Hurricane Heart

Hurricane

I peered out into the corridor, first left, then right.

He was down there, to the right, at the far end of the hallway.

‘Drop your weapons and come out slowly,’ he said, his tone threatening.

But I knew him. I recognised the voice—the strong, Russian accent and the low pitch.
It was Scarrus, a Soulless who I had come across on many occasions, usually with particularly interesting results, and one thing I knew about Scarrus was that, whilst he was a fantastic fighter, his aim was the one thing that let him down.

I whipped out my gun and pointed it directly in his face, even from this distance several doors down, before he even had a chance to react.

‘No,’ I said, stepping out behind my gun as though it was a shield of protection, shutting and locking the door to our room as I went. The gun that stood before me gave me confidence. ‘I think you should drop your weapon.’

Scarrus narrowed his eyes, looking frustrated. He was dressed eccentrically, like most Soulless; a black mask, slightly pointed at the edges, disguising his eyes. He also wore tight, black trousers, a black shirt and a long black jacket, almost as though he was trying to make himself look as stereotypically evil as he could. But I knew Scarrus. He never tried to be anyone else. He himself was eccentric enough.

It was always a mystery to me how the Soulless never got caught when they dressed how they did, or when they gave themselves strange, made-up names like ‘Scarrus,’ but perhaps the mere mention of what they were working for was protection enough against the government. Nevertheless, I knew they were almost as secretive about their business as the Dreamers, and that was why the cities were so much safer. They wouldn’t come here unless it was urgent.

‘It’s you—‘ Scarrus began, chuckling darkly, but I cut him off.

‘Never mind that,’ I said curtly. ‘I’m Hurricane now; at least for the time being.’

He cocked his head slightly to the side. ‘Hurricane? That’s new. Why Hurr—‘

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said, cutting him off once again. ‘But I have a few questions for you.’ I began to step closer.

‘You know I’ll shoot you,’ he threatened, his black eyes menacing behind the mask.

‘And you know I’ll shoot you first,’ I said, smiling slyly as I brushed my hair back. ‘So, what do you say to dropping your weapons?’

‘Never!’ he cried dramatically, loading his gun, ready to shoot.

I shot, deliberately missing him by inches, hitting the wall not twenty centimetres from the side of his head. The entire building shook with the colossal eruption, and a neat hole formed in the plaster, cracks mapping their way like cobwebs further up. Scarrus jumped, whirling round to face it.

‘That could have hit me!’ he yelled, suddenly scared.

‘I know,’ I said casually, but dangerous all the same. ‘That was a warning. Now, drop your weapon.’

Reluctantly, he bent, slowly, deliberately, never taking his eyes off of me and my gun, placing his own on the floor. I knew that his contained bullets, and that was what I was worried about, and I had to have it out of the way before we could continue.

To the left of the corridor, a door handle clicked, the only sound in the silence after the noise, and it opened to reveal a middle-aged woman looking out at me with wide eyes.

‘What—‘ she barely even whispered, almost too afraid to speak. There was no doubt that she’d heard the gun shot, and had just come out to confirm that her fears were wrong. Only, they weren’t wrong. They were absolutely and definitely right.

‘Get back inside!’ Scarrus roared, striding towards her, leaning in through her doorway. The poor woman’s eyes opened even wider, her face contorting into the ghostly mask of a silent scream. ‘Get in, or I’ll shoot!’

‘Move away,’ I said coolly, keeping the gun always on Scarrus. He looked round, saw what was now feet from his face, and reluctantly backed off.

I averted my gaze to the woman. ‘Get in,’ I said. ‘And don’t come back out again. It’s for your own safety.’

Quivering with fear, she shuffled backwards, not daring to even speak, slamming the door hard in her terror.

‘You’re too nice, Hurricane,’ Scarrus commented.

‘Nice?’ I scoffed, knowing it was the first time any of my enemies had used that word on me for a very long time. In fact, it was a while since even any of my friends would have said such things. ‘I’m just trying not to cause chaos.’

‘I’m afraid you’ve already failed at that one,’ he said. ‘Security will be up here soon enough, I’m sure.’

‘Then let’s make this quick,’ I replied, stepping closer, my gun moving closer to his face. ‘What do you want with Arjan?’

‘He’s in there?’ Scarrus asked.

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘I know, but I need to gather answers of my own,’ he said.

‘You want to fight me?’ I demanded.

He shrugged, looking indifferent. ‘I want to get inside your hotel room. If that means fighting you, then that’s what I’ll do.’

I moved closer still, close enough so that the barrel of the gun was mere inches from his face. He held his chin a little higher, the gun, shaking slightly in my tense hands, pointing towards his slender, pale neck.

‘What do you want him for?’ I demanded again.

‘He’s...important,’ said Scarrus slyly, looking down his nose towards me, taller than me by a good six inches, standing with his head held high.

‘Important for what?’ I was determined to get some answers.

I felt Scarrus’s vice-like hand grip my wrist suddenly, his nails digging in as he twisted it round my back, making me gasp in shock and avert my eyes from his.

It was all he needed.

He was not perfect; he meant to take the gun, but instead with a forceful shove he knocked it from my hand, sending it clattering to the floor close to his. He made to get to it, but I was also just as skilled. I grabbed him by the shoulder, wrenching him back, kicking him hard in the shin so that he doubled over. When he next looked up again, both of my hands were clamping him to the wall, holding him there so he could not move.

‘Is that how you want it?’ I hissed, moving closer still, digging my sharp nails into his bare flesh until he gasped out loud. ‘You want a fight?’

‘Like I say,’ he said, some of his arrogance gone now that he was unarmed and in pain. ‘I need to get in there.’

‘Well that’s just gonna have to mean a fight then, isn’t it,’ I snarled into his ear, lifting my knee quickly, making contact where it hurt. He cried out loud, doubling up. I turned to move away, secretly pleased with myself, but then he grabbed my long hair before I was completely out of reach, using it as a lever to pull me back as I yelled out. He grasped my flailing arm, wrenching it behind me, twisting it further and further until tears of agony welled up in my eyes.

‘You little bitch,’ he hissed in my ear.

‘Get the fuck off of me!’ I retorted, my voice wavering. I kicked behind me, knowing that the expensive lace-up boots I always wore were normally good for smashing shins.

Even though I wasn’t looking, and in agony, I made contact well, kicking with all the force I could muster in such a position. As he cried out; swear words and yelps of pain as one, his grip loosened just enough for me to twist and spin out of his grip, wrenching my arm free, kicking at him again as I began to run to where the guns lay strewn on the floor.

He ran at me. I felt his heavy weight bear down on me all of a sudden; a boulder falling onto my back, and I buckled under the force, falling face-first to the floor and rolling over. Scarrus was on top of me, his hand fisted, ready to punch right through my face, but with the arm that wasn’t trapped under his leg I caught it, two colossal forces equally matched enough so that neither could move in any direction. He hissed like a wild animal, spit flying everywhere, tiny beads of saliva spraying my face.

‘Get off me!’ I screamed, once again resorting to using my one free hand to claw and scratch at him until it really hurt. Finally, my other hand was released just enough for me to knock him away, and I jumped to my feet, staggering backwards, and he jumped to his, ready like a true fighter.

He aimed another punch at me, and I responded with a high karate-style kick, meeting him in the stomach and winding him greatly; impressive even for my standards. He punched out at me again, missing my face by inches and catching me in the neck so that I fell sideways into the wall, a thunderous crash resounding down the corridor.

I jumped back up and kicked back at him, not so well this time, but leaping sideways and round the side of him, striking out again before he could respond so that he keeled forward. He reached out to the side, dragging me down with him and I twisted so that I fell over his back, clattering down on top of him.

We were both back up again quickly, and I lashed out once again, only for him to respond, getting me straight in the stomach so I staggered back, all the breath punched out of me, leaving me empty and gasping. I yelled out, suddenly breathless, and I kicked him so that he cried aloud, crashing into the wall right by Arjan’s door, making it shudder on its hinges.

Arjan

I’d heard the gunshot, and now I could hear the fight. Cries, screams, moans of pain; mixed with the most colourful, foul language I’d heard for a long time, casually tossed down the corridor like a whole new weapon.

Something heavy crashed hard into the hotel door, and for a moment I was afraid that it would burst open. A moment later, the wall shook again and there was a long, drawn-out scream which could only have been from Hurricane, later followed by a pained grunt from whoever was out there that she was fighting.

Strangely enough, I almost wanted Hurricane to win. However terrible she’d been to me, I felt secure around her; more so than I would with any other kidnapper. Still, though, I wrenched at the shackles binding me to the drawers. I did not trust her, and yet I trusted the man she was fighting even less. The drawer clunked and clattered in its place, not coming out no matter how hard I pulled. I pulled at the handcuffs until my wrist hurt, and I could see hot, red marks forming in a ring around my skin.

Someone hit the floor hard outside, making the entire place shudder. I had no idea how no one else had arrived, but perhaps they were too afraid. There was another scream; the loudest I’d heard, and one of the longest.

‘Get off of me!’ Hurricane screeched.

‘Open that door!’ the male’s voice was just loud enough for me to hear. It was dark and dirty and murderous. Inexplicably, I noticed how my teeth bit into my bottom lip and my hands clenched into fists, terrified that this monster might hurt her.

‘You’re not taking him!’ she yelled, and I could sense that she must be in pain. It was like a tortured cry; broken and stammering and filled with the sound of agony.