Vivacious [H.S]

Twenty One

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"To your left! No, no to your right! Zayn! Watch out!" Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance as his elbow collided with someone's nose, swiftly turning around to shoot the person in head, his limp body falling backwards. 

"Niall shut the fuck up! Quit yelling in my ear, I can't concentrate." 

"I just want to help," Niall whined back, oddly excited to be witnessing all this violence, he was sitting in the car, a distance away from the action, letting out little squeals and covering his eyes as the horrific scenery of blood and fighting covered his laptop screen. 

"You're not fucking helping." Harry spat back, debating just taking the earpiece out of his ear and throwing it to the ground. 

"Niall, stay in the car and stay hidden ok!" Zayn's voice echoed through the earpiece and Harry rolled his eyes as he ducked, avoiding a punch before shooting a man in the stomach. The amount of men they were fighting slowly began to reduce, no casualties on Harry's side as they began seeing their fast approaching victory. 

"Harry," Zayn breathed, suddenly appearing next to him. Blood stained his clothes and he had a gash on his forehead that made Harry frown in concern.

"Are you alright?" Harry yelled at him, trying to be heard over the blaring sound of gunshots and fighting, he placed a hand on Zayn's cheek, inspecting his face. 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." Zayn replied, warming in slightly to Harry's touch, his eyes widened at something behind Harry and suddenly he pushed him aside, standing in front of Harry protectively as he shot at someone who had his gun aimed at his head. 

"Thank Z, always got my back." Harry laughed, practically ignoring the fact that he would have been a dead man if not for Zayn. The pair smiled at each other before going back to the fight, which only lasted about ten more minutes before soon it was only left with the opposing group's leader, the one who had been making fun of them in all his cockiness mere minutes ago, now alone, his dead men surrounding him, as he pointed his gun wildly in all directions, knowing all hope was lost. 

"What are you going to do with him boss?" One of Harry's men asked and the others cackled with laughter, taunting the defeated man, Harry smiled, mind racing with different ways he would make art today, different ways he would get the man to scream and make that horrific noise that Harry loved to hear, the pain he loved to see. Meanwhile Zayn had gone about making sure all the men had taken off their earpieces and cameras, ensuring Niall wouldn't be able to see any of the horror Harry would soon inflict. Even though Niall was almost the same age as them, just a year or two younger, his guileless behaviour and innocent excitement and happiness made Zayn think of him more as a little brother than an adult which ironically made him wonder why the fuck they had hired him in the first place. 

"I recall you mentioning something about bending over backwards?" Harry questioned in a diabolical manner, suddenly and quickly punching the man harshly in the stomach causing him to double over and fall on his knees. "Because the only one I'm seeing bending over is you." Harry mocked, squatting opposite the man, a callous smile covering his face as he slammed the end of his gun into the man's nose before quickly standing up and kicking him in the chest, sending him flying backwards, a loud crack to be heard as his head collided with the concrete floor. Harry's men laughed around him, heart's hardened and indifferent to their boss' ghastly means of exacting revenge. 

"I say we take turns with him." One man joked, and Harry turned to reply when he caught Zayn's gaze, his smile quickly falling as he saw the disappointment in Zayn's eyes. He swiftly turned away from him, hand on the Mexican's shirt as he pulled him up, ready to punch him again when suddenly, he couldn't. The empty grey eyes and gratifying smile of Aurelie Blondeau came to view and he began to wonder what she would think of him if she saw him inflicting pain like this, if she knew the way he relished and basked in the art of hurting others and that their screams were like music to his ears. She'd be afraid of him, and for once, Harry Styles didn't want that fear, he didn't want her to be afraid of him, he wanted her to love him, to be able to touch him without recoiling in pure and utter disgust. Without thinking he pulled out his gun and abruptly shot the man in the forehead, not even flinching at the warm blood that splattered against his face, choosing for the first time ever, to give his enemy a quick and painless death.