***
The empty ceramic mug slipped from the grip of the old man's calloused hand. It took a split second too long for his error to register and a split second longer for his sharp reflexes to resurface, past all those years of dormancy. The news, formerly the man's center of focus, played only as a backdrop to the stinging echo of the anchor woman's voice. Although the topic had already moved on, the words were playing in his head like a broken siren.
"Convicted of fraud and three counts of manslaughter, Amelia Amador has escaped from prison..."
Upon impact with the cold kitchen floor, the mug shattered cleanly into three pieces.
Three. How fitting.
Even at his age, the old man retained the military precision his hands had conformed to since youth. However, it was as if the control he had over his body disappeared, along with the heat in his pale face. The old man stood, scanning frantically around the room to the unlocked door. From there, his eyes trailed to the drawn back curtains and the shining light coming from his front porch.
There were all too many variables.
"Careless." He muttered bitterly, directing it to himself.
It had been reckless- stupid- to let his guard down, even for a fleeting moment. Now, the man was like a fortress with its front gates wide open; vulnerable and immeasurably weakened.
From that point on, instinct took over.
He wasted no time getting to the house entrance, locking the door with a loud click. Considering how deeply he was immersed in concentration, it was a miracle he even heard the noise coming from upstairs.
A slow creak of the floor board was enough for him to know.
She was already here.
All around him, the lights that illuminated his surroundings shut off all at once. It left nothing but the warm glow of the street lamps and the ever-changing colours of the television screen to provide light. If there was any doubt in the man's mind, it was gone now. He himself had taught her this trick. She had only been a young woman at the time; a promising soldier.
With a single kick to the back of his knees and an iron grip around his neck, he was down to the ground. A cold metal point pressed against the side of his head. It pushed away the old man's short grey hairs and reached his scalp with an almost electrifying touch.
"I must admit, you're pretty easy to find." She said between deep breaths.
Whether she was panting out of fatigue or excitement, he had no idea. Her voice was laced with that of a hungry lion, waiting patiently to attack either way.
When the man finally looked up, he was face to face with Amelia Amador. Her skin, dark and coloured by the flickering TV lights was lined with sweat, cuts and scrapes.
The old soldier was reduced to a mumbling mess.
"Please. Please don't." He shook.
Without a moment of hesitation, the woman replied, "This is for the three of them."
Though he felt the cold metal of her gun being removed from the side of his head, he knew with full certainty that it was still trained onto him.
"You don't even remember their names, do you?" She taunted, tilting her head with a sick, blood stained grimace playing over her features.
Through the shuddering of clenched teeth, the old man managed to get out, "I remember it all."
"Good."
The sound of three gunshots followed.
Three. How fitting.
***
A/n: This was a writing task I did in English class and further developed it in my school's creative writing club.
The prompt was, "a man hears of a prison break on the news. He quickly goes to lock the door, but he hears a creak coming from upstairs."
It may or may not have been inspired by Daredevil season 2 (y'all should know how I gotta subtly squeeze my Marvel references into everything.)
- Dani
