TARGET [Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction]

Chapter 13 : Reunion

[ 3rd Person POV ]

Tonight has been one long night from hell, I think to myself as I sulk through the streets of London. Regrettably the weather has taken a turn for the worst, as always, and I am soaked through with the rain before I've even gotten three streets away. I can't see what's funnier; watching couples hopelessly trying to shelter under tiny umbrellas or the taxi drivers taking pleasure in driving through puddles, soaking nearby pedestrians. Either way, it makes me chuckle. I've already fixed my hood back in place, but it doesn't stop the rain from seeping its way down my back under my jacket. The sooner I can get back inside, the better.

After walking through Trafalgar Square, weaving through the tourists, I change course to head up through the back streets of Leicester Square, a hot spot for dealers, and one or two bag snatchers. They usually hang around in the doorways of buildings, keeping themselves in the shadows so they can observe their next prey freely without the risk of getting caught. Not that I will be falling under their gaze tonight. Typical British weather like this soon sends them back indoors into the inner clubs and brothels, leaving the leaner hunters like me in peace. The people who know me dip their heads and turn their eyes away, leaving me to continue about my business undisturbed as I walk up the streets. I spy a few police officers loitering outside a club, several drunken idiots cuffed and on the floor, cursing like children. They'll never learn. You can't get everything you want in the world, so it's best just to keep your head low, shut up, and take it.

Even though I dropped off my gun at the other side of London, I don't want to make the rookies mistake of heading straight there. Who knows who could be following me, waiting to see if I take a wrong turn. Unlike most professionals who refuse to go anywhere near the last location they made a hit at within the first few hours, I find myself subconsciously heading in that direction, getting closer towards the restaurant where all havoc broke loose only a few hours ago. The street has been closed off to traffic by the emergency services who are still there, despite the time being past midnight, the city was still alive and as busy as ever. Tourists and pedestrians fought for dominance walking along the pavement past the fire trucks and police cars, men in fluorescent jackets ordering them to keep walking. I too join in the act of the nosey Londoners, peeking a look as I squeeze my way through the crowd. The wreckage of the building still burns fiercely as fire crews still try to put out the blaze, the tower of smoke spiralling up into the wet, blackened sky. "Crazy bomber. No stoppin 'em". "Gas explosion I heard". "Chef left the cooker on was what they told me". The whispers and jaunts of gossip continue through the crowd as each passer by gives their own opinion on what they thought happened at the restaurant hours ago. Shame, I think to myself, it looked like a great place. I wouldn't have minded dining there myself.

By the time I've finally made it to my drop off point, I'm soaked through with the rain. If I did have a shadow following me, they have long since gone as now the streets are nearly deserted, save for a few homeless people and the odd late-night jogger. Even though my body has been on autopilot for the duration, my mind has been busy at work trying to formulate a plan, and needless to say, it's becoming trickier by the minute. I'm a hitman by trade, so considering that my boss, this 'Devil', wants me to swap my trade to kidnapping, it doesn't settle well with me. If my target had been a low profiled no-body then it wouldn't be too bad. I could have them wrapped up and gone within an hour of getting their name. But they aren't; they are a high class priority, and well known at that. There's no way that I could just nab them off the street, not when praying eyes are everywhere watching them. I need to draw them out of their safety zone into my playing field.

Casting a quick look over my shoulder to check the coast is clear, I cut down the side street beside St Paul's Cathedral and keeping to the shadows, walk through the concealed archway into the back street. I walk past the taxi ranch and head towards the side window of the building, making sure to casually check over my shoulder again, just in case I am being followed. Seeing the coast is clear, I pause by the window and reach under the windowsill, sliding across the hidden compartment and pull out my backpack, checking the safety zip to make sure it hadn't been tampered with before closing up. With my rifle safely back in my possession, I continue on my next destination, towards the river. If I was going to do this job correctly, I was going to need some help, and a few crooks here and there to help.