Post by Anson Williams on Jul 24, 2006 10:42:06 GMT -5
Some scars, never fade and remind you of the mistakes you made. When you ran, even after your mother said slow down, you were then prone to falling against the pavement and scratching your knee. There was your mother's warning in the back of your head, rubbing it in.
Holding Zilya hostage, was another mistake that Anson Williams had made. He had told the MI, (some of those who knew she was at the hospital) that she was being transfered to a better hospital and it was being done covertly for her safety. In truth, he had hidden her in an apartment building downtown and had some of his men guarding her around the clock.
They had been holed up together a long time ago. Both having shared in a mission that ended rather tragically.
Six Years Ago (Before Zilya was Head of Operations and when Anson Williams worked for the MI agency in New York. Two teams of six from the east and west coasts were sent to Prague on special assignment.)
"I'm getting married." Kellie Jenkins said quietly, a smirk on her lips. Zilya Areson forced a smile. She hated it when people started to talk about their personal lives on missions. There was at least 12 agents who were occupying a small house in Prague. They were there on special assignment as word had gotten out that there had been some Collective activity in the Czech Republic. The job was simple enough, as the Collective was still very weak from its defeat ten years prior but the majority of the agents had been here for months now, with not much success. At least seven of the agents were at the safe house now, drinking beer and laughing.
"Married huh?" Zilya let go of an awkward laugh. "Great." The answer didn't seem to reassuring to Kellie that it was a great thing. Suddenly she felt a slap on the back and she looked up annoyed towards Anson Williams. Kellie looked a bit put off by Zilya's response.
"Oh, don't ask Zilya for advice. She's probably all cranky because of the fact she rarely gets laid."
"Oh, fuck off Anson." Zilya replied, shaking her head as she walked out of the room and headed towards the door. Some of the agents guarding the door and watching the surveillance feeds laughed as Zilya slammed the door behind her and had a cigarette on the front porch. She could barely stand Anson and her patience towards him was wearing thin. The quicker they finished this mission, the better.
Anson lit a cigarette as he looked into the small bedroom where they were holding Zilya. It dangled from his mouth after he took the few first puffs. She would do nothing but stare at him for hours, as if she were trying to figure something in her head. Anson knew what she was looking for.
The guards who stood next to the bedroom door moved aside for Anson. He slid his large glasses off his eyes and stared down at her as she sat up against the wall. Zilya was on the bed, her legs dangling off the side as she used to wall as support. Her injuries were getting better because it wasn't as if Anson wasn't taking care of her.
"Why do you keep staring at me?" Anson growled, puffing away at his cigarette. He held down the unlit end towards Zilya, who was taking this occasion to quit smoking. She waved her hand to his offer with a bit of disgust. She hadn't realized that it was Anson who was holding her hostage until of course the confrontation with the telephone at the hospital. Memories of the past flooded into her brain the past few days, as she hadn't much to do other than sit and reminisce. Thinking about Andrew was driving her crazy as Anson had told her that all but a few in the MI knew she was still alive. Everyone else was told that she was dead.
"Prague." Zilya said after a few moments of awkward silence.
Anson scoffed and turned his head, stepping back towards the door. "...Prague, Anson. Do you remember Prague?"
"...Of course I do."
"So. You guarantee their safety?" Anson spoke, bringing a stiff drink to his lips and taking back a few gulps nervously.
"Of course." Hana said softly, her lips curling into a demure and trusting smile. "You want to go home, as do the other agents. We'll leave the country, leaving substantial proof that we have, and your agency will leave and be none the wiser. You get half of our profits from our sale of the weapons. Everyone wins."
Anson finished his drink as Hana rested her hand on his shoulder.
"You owe me."
Seemed Anson held more secrets that the one of this betrayal.
"Did you tip them off?" Zilya said firmly, gathering enough strength to get to her feet. "Did you tell them where we were?"
"Tell who?!" Anson bit back, the sweat starting to show on his brow. Zilya watched him react to her questions.
"...all of those agents died."
"You fucks didn't listen!" Anson screamed. "If you had just left the country, when I said to, they wouldn't be dead! They'd be alive and I wouldn't be in this position!" He grabbed Zilya by the shirt and shoved her onto the bed again. Zilya let her leg go up and she kicked Anson in the shin. He stepped back and folded over slightly, the cigarette falling to the floor and burning a small hole where it had fell.
Control is lost in the matter of moments. The blink of an eye. A turn of the head. Screams coming from the radio. From the pitch of fear, you knew they were dying. They didn't listen. The MI had concluded that it was probably a false lead, and that the Collective was still in the country. They didn't leave when Anson had told them too and Hana betrayed their deal. She had Anson followed, and the location of the safe house had been revealed. Just by coincidence, Zilya and Anson had been en-route to the house after returning from a reconnaissance mission. The radio squelched with the sounds of someone's foot crushing the receiver and the screams that were coming from it stopped. When they arrived, it was too late. Zilya and Anson, both armed entered the house, one covering the other's back as they found their comrades strewn across the house and riddled with bullets. Zilya kneeled quickly next to Kellie, who's hand reached up for Zilya's and held tightly to it.
"...they...please...just tell him I love him. Please." She's dying, but all she can do is think about was her fiancée, Zilya wondered with her eyes wide and her mind about to break down. Everyone else was dead or dying around her, and Zilya leaned in and gave her a genuine smile. There was nothing more she could do.
"I will."
Anson wandered weakly to the back door, dialing the MI's emergency number for back up. He lit a smoke as he made his way outside, his mind numb as to what had just happened. Eventually, the MI concluded that they had just simply been 'found out' and that there had been no leak.
Anson scoffed a laugh as Zilya fell to the bed with a grunt.
"You're just as dirty as I am now." He leaned over to pick up his cigarette. He kneeled down so that he was eye level with her laying down on the bed. "He's after what's in here." He pointed against Zilya's head. "Not what you can give him..." He smacked her ass as he stood up and Zilya lashed out with her arm. "...there." He laughed and continued. "...You hold a lot of secrets that are worth a lot of money. If I wasn't such a nice guy, I'd hand you over to the highest bidder. Unfortunately, I'm pretty much bound."
He left her alone in the room again, putting out his smoke in an empty ash tray.
So many secrets. So many scars.