The Elites

Chapter Thirteen

Thinking about it, we had two problems. On closer inspection, the anvil was hanging behind where the man stood with Lara. It wasn't by much, but there was no way it would fall on him.

The second problem was, even if we could get the man positioned underneath it, it would only fall and hit Lara too. There had to be a way to use it to our advantage. I started to try and get through possible loopholes, but I figured every game was well calculated. If it was a difficult problem Violet would've put more time on the clock. Strangely, it was like she wanted us to win.

Will and Blair had started to scramble for ways to drop the anvil carefully too, and I started to see a pattern forming. My years working separately from any other Agent had really taken its toll on my work strategy. I didn't even think to discuss things with my best friends because I figured I'd do better by myself, regardless of Will and Blair's intelligence and credits as fellow Elites. Despite Stasia being unbearable anyway, I had no doubt that it would've been easier to work with her five years ago than it was now.

I was still aiming the gun at the man's head when the timer had ticked down to a minute. The fifth cubicle had been kicked open in desperate attempt to find something else and Lara's face had started to turn a deep red as the man's grip around her neck remained strong. I looked back at the screen to see the hostages; one of the women, no older than twenty, had tears streaming down her face, while Will's cousin Lee had shut his eyes tight.

Then it occurred to me: this anvil clearly wasn't designed to drop and kill the man. It was designed to kill, but not in as simple a way as we'd first thought. There was a reason it was positioned too far behind the man and there was a reason Violet had said he'd remain still while we figured it out.

What we had to do, or at least what I hoped would work, hit me, and I beckoned for Will to come closer. He rushed to my side as I aimed the gun at the rope holding the anvil on its end and fired straight at it.

"What the hell are you-" Blair screeched as the rope snapped and the anvil came crashing to the ground, not the man's skull.

The man chuckled as he turned to see the large dip in the marble floor where the anvil had crashed before giving me a pitiful how can you be so stupid look.

"Distract him," I muttered to Will, passing him the gun I'd used before walking forwards and running my hands through my hair, hoping to look distressed and at a loss.

"I thought it'd work..." I said in feign annoyance. Lara glared at me with a mixture of anger and pure fright as the countdown continued to tick down closer and closer to zero.

"Are you serious Harry?" Blair yelled after me as I walked past the man and Lara and towards the anvil. "That was our only-"

"I thought it'd work," I said in a louder voice. The man had turned to face me, and it was at this point that I really needed Will to do as I'd asked.

Thankfully, by the time I'd positioned myself behind the anvil and stooped to attempt to pick it up, Will had raised the gun at the man himself and was yelling something about shooting him anyway. This had made the man turn his attention away from the distressed idiot that had dropped the anvil too far behind him and towards the man in a rage threatening to blow his brains out.

Maybe my thinking was stupid; anvils are heavy. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to lift it above the ground let alone lift it above my own head and drop it on the man's. Then there was the problem of whether he'd have enough reaction time to fire a bullet at Lara before he dropped. I found myself going through the same thought process I'd had in the kitchen: despite it being the woman I was so obviously not over, if I managed to kill him without beating him or shooting him then the hostages would be saved and the games would carry on, even if it meant Lara died too.