Room 327

Nikki watched as men in suites loaded up five black SUVs, scouted the area, checked the skies. It was a warm day out, fresh and sunny. Nikki wore a pair of high-waisted shorts and a V-neck t-shirt to keep her cool. Her hazel eyes sparked with annoyance, the whole face of her being screwed into a scowl as she stood beside a man only a couple inches taller than her five-foot frame.

Jet Li stood motionless just to the left and in front of of the Bengali diplomat's daughter. A position that was ready to jump in front of her if necessary. Being the young woman's body guard for the last ten years prepared him to know when she was in a foul mood. A date with friends had been canceled because a “threat” had been ordered against her father yet again. It was pointless, really. How many threats did he receive in his life and his security team jumped to full attack mode if a bird flew into the living room window.

Nikki's father was loaded into the second SUV. Jet's hand rested against her elbow, directing her towards the next vehicle. She jerked her arm away. “I can walk on my own, thanks.” As she crawled into the SUV, Jet let his eyes roll from behind his sunglasses. Letting out a sigh to compose himself for the journey ahead, he stepped into the vehicle after her.

Jet took his seat beside the still irate eighteen year old without a word, buckling his seat belt and glancing to make sure she had done so to hers. She had. The SUV trekked out of the driveway. No conversation passed in the vehicle. Jet surveyed the scene out his window and Nikki kept her eyes straight ahead. The silence stretched between them as trees began to flash by. Nikki fiddled with the rings on her fingers, becoming uncomfortable with the quiet. Jet was one of few words, but this was ridiculous.

Finally, the girl turned to her body guard and demanded, “are you going to talk to me or not?” Her sharp voice cut through the air, startling the driver slightly. He peered in his rear view at the duo.

“You are having a bad day so no,” came the simple reply.

Nikki scoffed. “I'm only having a bad day because you won't let me go out and have fun.”

“I will not let you go have fun because I am supposed to protect you,” said Jet, turning to finally look at her from behind his sleek sunglasses. “If I let you go out every time there was sign of danger what kind of guardian would I be?”

“Well, you could be a guardian who's a little less guardian-y,” Nikki said, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat. “I just want to be normal.”

“There is no such thing as normal.” Nikki rolled her eyes, knowing that she was about to receive a Buddha-sounding lecture with lots of deep, hidden meanings that would take a couple hours for her to understand. However, Nikki didn't complain; she liked his thick Chinese accent. It was rather adorable. “Normal is simply what society expects of the norm. 'Normal' varies from place to place, culture to culture. What you suspect as normal and what I suspect as normal are two different things.”

“Yeah, well, one culture should understand another person's culture and their societal norms,” Nikki shot back.

Jet nodded in agreement. “I was trained to fully understand your society's norms before I came here. Now the question is—do you understand mine?”

Nikki opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. Turning her head away, she glared out the side window. The smallest of smiles crossed Jet's face, but he quickly suppressed it by looking out his own side window.

“So Joanna is having this party...”

“Nikita.” The soft statement of her name made her close her mouth against the offer she was about to make. It stated “case is closed. No arguments. My answer is no” with one word.

Eyebrows furrowing, Nikki turned around to face her body guard. “But I—”

The SUV in front of them exploded, sending a shock wave rocking them back against their seats and the driver swerving to miss the blazing inferno. Nikita screamed, grasping at the handle above her head as the SUV fishtailed. It came to a bone crushing stop against a tree. The driver's head had collided with the trunk on ricochet, killing him instantly. Jet had latched onto the door handle with his own death grip and seemed mostly unharmed. However, turning to Nikki he found her unconscious with a bleeding scalp.

Without hesitation, the Chinaman unbuckled his seat belt before reaching over and undoing hers. He glanced out his window, seeing a small group of masked men making their way from the tree-enthralled landscape, checking the other SUVs that had not wandered so far from the pack. Jet turned back to the unconscious girl, looping one of her arms around his neck and lifting her from under her knees. With awesome stealth, hardly a misplaced movement, he drug them both out of the vehicle and ducked around the other side—out of sight as rounds of gunfire started.

Squatting down, using his knees to keep her against him, Jet turned her face to his. “Nikita?” He pried open an eye, checked her pulse. Alive, but out cold. Sighing, he adjusted her in his hold. Glass cracked from the opposite side of the SUV. Still holding onto Nikki, Jet peeked under the vehicle, glimpsing two pairs of booted feet. Not so much as a flicker of panic rose within the small Chinese man as he released Nikki's body. And waited.

As soon as the first masked man came around the vehicle, Jet struck. First a snapping of the wrist that held the gun, then a blow to the trachea. The man reached up at his crushed airpipe, emitting a startled gurgle before Jet reached up and snapped his neck. The other man appeared. Jet grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the vehicle and out of sight. Within a split second, the man was knocked to the ground, pinned by the Chinese man half his size.

“Who do you work for?” Jet demanded lowly, pulling at the man's arm. The shoulder socket protested and the man groaned.

The man began muttering a language that Jet had no comprehensive idea of how to translate. That left out English, Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Bengali, and Arabic. It had to be Russian. Without hesitation, the man's head was slammed into the ground with such force his brain ricocheted against his skull.

Jet moved about quietly, listening to the conversation going about the road. There was no gunfire, no sounds of a fight or resistance. He was on his own then. Nikita was gently lifted as the Chinaman surveyed the scene. There was a line of trees, not very thick, but enough to keep the bullets at bay—if he stepped right.

Inhaling deeply, Jet made a dash for the line of trees, keeping Nikki's small figure clutched against his chest. An alarmed chorus sounded from behind him. His speed was hindered by that of the extra weight, but no time to consider the obstacle. The roaring of machine guns rose behind them, peppering the ground, sending dirt flying. Jet pressed harder, the trees drawing near. A blast of pain shot through his side, rocking his form forward. He stumbled, but managed to keep himself upright for the sake of keeping Nikki protected.

The first line of trees surrounded them. Bark flew in pelting splinters. Dodging between them, Jet tried to stay on his feet, pushing the pain roaring in his side to the back of mental consciousness. His pursuers were screaming at him, at each other. Jet kept his eyes forward, searching for the tell-tale thickness of the trees. If only he could stay ahead of them enough—

There.

Jet dodged right, nearly losing his footing, and slid into a precarious pile of giant limbs. Keeping Nikki up with one arm, his hands fluttered over the damp earth before finding a latch. He lifted it and a whole portion of the ground rose with it, revealing a dank hole that rose up to swallow them. With one last burst of strength, Jet threw Nikki over his shoulder and threw his legs into the hole before dropping down and closing the hatch above them.