Rogue Shadow

Chapter 7 - You Can't Die When You Still Owe Me A Favour

Chapter 7 – You're Not Going to Die While You Owe Me A Favour

15:24 Tuesday, 27th May 2008

An ear-piercing scream brought Lexi out of her daze. Danya was in trouble. Lexi saw her sister collapsed in a heap on the other side of the roof. She forced herself up, locking her eyes on Danya. That little girl was her best friend; her only family. And someone dared to hurt her. They would have hell to pay.

Three agents approached her, all with blank faces and identical uniforms. Alexios shot the first one in the knee as she charged at him. Using his shoulders as a springboard, she threw herself into the air, twisting her make-shift perch as she pushed off him, forcing the man to collapse under her grasp. Lexi landed a fist on the second man's face, legs hooking around his neck as she choked him dead in one move. She flung herself off the limp body, flipping in the air once, she kicked the third man to the ground. Lexi's hand slithered to her boot as she flipped. Sliding out a small dagger, she held it in an ice-pick grip, embedded it in the third man's chest.

Alexei looked up through a curtain of hair, her eyes a raging storm of fire and flood. Anger radiated off the child in waves. She yanked her dagger out of the dead man's torso; she was out for blood. Alexei tore her way through the assassins, killing anyone who dared to stand in her way. Alexei appeared to be nothing more than a blur of movement. Leaving a trail of death and destruction in her wake.

The assassins finished off the KGB agents near them and turned to watch the child in bewilderment. It seemed that nothing would stand in that little girl's way of getting to her sister. The American stood dumbfounded off to the side as a child single-handedly took out twenty plus KGB assassins, with barely more than a scratch here and there. It was chilling to watch such a young child fight and kill so mercilessly and without hesitation. With a start, the American remembered where he recognised Azrael's fighting style. He had seen his partner, Natasha, perform the exact same moves throughout the years. He was brought out of his thoughts by the eerie silence that followed the brutal battle scene. Everyone was dead.

After finishing off the last of the KGB agents, Azrael ran to her sister. She pulled her into a bone-crushing hug for a brief moment before helping her stand. With support from her older sister, the younger girl was able to stand. Tasha spotted an injury on the younger sister; her leg had been damaged. She was keeping most weight on the opposite leg, a streak of blood ran down the other. Azrael only sported a few cuts and scrapes, as well as a bloody nose that she seemed completely oblivious to. The two spoke in hushed voices. The American picked up a few words here and there, but none of them made sense to him. Tasha looked at her partner and held up four fingers, mouthing a few words to him in English.

After listening to the girls whisper back and forth in what sounded like gibberish, she had realised that it was actually a mix between multiple languages. Russian. German. Latin. Greek. This made it practically impossible to decipher what they were saying, as they switched so rapidly and easily. The mix of tongues came so fluidly to them, it seemed as if it could be a single language, natively spoken by the children. There was never a stutter or falter as they conversed.

The two adults walked over to the sisters. The younger of the pair looked worse for wear, the older; as if she could take on an army. The Russian woman narrowed her eyes slightly when the younger child seemed to flinch in pain. She brought her hand to her abdomen and seemed to lean a little heavier on the older girl. The child was more injured than she had previously thought.

"Are you alright?" Barton asked in Russian, thick American accent coating the words. He received two small nods, but no vocal confirmation. Liars.