Gunshots echoed through the forests, quickly absorbed by the trees surrounding the cottage. Chris emptied the clip of the MP5 into a tree, the bullets nearly slicing the tree in two. The weapon definitely had more power than a regular MP5, but he wouldn't know how much more power until he tested it on a bullet-proof window.

Another shot echoed through the forest and Chris looked down at Shelley, who was lying on a mat, the sniper rifle's scope up to her eye. Chris looked at the painted target he had attached to a tree on the edge of the forest, but no new bullet holes appeared. While Shelley was learning quickly, she still had a long way to go before becoming a sharp shooter. Only one in every four or five bullets hit the target and none were that close to the bull's-eye. She looked up at him and grimaced.

"You're getting better," Chris assured her. He held out a hand and helped her to her feet.

"It sure hurts the shoulder," Shelley said, rubbing where the gun's stock recoiled into her bones.

"You'll get used to it and you'll find ways to reduce the amount of recoil." He glanced at his watch. "Half an hour left. Brewzer won't come early; he likes to be fashionably late. Better get ready, though."

He led Shelley inside the cottage and up to the second floor. Near the spare bedroom, he pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling and a staircase lowered to the floor. He climbed up and into a small, dark attic that was empty and devoid of life. He walked to the single window looking out over the front lawn and road and opened it.

"You'll be sitting here," he said. "You can place the rifle on the windowsill for stability but I don't want you firing unless you have a clean shot. There's no point in letting Brewzer know I have backup." However small that backup is, he thought. "You can watch over me, since I'll be in the front yard, waiting for Brewzer."

"I'll be your guardian angel," Shelley said. She held up her hand and showed him the ring he had given her, its diamond glittering coldly in the dim light. Chris smiled and took her hand, kissing it softly. They embraced, holding each other closely. Chris didn't want to let go.

"I'm glad," he whispered in her ear, "that I'm not in this alone. Thank you for helping me, for healing me...for just being there."

"You'll never be alone again," Shelley replied. "Thank you for protecting me."

They kissed.

When Chris pulled away, he did so reluctantly. "Let's end this," he said.

~*~

Chris leaned against the back of his Jeep, the MP5 held negligently in one hand. His coat was half-zipped to allow quick access to his pistol, but at the cost of the wind sneaking inside and chilling his bones. The wind kept him awake, however.

A snowflake rode the currents of wind past Chris's face and he watched it sail by. A good omen? he wondered. He reached out and caught the flake and it quickly melted in his warm hand. Another one floated from the heavens soon followed by more and more. The wind died down and the snowflakes began falling straight for the earth. He watched them much like a child does when seeing the wonder of nature.

In the distance, but closing fast, he heard the sound of an engine. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and looked to the cottage, at the attic window. He gave a thumbs-up and saw a flicker of movement from the shadows. Shelley had seen him and understood: Brewzer was on his way.

Chris wiped his hand across his forehead, removing the perspiration that had begun to moisten his skin. His hair was beginning to grow damp with sweat and the falling snow. He blew out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and gripped his gun in both hands. He was nervous since he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible but the price of failure was high: If he died, Shelley would die as well. If he succeeded, however, he would have to say goodbye to his double-life and his darker side. He felt like he was losing a piece of his soul.

Suddenly he understood why Van had never retired, why he continued to kill even though he was rarely hired: it was the only life he had ever known. If he quit now, he might regret it forever.

Sunlight gleamed off of metal down the road and scattered Chris's thoughts. Brewzer was fast approaching and if he didn't pour all of his concentration into this final battle then he would definitely lose.

Chris walked out to the middle of the road and fell to one knee, raising his MP5 to his shoulder and taking aim at the approaching SUV. He nervously tugged at the electrical tape holding the loose wires along the gun's barrel until he could see two figures sitting behind the bullet-proof windshield. The larger of the two was sitting behind the wheel.

Brewzer.

Chris counted to ten, waited for the SUV to draw closer. When he reached seven he saw Brewzer open his window and reach out with one hand, a .45 in his fist. Before he could open fire, Chris squeezed the trigger on the MP5 and began to aerate the hood with bullets.

Bullets tore through the sheet metal with a high-pitched shriek, shooting out sparks and smoke and steam from the engine. The trail of bullet holes traveled up the hood and into the window. Cracks formed along the window's base and Chris saw one punch through into the vehicle. Brewzer twisted the wheel and the SUV swerved crazily away from Chris but he continued to squeeze the trigger.

The smaller man in the car bucked as a bullet ripped through his shoulder in a fountain of crimson. Over the sound of the gunfire and the laboring SUV's engine, Chris could hear him scream.

The SUV rushed past Chris, its tires squealing on the snow-drifted road as Brewzer slammed on the brakes. A bullet blew out one of the read tires, pulling the vehicle to the side of the road. Desperately, Brewzer twisted the wheel and the car jackknifed until it finally came to a stop, its front facing Chris.

The doors flew open and Brewzer tumbled out from the driver's side. From the passenger's side, a man in a rumpled and blood-stained business suit fell, hitting the snow hard with a groan. Flames shot out of the holes and cracks in the hood, swiftly burning off the brown paint and consuming everything they touched.

The MP5 clicked empty and Chris slowly rose to his feet. He held the weapon in one hand and inspected it. The electrical tape had come apart and a rat's nest of wires had escaped. The battery he had strapped under the barrel had run out of juice and was worthless now. Without a second thought, he tossed the gun to the ground and let it skitter across the ice- slicked pavement towards the flaming wreck of the car.

Brewzer stood up and casually wiped himself off, as if he didn't have a care in the world. He glared at Chris with his one good eye and reached under his jacket, producing a pistol. It was a .45, much like Chris's and it was etched with birds in flight. Even from this distance, Chris could make out what type of birds they were.

Vultures.

Chris reached under his jacket and drew his .45 as well. He casually checked the clip and inspected the weapon as Brewzer strolled towards him, the burning vehicle behind him lighting up his features in the dying afternoon light. He stopped within six feet of Chris.

"What was that?" he asked, gesturing to the MP5 on the ground with his pistol.

"Isn't that why you're here?" Chris asked. He looked around Brewzer and saw the man in the business suit crawling away from the flaming heap of twisted metal. "I think that's why he's here," Chris corrected, pointing at the man.

"That's our employer. And that gun must be his." Brewzer grinned viciously. "However, since I've already been paid I think I'll take that gun as a bonus...and I'll kill Mr. Black as well."

"He's the only one who knows about the gun?"

"Or so he claims."

Chris glanced at the .45 in Brewzer's hand. "Can't you do anything original?"

Brewzer's grin broadened and Chris itched to blow away that face forever. Something stayed his hand, however. His eyes flickered towards the attic for the briefest of moments. Shelley had to have had a good target now.

"I had a friend make this," Brewzer said, holding the gun up. "Since you'll be dead in a few minutes, I thought I'd take over your business. No hard feelings."

Chris jammed his pistol up into Brewzer's neck. Brewzer placed his pistol against Chris's temple. Both men stared at each other with burning hate in their eyes.

"A standoff," Chris muttered. "How about we settle this like men?"

Brewzer seemed intrigued at the thought. "A fight to the finish. As it should be. But what of the guns?"

"You know my code of honor. I'll drop my gun as long as you drop yours."

"Your stupid rules," Brewzer said with a chuckle. "All right then. Let's do this." Brewzer took his gun away from Chris's head at the same moment Chris pulled his away from Brewzer's neck. Both men turned to drop their guns on the ground, but Chris hesitated. Brewzer dropped his.

Chris swung his pistol back towards Brewzer and pulled the trigger. A bullet exploded from the chamber and into Brewzer's side with a shower of gore that sprayed Chris. Brewzer slapped the gun from Chris's hand and cocked his other arm back to deliver a devastating blow.

"There is no honor among thieves!" Chris yelled, already dodging the punch.

At that moment, the fire reached the SUV's fuel tank and heated the metal. The trapped fumes exploded outward with a bang and a fireball, throwing chunks of burning and twisted metal in every direction. The blast knocked Chris flat on his back and Brewzer was lifted into the air, his coat on fire. Over the sound of the roaring flames and the screams of pain and surprise -- which he later realized came from his own mouth -- he could clearly hear a gunshot.

Shelley had taken her shot a few seconds too late.

Brewzer hit the ground and rolled, throwing off his jacket as he climbed to his feet. "Got backup, huh?" he yelled at Chris. "Is it that little pretty you've been dating? Good! You've just saved me the trouble of hunting her down!"

Chris yelled and climbed to his feet as Brewzer rushed towards him. They collided when Chris was only halfway to his feet and rolled over each other through the scattered bits of burning debris. Chris caught sight of his .45 and threw an arm out to grab it but was too late. His fingers touched the barrel and he could feel the ravens etched in the metal but he couldn't get a grip on it.

When the two men managed to disentangle themselves from each other, Chris unzipped his jacket and threw it off hastily. The extra ammo stored in the pockets would weigh him down and it would only hamper his fighting abilities.

Another gunshot from the cottage attic echoed throughout the forest and a bullet ricocheted off the road between Brewzer and Chris in a shower of sparks. Chris took an involuntary step back, staring at the spot where the bullet had landed. Maybe giving Shelley a gun had been a bad idea...

Brewzer grabbed Chris by the shirt and tossed him over his shoulder, towards the Jeep. Chris twisted in mid-air and managed to land on his feet with only a few minor complaints from his still-healing wounds. He slid backwards for a few feet and came to a stop in a crouch, one hand on the ground for support, his other hand held away from his body for balance.

"The judges score you a ten," Brewzer said as he ran behind the Jeep, out of Shelley's line of sight. "Meet your end, acrobat!" He threw an arm at Chris, which was easily dodged. The arm smashed into the Jeep, denting the sheet metal and shaking the entire vehicle. Chris heard the snap of a bone in Brewzer's hand but Brewzer didn't even flinch. He was still on those pain-killers, ELF.

Chris brought his heel down on Brewzer's knee and produced no visible effect. Desperate, he threw both of his fists at Brewzer's neck and connected. Brewzer coughed and grabbed Chris's wrists in one huge hand. He pulled Chris towards him and threw out his knee, smashing it into Chris's gut. Chris cried out in pain and twisted away from Brewzer, stumbling away from the Jeep, trying to get back onto the road where Shelley could help him.

Brewzer grabbed the back of Chris's shirt and dragged him back behind the Jeep. Half-expecting this, Chris threw himself backwards and the extra momentum pushed Brewzer against the Jeep, his head rebounding against the driver's side window and shattering the glass. Slightly dazed, he released Chris, who stumbled back into the middle of the road.

Chris cast a glance at the attic and saw Shelley leaning out, her rifle in both hands. When she saw Chris, she waved, probably thinking he had won the fight. Chris motioned for her to aim the gun and keep ready. She nodded and brought the scope to her eye.

Brewzer leaned against the Jeep, moaning and holding the back of his head. Slowly, he turned around and put his back to Chris, where Chris saw chunks of glass still in his scalp, red with blood. A bloodstain soaked the back of his shirt as well, and for a moment Chris wondered if Shelley had actually hit him. He remembered the fight in the office building, when he had fought Brewzer on the tenth floor, when Shelley had used Chris's gun to shoot Brewzer. Obviously Brewzer hadn't taken the time to stitch the wound; he probably hadn't even removed the bullet, thinking himself invincible.

"C'mon, vulture!" Chris yelled at the dazed man. He held out his arms, tried to make himself look like a target to provoke Brewzer into attacking, to get him into the open. "I promise this will be quick! Hit me with all you've got!"

Brewzer wasn't listening. He was looking into the Jeep, his features locked in anger. Chris didn't understand what the vulture was doing until he heard a soft mewling sound from inside of the vehicle. Chris's eyes widened in realization: In the excitement of preparing for the battle, he had forgotten about Switchblade, who was still in the Jeep.

Frantically, Brewzer clawed at the door's handle and tried to get inside the Jeep to get the cat. Chris leapt at Brewzer's back and wrapped an arm around his throat. With all of the strength he could muster, he tried to pull Brewzer away from the car but Brewzer threw him off like he was a child. Chris hit the ground and swiftly climbed to his feet.

Chris sorted through his mind and tried to come up with a plan to save his pet. While most people would have abandoned the cat and saved themselves, Switchblade was Chris's best friend and they had been through a lot to together. There was no way he was going to let Brewzer get his hands on Switchblade.

Chris saw the two .45s on the ground, ten feet from where he stood. By the time he retrieved one, it would already be too late and Switchblade would more than likely be dead. Panicked, he watched as Brewzer threw out a clumsy hand to try and grab Switchblade but the cat dodged and scratched at the hand, issuing a cry of frustration from Brewzer.

Chris tried to sort through his thoughts and he heard himself in the Jeep days before, as he reloaded his pistol and spoke to Shelley while Brewzer chased them in his SUV. "There's a chink in every armor," he had said. "Nothing is impenetrable, nothing is perfect and because of that no one lives forever."

With a savage war cry, Chris threw himself at Brewzer again and aimed a punch at the bloodstain on the back of the larger man's shirt. From the position of the bloodstain, it was almost directly opposite of Brewzer's heart. Fervently, Chris hoped the bullet was still inside the man.

His knuckles dug into the wound and were instantly covered in crimson liquid. Brewzer yelped in pain and surprise and Chris knew he had found the weak spot in the vulture's armor. Brewzer continued to pursue the cat, however, so Chris pounded at the wound with all the force he could muster.

Brewzer reached towards the cat and finally managed to grab a handful of fur on the back of Switchblade's neck. With a laugh, he pulled the cat towards him. Switchblade yowled in protest and dug his claws into the seat. Brewzer continued to drag him forward, however.

Chris punched Brewzer in the back again and again. He was beginning to think that maybe Brewzer had been smart for a change and removed the bullet. He cocked his arm back and yelled in savage fury as he punched one more time with enough force to rival one of Brewzer's own punches.

Brewzer stiffened and gasped in pain. He let go of Switchblade and stumbled away from the Jeep but not far enough to be a suitable target for Shelley. Chris stepped away from the man and readied himself for another attack but Brewzer only stood there, his mouth open, his one eye opened wide. He stared at Chris in astonishment and tried to speak, but instead of words, blood poured out of his mouth.

The bullet that was inside of Brewzer had worked its way forward, not into his heart like Chris had hoped but into his lung. He took a slow step backward, and then fell flat onto his back.

Chris leaned against the Jeep and stared at Brewzer for a long moment. With a snarl of disgust, he watched as the vulture's chest moved up and down while he laboriously breathed. Chris stumbled away, back towards the still-flaming wreckage of the SUV. He scooped up both of the .45s and stumbled back to the dying man.

He stood over Brewzer and watched as the vulture coughed and fleck his lips with blood.

"Damn cat," Brewzer whispered. "I knew it would be the death of me." He swiveled his one eye towards Chris and sneered. "Raven, I'm not dead yet. You can't kill me. I'll come back and I'll take Sunset City as my own." His laugh turned into a ragged, tearing coughing. "I don't even feel any pain. I just feel cold. So, you see, I'm invincible!"

Chris clicked back both of the hammers on the .45 pistols and pointed them down at Brewzer. He glared coldly down at the man and just before squeezing the triggers, he smiled.

He pumped the triggers over and over again, spewing metal death from each pistol. The muzzle flash nearly blinded Chris but he persevered and watched as each bullet punctured Brewzer's flesh in a fountain of gore, causing the vulture to buck wildly with each hit. Copper bullet casings flew through the air and tinkled musically on the pavement, but their sound was lost in the constant bang of gunfire. Eventually, the hammers clicked empty and Chris threw down the guns on the bloody mass that had once been one of Sunset City's deadliest assassins.

Chris felt drained, both physically and mentally. He couldn't think straight. He staggered away from the corpse and headed for the cooling wreckage of the SUV, not sure where he was going. He heard a mewling sound and looked back at the Jeep, where Switchblade looked out at him. He shook his head and continued to stumble down the road.

He looked up at the cottage and saw Shelley in the attic, her rifle's scope trained on him. He stared at her in confusion. Why wasn't she down here with him? Why watch him with the scope when she could see him fine from the attic? He cocked his head to one side at the same time he heard the gunshot and saw the muzzle flash from the rifle.

A bullet tore through the air and screamed inches past Chris's head. He spun away and caught sight of the man in the bloody business suit -- Mr. Black -- behind him, a .22 pistol in his hands. Shelley's bullet had taken him in the chest and went right through him. He stared at Chris with pleading eyes and dropped the pistol with a clatter.

"Raven," he wheezed. He swayed but managed to remain standing. "You'll get yours..."

"This is one assassin you shouldn't have hired, Black," Chris said. "Say hi to Robertson for me."

Mr. Black crumpled into a heap, dead.

Chris looked back at the attic, but Shelley was no longer there. The front door burst open and she ran out to him, her arms open wide. She collided with him and they kissed passionately, fiercely, neither one daring to let go of the other. When their lips finally parted, Chris whispered in her ear.

"I'm going to keep on killing," he said, his voice hoarse.

"I'll join you," Shelley replied.

They kissed again.

~*~

One month later...

Rin stepped away from the large-screen television in her living room and nearly tripped over one of the cardboard boxes littering the floor. She kicked the box away and placed her hands on her hips, nodding in appreciation at the huge TV, the DVD player and the surround sound system that she had recently installed with the bonus she had received from delivering the briefcase. That had seemed so long ago.

She looked at the remote control in her hand and tried to determine which button did what. She had never been one to understand technology and she had a hard enough time trying to put the thing together. Getting it to work, however, was something completely different.

Just as she was about to push a button on the remote, the doorbell to her small mid-city home rang and she sighed. It never fails, she thought. Someone always interrupts during the important things in life. Irritably, she set down the remote and stomped towards the door.

She passed the mirror in the hallway and paused to adjust her thin hair. She had never been a good-looking woman, this she knew, but after the next few jobs she would have saved enough money to get plastic surgery and then she could net all the men she could ever want. She relished the thought.

The reached the door and opened it without a moment's hesitation. Beyond the threshold was a man who looked like he could blend into a crowd and disappear. He wore a black jacket, had medium-length black hair and dark blue eyes. Rin gasped in surprise when she saw him, smiling at her casually, confidently.

"Raven," she said, putting a hand to her mouth. "You're still alive?"

"Rin," Raven replied. He raised one hand and placed his signature .45 against her forehead. "Remember about a month ago when you used me to kill assassins for you so you could earn more money? Remember that?"

Rin nodded, her eyes flickering towards the locked closet where she secreted her guns. There was no way she could get to one weapon, even if she managed to knock Raven down or something to that effect. She simply stared down the barrel of his .45, imagining she could see a bullet deep in its shadowy depths.

"Of course you remember," Raven continued. "I have to thank you for not killing me that day. You said something then that will stay with me forever: I can make history by killing the one person that brought us all here. Do you remember my reply?"

Rin slowly shook her head. She swallowed hard.

"I said I'd kill you first." Raven's smile disappeared. "And here I am. I'm not a tool to be used." With that, he pulled the trigger and threw Rin back into the house. He holstered his pistol and closed the door to the home. He doubted anyone would find the corpse for a few days and even then there was no evidence he had been there.

He bent over and scooped up the empty shell casing and thrust it in his pocket. Casually, he strolled away from the house and back to a cherry red Jeep TJ parked at the curb. Gunshots were frequent in the center of the city and the cops would be slow to respond to the call. Being the heart of gang territory, few mid-city residents remembered any details about crimes, fearing they would be killed themselves.

Chris opened the Jeep's passenger side door and hopped into the vehicle. He holstered his gun under his coat and buckled his safety belt. Finished, he looked over at the driver, a beautiful red-haired woman who smiled at him warmly.

"Let's head home, Shelley," he said. "I think we can find more pleasant diversions this night."

"Right away, Raven," she said with a melodious giggle.

"Pedal to the metal, Bluebird," he said, calling her by her street alias.

The Jeep accelerated and rode off in the dying afternoon light.

~*~

THE END

~*~

A/N: I just want to thank all of my readers for doing what they do best: reading. I have the nicest readers on the site, I think. I'm thinking of maybe writing a spin-off story based in Sunset City but I'm not sure yet. Of course Chris would make an appearance, since he's just so ? Anyway, thank you for reading and, for the final time, please review.