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The Major’s Mercedes screeched as he took another rough turn, burning the car’s tires onto the pavement. Though it did little to stop the two vehicles from continuing to follow them, Eberbach saw one of them drive up the sidewalk — while the other missed the back of his car by centimeters.
Agent G groaned in pain as they took the turn, shakily clutching her bleeding thigh as she laid over the backseat. Agent Z had been holding her other hand, both so she could squeeze it when the waves of pain came, and so she wouldn’t fall onto the floor of the car.
Agent A cocked his gun, watching the two cars that tailed them in the rearview mirror. He shot at them through the window, only to miss the tires — his body freezing as a bullet, as thick as his finger, flies by his head.
The agent suddenly gasped — standing motionless, before the Major’s yells awoke him again.
“There’s goddamn speed bumps everywhere”, the Major groans, speeding up the car. G whimpered again.
“It’s okay”, Z says, letting his hand be squeezed tighter, letting it become white from pressure. “We’re almost at the office now—”
“ Shut the fuck up back there !” The Major yells, making the agent flinch. “Let him cry! That’s what he gets for being caught off-guard — if he’d killed the man that shot him, we wouldn’t fucking be here !”
“Major!” A yells, as a blast destroys the left rearview mirror. But Eberbach quickly took off, taking another turn before he could ever see where the shot had come from.
Z leaned over G’s body with the blast, whilst the Agent kept holding his hand, whimpering quietly into his ear.
“I’m going to die”, G says.
“No, no, you won’t”, Z replies.
“We aren’t going to make it. I’m going to bleed out, and I’m going to die here..!”
“It’s only five more minutes, G.”
“We aren’t going to make it…”
Z couldn’t look the agent in the face. He only stared at the window, watching the bullets fly by it — up until he heard G start to sob.
“Please, don’t call me that.”
Z furrowed his eyebrows, confused.
“What?”
“Please, call me Greta. My name is Greta…” G’s voice became lower, shrinking with each syllable.
“Give me that”, the Major growls, grabbing A’s gun from his hand. A breathed heavily — he had seen the gun. He watched as that man shot it — it could have nearly blown his head off, just like it had blown off the rearview mirror, if he hadn’t moved—
“A! Take the wheel!”
A turns to the Major, eyes wide open, before the Major’s hand struck him across the face. “ Pay attention! Take the fucking wheel, A! ”
A nodded, his head pounding from all sides. He gripped the steering wheel as the Major held onto the ceiling of the car, taking out his gun before leaning out the window, shooting at the car closest to them.
He hears screeching tires. One was down, and there was one left. He should have guessed. The Major shot much better than him — he did anything much better than him. A knew he should have killed the man that shot G, but at that moment, he could only pull the agent inside the car so they could escape.
The skin of his cheek burned as hot as the tire marks on the pavement. Agent A could only wonder when this would end.
G put her head on Z’s lap. He let her squeeze his hand, he held her closer, so she wouldn’t fall — he looked down at her, bringing their faces closer with each shot of a gun, each turn of the car, each whimper and each squeeze of the hand.
“Give me the Magnum!” The Major yelled from the window. Barely able to think, A took the weapon from the secret compartment in the Major’s car, handing it to him. The Major’s foot was still in the accelerator as the Mercedes ran over red light after red light, nearly hitting a biker as it sped up.
A looked at the rearview window above him again. He saw G and Z, holding one another, then the cars that followed them. He didn’t even know who they could be. One of the men leaned over the window to shoot, just like the Major had — and A looked away, back to the road.
He hears two shots, tires screeching, then screams — before the Major sat down next to him again, shaking his head as he looked down.
“I got him”, he said. “Get your hands off the wheel.”
The agent looked at the rearview mirror again — the remaining car had crashed into a street lamp. He hadn’t even heard the crash — but now he heard police officers, and A could finally see their office building, at the end of the street.
“They’re gone”, the Major sighs. The Major doesn’t look at him, and neither does A, sitting completely still, staring forward at the office building.
The Mercedes continued to speed all the way to their office — but once they stopped to park, the Major rammed the Mercedes into the parked car in front of them.
Z gasped, but immediately brushed it off. He looked outside, seeing the other Alphabets rushing towards them. “G’s injured!” He yells. “Get a doctor!”
G watches him, her head still on his lap, her hand still clutching her thigh.
“ Tset ”, she says softly, sobbing.
“It’s okay”, the agent smiled. “We’re here, Greta. It’s over.”
A opened the car door, but before he could step out, the Major ran into the other car again.
“Major?” He asked, turning towards him.
“I can’t see.”
His superior held up his hands, looking down at them, covered in blood. His head was bleeding.
“Major?”
“I can’t fucking see. I think I’m blind.”
A jumped out of the car, sliding over the hood of the Mercedes before he tried to force open the Major’s door, but he had locked it. Agent A finally saw him up close. His head was bleeding, a trail of blood dripping down his nose, his mouth. The Major reversed the car once more, before slamming into the car again. “Major, stop!” A yelled, for the first time.
A heard G’s groans. He turned to see Z and the other Alphabets getting the injured agent out, through the window of the car.
“ Major! ”, he repeats, desperate.
“Where’s Lord Gloria?” The Major asks. He tsks. “There’s something in my fucking face”, he groans.
He pulled the hair on his forehead back, and A finally saw the bleeding, gaping hole in it.
The Agent stared, unable to move.
“What did you say, sir?”
The Major hesitates for a second, looking down at his hands, before drowsily looking up at A.
“Where’s Lord Gloria? He should be here by now.”
Chatter and gasps became louder. A quickly realized the street had become overcrowded with agents and onlookers alike, mostly Alphabets. He saw the Chief running down towards him. He blinked, and the older man’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder.
“A? What happened?”
“We were ambushed”, he says. “G got shot. The Major is asking for Lord Gloria.”
“Lord Gloria?” The Chief asks. “What’s he talking about?”
A hesitates for a second.
“Major, why did you ask for Eroica?”
The agent turned back to the car, smelling of broken machinery and the smoke from underneath the hood. The Major’s head was slumped back on the driver’s seat, his eyes closed and his mouth slightly agape.
A doesn’t say a word, and neither does the Chief, nor do any of the Alphabets surrounding the car. There is nothing but the smell of burnt iron and the sound of the passing cars of the Autobahn, black smoke rising in the afternoon air.