for you to bear and you pulled the pillow over your head. Curling on your side, you deeply sighed before attempting a much needed rest, wishing you could have this ability some people had to lull themselves to sleep whenever they wanted.

Just as you were beginning to doze off, the strident ring of the bell screeched in your apartment. Almost jumping out of the mattress— the damned thing was truly loud— your head emerged from the heap of fabrics that covered you. Quirking a brow in curiosity, you wondered who in the world could possibly be out in this cold rain as you made your way to the phone and picked it up. To the other side of the intercom the sound of harsh breathing greeted you, accompanied by the heavy splash of water, taking you aback for a moment.

"Hello?" Your voice was wary and full of concern, almost bordering paranoia– and who could blame you for that? A few seconds ticked by and you were about to ring off, thinking that it was some kind of stupid prank, before the person on the other side of the line finally decided to speak.

"It’s me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and your throat went dry as you realized the seriousness of the situation that had come about. Tightly gripping the headset in your hand, this time it was you the one who found it hard to even utter a single word as this sudden tide of confusion and alarm hit you without any previous warning.

You recognized that voice and knew that its owner was outside, looking for you. And, then, your mind replayed the words that had slipped from his lips that night. He had said he would know if you told the authorities about him, but you never did such a thing! Why was he here? You began to panic and your mind could not think clearly at that point. Your hands were sweating. Your legs were trembling. Your heart galloped, and your breathing was heavy.

You began to shake your head in denial, as your jaw clenched in anxiety. Fear was taking over you as you felt this painful knot forming in your parched throat, and you did not know what to do anymore.

Please, don’t let it be true.

You knew why you were terrified out of your wits; why your stomach violently churned and why your body was frozen in place.

He was here. He had come for you.

And there was no escape.

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[1] Militsiya; the name by which the civilian police forces, in several former communist states, are known.
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Beauty of the Blistering Sky