"Be very quiet," Jack warned, looking her in the eyes. The bell which hung at the front entrance chimed. He took a peek back into the round window in time for the front door to close, but no one was there. Kathryn slowly peered through the oblong service gap. Just then, a hand reached through the window space and grabbed Kathryn by her hair. She shrieked; her hair strands stiffened and her neck went crooked as she tried pulling away. "No!" Jack exclaimed, and charged through the café kitchen door.
It was another agent. This one—in a stark green suit—had Kathryn in his grasp. As he pulled out a tactical combat knife from behind his belt, he looked back to see Jack emerge, and he smiled. As Jack held up a fist to strike, the agent released Kathryn and rolled backwards. He had a double-edged honed blade in each hand when he stood back up. The knives were of high quality, crafted to be one-piece stainless steel, so it was obvious the agent would put up a better fight than the last. Witness to this and his ready position, Jack stopped in his tracks.
"What do you want?" barked Jack.
"I've come to bring you in. If you refuse, I have orders to cause you and her harm until you cooperate,” Valdi declared.
"I’m tired of this. On whose orders?"
"Oh, please. There are no asking questions when someone threatens you. Just come quietly, or you shall regret it," the agent advised.
"I have no reason to trust you or the people you represent."
"Who said anything about trust? Either yes or no will do. What will it be? I wasn't trained to be patient," bemoaned Valdi.
"Then, no," Jack answered.
"Good!" Valdi flung his held knives forward in succession. The first knife narrowly missed Jack's face as he leaned away, while the second skimmed his outer thigh. Right afterwards, Valdi retrieved two more knives from the back of his belt. Jack rolled backward, and as he stood, Valdi underhandedly tossed another blade. Jack flung open the kitchen door so it situated between them, and the knife dug chest-high into its plastic surface. Jack proceeded into the kitchen, where Kathryn stood alert.
"Kathryn, you need to get outta here!" Jack waved her away as he backed further into the room.
One foot out the rear exit door, she turned her head to ask, "Are you going to let this bastard ruin my place?"
"No." Kathryn exited, and as the door swung closed, the agent entered the kitchen in time to fling a knife to the rear doorway. Timed and aimed with the utmost precision, the blade struck Kathryn in the calf. She yipped, and stumbled out of sight. "You son of a..." Jack said, gritting his teeth. Jack slammed his boot against the kitchen entrance door, but Valdi side-stepped before it swung into his shoulder. Jack took a hefty swing, and Valdi rolled away. The agent stood with haste, but Jack was already on him before he could turn to face him.
Jack jumped at the agent’s turned backside and held Valdi’s arms behind him by the biceps. Valdi snapped himself forward, moving Jack’s grip from his biceps to his wrists. Flipping forward, Valdi struck Jack’s jaw with his heel, freeing himself from his grasp. As he landed on his feet, Valdi reached down his back for two more knives. He had ample supply. While Jack was staggered, Valdi slid backwards and bared the blades with a downward flick, and then jabbed the knives into Jack’s legs. This guy had moves.
Jack winced and leapt back. He ripped the embedded knives from his upper legs and threw them in opposite directions. Valdi twisted his head over his left shoulder, revealing a grin. Jack grabbed a cast iron pot next to him and swung it across Valdi’s face, smashing the smile off of it. Valdi spun a full turn during his momentary imbalance. Jack picked up a frying pan with his free hand as the wobbled agent regained his poise.
Valdi retrieved two more knives and tossed up an offensive stance. Armed with the pot and pan, Jack only stood a chance by going on the defense. He deflected the knives with the cookware, dodging and striking back at Valdi’s hands when possible.
The extra weight behind those swings elevated the strikes from blunt to crushing, making it all the more difficult to repress expressions of agony, even for a professional such as Valdi. By the end of the fight, his hands and forearms were pocked in purple bruises. Jack’s pot and pan didn’t fair much better, for they were scratched to hell.
When Valdi had thrust a knife toward Jack's chest, the pot and pan were used to hold back the attack at the agent's wrist. The blade, centimeters from Jack's sternum, slowly crept forward. Hands trembling, they both pushed back with an increasing amount of force. Even with a foot behind him for support, Valdi began to gradually slide backwards across the floor. A bead of sweat ran down from his temple. He swallowed a grunt as his jowls flexed. His wrist tendons stretched and his hand bones popped.
Valdi leaned in for a final push. Jack veered the blade down and away from himself. Valdi smiled and shook his head as he drove the other blade forward. Jack dropped the pot and pan to hold Valdi by the wrist, but it was too late. Jack witnessed the blade sink into his chest. The sharp blade penetrated his skin, yet it shattered against his ribs. Shocked, both of them leapt apart. The agent gazed at the broken knife in his hand, having only the hilt left. He stared at Jack with judgment.
"How did you...? You DO have it!" Valdi asserted. He recalled his priorities, as he was reminded earlier, yet he knew even Baxter couldn’t have predicted this outcome.
Jack jumped at the opportunistic pause by grabbing Valdi’s arm. They wrestled for control over the last blade, kneeing the other to weaken them. The constant adrenaline made Jack's head throb.
A hissing sound nearby interrupted their attention-- a gas line from a stove was punctured during the scuffle. They furiously stared each other down, straining to claim the weapon for good. Eventually, they both tried to toss away the weapon entirely to prevent the other from owning it. The blade continued to be swung around wildly, with no regard to their surroundings.
As the blade went outwards in a random direction, it dove right into Kathryn's upper torso. Unknowingly to them, she had returned to the kitchen during their struggle. They released the knife immediately upon seeing her too late. She gasped, lost her footing, and fell backwards onto the kitchen floor. Valdi fled.
Jack dropped to his knees next to Kathryn. She placed her hand carefully around the wound, the buried blade in between her fingers. He held onto her while sitting her up, crippled by a lack of expertise for the situation. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth and tears streamed down her face. Sorrow dominated Jack's face as he stressed to keep her from dying in his arms.
"I'm sorry... this is all my fault. I’m sorry," Jack pleaded.
"Sweet Jack, don't let them take your heart," Kathryn said as her eyes struggled to keep open. Then, her eyelids floated shut. Jack laid her down and slipped his arms out from under her.
The gas had leaked across the kitchen and into the dining area by the time Jack ran out the building entrance. Backing his vehicle to the road, Valdi rolled his window down and pointed the barrel of a handgun in Jack’s direction.
The first foot out of a sprint was all Jack made when a round was discharged from the firearm. The bullet streaked across the lot, through a front café window, and into the kitchen. A ball of fire expanded from the café as the shockwave threw Jack to the gravel lot. Pieces of wood splintered outward as glass, dust and gravel flew from the foundation. Jack landed on his knees before falling forward on his hands.
Jack watched the black Mercedes exit the area and continue down the road of the bluff. His breathing, uneven, became difficult to maintain under distress.