La Petite Fleur

Nightmare

Steve was the first to spring from his seat. He had a split second to debate whether to sprint to the stage or to the balcony where the shot clearly came from. If he ran for the sniper, accomplices would be able to carry Antoinette off without any opposition. If he ran for the stage to protect her, the sniper would have a chance to make a second shot.

This clearly was not part of the performance. Antoinette was frozen in fear on the stage. She was standing- that was a good sign- but she was clutching her ribs- a very bad sign. She looked up to exactly the spot where he stood and their eyes met. "Go!" he shouted, making up his mind. The audience created enough chaos by now that if there were accomplices, it would be difficult for them to reach her.

She nodded, taking off toward the stage exit. He sprinted toward the balcony and ran into the sniper on the staircase. The man was dressed similarly to the assailants at the café but with a dark cloth covering his lower face. He froze when he saw Steve before turning and sprinting back the way he'd come, taking the stairs three at a time.

Steve chased after him, catching him at the top step to the balcony and throwing him to the ground. The balcony was empty the entire length around the theater, making it possible for the sniper to shoot without witnesses.

The masked man stood and kicked at Steve, but he caught the man's ankle and pushed him aside again. While on the floor, the sniper pulled something from his pocket that glinted in the dim light of the balcony. The man lunged off the floor and too late, Steve ducked the blade, receiving a nick down his jaw.

Drops of warm blood dropped to his palm where he wiped them away on his pants. With a quick snag, he latched his grip around the man's wrist and twisted so that he was forced to drop the knife. It landed on the carpet with a muffled thunk, and Steve kicked it away to the seats where the attacker would be unable to retrieve it.

They scuffled for a minute before Steve grabbed the masked man's shirt collar and ripped away his face covering. He didn't recognize the man, but it didn't matter. The man kneed him in the stomach, causing Steve to stumble backward and lose his grip. The sniper slid to the floor and scrambled to his feet before taking his chance to race down the stairwell.

Steve took off after him, trying to get a good breath of air into his burning lungs. On the stairs, he managed to grab the sniper's shoulders from behind and pulled him down so the man's head connected roughly with the steps. The man's limp body slid down the rest of the way and stopped at the bottom.

Steve jumped over the motionless figure and sprinted toward the stage exit he'd seen Antoinette run toward. The sound of his footsteps must have reached her because he heard her scream his name. Following the sound of her voice, he raced into the back room and almost tripped over an unconscious body at the doorway. He scooped up the man's gun and glanced quickly around the room.

Antoinette was being held by her throat with her back against the wall. Her satin-slippered feet scrambled against the wall, helpless beneath her since she couldn't touch the ground. Her fingernails were scraping desperately at the fingers holding her, gouging bloody grooves through her attacker's skin.

The masked man was slowly constricting his fingers, shouting at her in French that Steve didn't understand. She kept repeating a choked response, and this was clearly angering the man. She took a strangled breath before spitting in her attacker's face, infuriating him. He used his free hand to wipe his eyes clean before gripping her throat tighter and tossing her to the floor.

As she gasped for air and convulsed on the ground, the assassin pulled his gun from a pocket holster and aimed it at Antoinette. Training took hold and Steve pulled the trigger before the attacker could. The man's body slumped to the ground, lifeless.