Prologue
The chilly November night whipped against Gideon's face, causing him to lower the hood of his coat. His casual footfalls echoed throughout the deserted cobblestone streets of Paris, his gaze focused on the form of his target. Strolling further into the back doors of the city of love, the quintessential setting for romance gradually dissipated into the shadows, only to be replaced with a heavy, ominous feeling that lingered in the air; the residual energy during Paris' darkest times.
Or more specifically, the darkness that lied underneath this breath-taking facade.
Once the man in a trench coat entered a local pub, Gideon secluded himself at one of the centuries-old buildings with a clear view of the entrance. Leaning on the structure's brick wall, he plugged in his earphones--blaring to BMTH--and waited for his prey to emerge.
Gideon checked his watch impatiently. 2AM. Fuck. It had been forty-eight hours since he last returned to his rented apartment--make that a shoebox--and actually slept. And in his current condition, he was in dire need for a shut-eye.
No. I mustn't. The last time that happened, Gideon found himself trapped in that nightmare of a memory, and the pain of the past resurfaced. He had seen a pattern, the nightmares would usually occur during this month--November--as if constantly reminding him of his lost. To never forget.
His fists clenched in his pockets, as the images of that dreadful night two years ago flashed in his head. The scars on his back that lay dormant for more than a year, twitched in response.
No. Don't think about it. Focus on the assignment.
Oliver Sykes continued to scream his heart out through the earphones. Unfortunately for Gideon, he didn't have a reason to start again--he wouldn't. He was forever bound to his fate, with the past clinging to his heart like chains as a reminder.
After an hour of possible exposure to hypothermia, the man appeared from the double doors, and walked to the opposite direction. He staggered left and right as he fought off his equilibrium. Gideon gave him a head start before he trailed him.
He pushed his fists further down his coat. The heaviness of his concealed weapon holstered on him gave a sense of reassurance and protection. It took a while for him to adjust to this kind of life he half-heartedly entered, not that he have much of a choice to begin with.
The man headed out towards the main road, his aura radiated with a similar, oppressive vibe as the alleyway they just left. After fifteen minutes, he stopped at a barricaded section of the empty side walk. With all drunkenness gone, he glanced at both sides before he jumped over the fence and descended into the ground.
Gideon quickly approached the five by five metal barrier and peered down at the solid, steel door. He smirked in spite of himself; he led Gideonp directly to the hellhole he originated. Before proceeding, Gideon took out his highly modified Balkan pistol; the weight of it familiar--almost intimate.
After uttering a small prayer, he leaped over the barricade with his gun ready to kill.
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A/N: Hey there! Don't forget to react if you enjoyed the chapter or ❤ if you liked the entire story so far! And please don't be a silent reader and comment your thoughts! I'll look forward to it! - J
