Chapter 10

We rode all the way to Battery Park, on the tip of Manhattan.  We did not waste anytime.  We dismounted out wave runners and swam the rest of the way to shore.  From there, we sprinted to the nearest street and hailed the next taxi.

“Hey, can’t ya see I’m on break? You wanna go to the Empire State Building? Forget about it. No way. Beat it. I ain’t got time for this,” the driver uttered.

Scar pulled out his pistol and tactfully replied with, “Well, I know in London, that it is much easier to take the tube, but we decided on livening up your pathetic excuse for a life. So would you kindly drive us or would you rather the Port Authority find your slimy carcass floating down the East River.”

“Okay, okay.  Get in. But I expect a pretty penny this,” he said in shock.

“Haha, no.  Step on it,” Scar continued as he subtly grinned.

He meticulously maneuvered the cab through the Big Apple’s traffic, carefully weaving between cars and pedestrians.  A speeding taxi would not be anything foreign to the streets on New York, but a speeding taxi followed by a motorcade of black Ducatis is probably a first.  Each engine roaring in the background, they surrounded the car, with a few on each side and a couple in the back.  Each biker was equipped with a weapon of their own.

“Who the heck are you?! And why are they chasing us?!” the driver screamed.

“Just drive! Open the sunroof!” I yelled.  I raised my body out of the port in the cab and drew my pistol.  8 shots left.  7 bikers on my tail.  I had to make every shot count.

I deliberately aimed, shooting each rider down like clockwork.  One after the other. Two shots left with one rider on my tail.  

Bang.  Miss.  Bang.  Miss.

Chapter 9

I infiltrated the bulky doors by simply kicking them in.  Because of my not-so-discrete entrance, I was faced with a barrage of bullets, each one barely missing me.  I dove behind a plush sofa.  The figures henchmen did the same, each one used the adjacent sofa as a barricade.  They were blocking the stairwell to ascend to the next level.  I had virtually no escape.  

I did something that I would later describe as utterly stupid.  I leaped over the leather couch, barely nicking the wood frameworks of the piece of furniture.  Using the glass coffee table as a stepping stone, I jumped up and stabbed each one, making each kill as clean as possible.  No need to let the others know that I survived.  

Picking up their weapons and ammunition, I proceeded to use more covert methods, trying to keep as quiet as possible.  Luckily the pistol I scavenged had a silencer; that would make thinks a lot easier- and much quieter.

I scaled each level, taking out everyone in my path, the majority of them unable to unholster there weapons as I swiftly pulled the trigger.  Over time, I began to develop some sort of “rhythm”; shoot, take cover, repeat.  This worked until I reached the the captain’s quarters, where they were expecting me.  

Two guards-each one holding an assault rifle, sights fixated on my skull.

I raised my hands in submission, knowing there was no possible way to make any rash attempts to escape, at least with my life.  Bowing my head, I knelt down as my final act of surrender.

As the guards rushed over, restraints in hand, prepared to apprehend me, I heard two  distinct shots of gunfire.  I tentatively raised my head, only to find a man with a scar crossing over his left eye, holding a forty-five.

“What was that for?  I don’t even know you,” I questioned as I stood up.

“Well allow me to introduce myself. They call me Scar.  I am going to be straightforward with you.  Remember your “helicopter incident?”  Well, lets just say say that I had something to do with that.  But I had a recent change of hear  I'm on your side now.  We share a common enemy,” he explained.

“Wait.  You tried to kill me?  So you worked for Haddix?  How can I trust you?” I suspiciously asked.

“The bloke never paid.  Now come on.  We’ve got a timetable to keep.”  he continued.  And with that, he kicked in the door to reveal a small hallway with a steel door at its end.  I knew that if Colfer was not here, he was dead.

I gingerly pulled the door handle to find Colfer laying on a silver operating table, blood oozing from the gashes on his forehead and his legs.  His groans clearly defined that he was in pain, and his condition could not get any worse.  

He looked at me intently and began to speak softly.  

“Listen.  I never got to finish what I was saying on the chopper.  I haven’t got much time left so now seemed like a good time to finish.  Your last mission was to kill Haddix, but he incapacitated you before you had the chance causing you to lose your memory.  Haddix has been intriguing to blow up the Empire State Building.  You are just getting in his way.  Stop him before he has the chance to kill anyone.”

His voice trailed off.  His head fell to the left and his breathing became sparse.  I knew this was going to be the last time that I ever got to talk to him so I asked him,”Wait.  Who am I?”

“Michael Wolfe,” he croaked as  he took his last breath.  His lifeless, pale corpse laying still as we looked away.

I turned around and began walking Scar closely behind.  In anger, I walked towards the exit, taking my anger out on the nearest object, a distressed guard cowering in fear behind an ottoman.  A right hook to his jaw, stopped his quivering as he scurried off.

I jumped on the jet ski, started the engine, and took off, preceding Scar on his jet ski.  We hovered over the murky water, making way back towards the city.  We couldn’t have floated that far.  While riding, I noticed that we did not encounter Haddix after he had appeared to me.  There was only one place he could have gone.  The Empire State Building.