The Hunting

Chapter Four:

17:23PM, July 13th

Central Park, New York.

I rush over to Will, he has blood splattered all over his face, and the agents body is laying limply over his body. I kneel down quickly and push the agent's body off Will. Will pushes himself up to his elbows and looks at me with the most unusual expression, I think it's astonishment perhaps it's shock. I search the agents grey coat, I'm looking for a a phone, an encrypted phone is definitely something that would be useful, until they realise that this agent is dead and then his phone will be disconnected, or worse they trace its location which will affect me more. My hand falls on the phone in his pocket, I continue rifling his pockets until I land on what I hope is his badge. I pull is out and open it quickly. I shove the agent over so that he's lying on his back. I compare the photo to the dead man lying on the concrete, yup same guy. I read his name, Harrison Jefferson, he looks like he has a family, I wonder if they know what he gets up to at work? But then again, most agents don't have families, especially in the CIA, less people to miss you if you one day suddenly vanish — which happens more often than one would assume...

"We need to get out of here. Like, right now." Says Will louder than he needed.

I glare at him, I'm trying to come to terms with what I just did, killing someone wasn't on my agenda, and it certainly wasn't on my agenda to do it for someone other than myself in a time of desperation. I feel myself hate Will for something he had no knowledge of, something he probably wouldn't understand.

I stand and I drag Will up from, he's heavy not fat, just heavy I think its his muscles, I'm just not sure. His face is badly battered and there is blood everywhere, there is literally nowhere we could go where he wouldn't immediately get noticed, he has to clean up before we think about leaving the park, I can't afford to have more eyes on me than I already do.

There's public toilets about five-hundred meters away, but I am still cautious because there was two agents after me and I was only able to take care of one of them, that means theres still someone that I am aware of that is after us. They'll be sending in reinforcements in about three minutes, we've been in Central Park for almost an hour, the agents that have been taken care of would have been sending live info or updates every two minutes.

Only three hundred meters to go. Will is walking slowly, getting his bearings back. Slow is better anyway because its giving me enough time to thoroughly scout the area for the missing agent or new ones and thats the hard part because if this was my OP I go out of my way to make sure the agents were blending in and not making themselves seen so obviously, but older less creative minds are behind this and that is exactly what I'm counting on, their lack of creativity.

Finally, we reach the toilet, my bag is weighing heavily on my back and it seems like its getting heavier with each passing moment, or exertion of energy. Now it feels like I have even more baggage with Will slightly incapacitated. Will pulls out his wallet, I hear the coins jingle, he pulls out a quarter and places in the coin slot that allows you to use a public toilet. I stand outside and put the gun back in the holster between my legs. So far no one has looked at me funny, or even glanced my way which is making me nervous. Its uncommon for people not to look at you. I knock on the door of the restroom, hurriedly, ten seconds later Will is opening the door and looks far better. Being British I can only hope he knew not to drink the water from a public restroom, because thats just freakin' filthy, severely unhygienic and unsanitary, not to mention the numerous infestations the city has.

"Can we go now?" He questions.

I nod my approval, we're leaving the park and we need to be unnoticed.

"Where should we go? I ask quickly. I've never been on the run before and I certainly haven't been hunted by a government agency before and for all I know it could actually be multiple agencies. Which is when it hits me that the only reason a British agent would be working on American soil is because he works for MI6, and now I know I can't trust him.