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Escape From Paris 7/?

[(Anonymous)]

Xavier stepped aside while the hatch was still open to light up a cigarette. He crept in while the shorter man had his back turned. Inside there were all kinds of weapons and monitors. There was a large map on the table, with a red circle around what would’ve been the Paris Enclosure. He ducked underneath a counter and waited until he heard footsteps. The rebel returned and clicked a few buttons on one of the monitors before Vincent slammed his face into the console. He held the man’s arms still and held him down with his own weight.

“Alright asshole, how long have you and the priest been in cahoots? What’s that militia you were talking about?”

“Fuck your mother.” The man snapped. Vincent knee’d him in the balls and the man groaned hoarsely.

“If you don’t talk to me I’ll have to hand you over to those vultures and they’ll rip your intestines out.” He said. The man still said nothing but bit his lip. Vincent slammed him again. “Fine. You’re funeral.” He got out his device again and called a drop team. Not long after the two were outside the bunker, Xavier being ushered away in a helicopter. A few of the men went inside the bunker to investigate.

“Lots of valuable info in here, Mr. Kavinsky. It’s amazing that all this stuff was just hiding under our noses a few miles away from any check point.” One of the lieutenants told him. He nodded.

“Are there any cigarettes in there?” He asked. One of the men brought some forward.

“Several cartons.” He said. Vincent took as much as he could stuff into his pockets and left the scene, trudging on to Norway.

---

Vincent exhaled sloppily and leaned back in his chair. Sort-of-freedom never felt so good. He was in Amsterdam chowing down on some delicious mutton and pastries and smoking a blunt. They’d almost denied him service when they knew he was French, worried that he might be an agent for Sebastian (which he was) but, surprisingly, the fact that he was blatantly infected with a severe disease meant nothing to them. The Dutch were more than understanding and accommodating for the sick but not for those loyal to that bastard Sebastian. Technically though Sebastian was their emperor too but Vincent supposed that didn’t mean they had to like it. And everyone was stoned here so he figured that was why loyalty wasn’t as strongly enforced as it was in Paris.

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” His waitress was lovely and blonde and he was sitting outside. The air was clear and clean, a pleasure to breath. The sky was blue, grass was green and trees were plentiful and healthy. And it wasn’t just the joint making his eyes orgasm, being inside what Paris had become for most of your life made anything beautiful. He smiled at her.

“No thank you ma’am.” He said. He sipped his iced tea as she left. He truly was in paradise here. Perhaps after he killed those scientists he would ask Sebastian to let him live here…

That reminded him…Gaspard had said that he didn’t think Vincent would be able to take them. Should he be worried. He knew that he enemies were fortified with state of the art prototype mobile armor but he really didn’t know what that mean. The only mobile armors he’d seen in use were the bulky K-suits back in Paris that were brought out when riots got out of control. They were easily taken down with shock grenades or a good shot to the legs. Would these new suits be much different?

His arm itched. He looked sourly down at the little bullet bruise in his arm where the tracking device was. He held it up to his ear and heard a very slight hum coming from it. He sighed. What if he couldn’t defeat the thieves? Should he return empty handed? What would they do if they had to come get him? Kill him? Torture him? There were so many things he didn’t know, so many things he had no control over.

Then again, Sebastian didn’t know everything either. And he didn’t have control, not over Amsterdam and not over Gaspard. The priest…How awful was it going to be when Vincent or whoever finally told Sebastian that not only did the man hate him but he was going behind his back with some malefactor?

Vincent smirked, remembering what Xavier had said. Perhaps to maintain appearances he should start referring to Sebastian as “junkless” for a while.