Fallen Son
Out of all the junkies and the hookers roaming the parking lot of his 'favorite' hotel, Alec could single out two shady figures, afro-americans, dressed in baggy clothes and covered in blings. One of them had trimmed hair and a stubble which barely covered his narrow jaw. Alec recognized him - it was Jamal's handler, the one who supplied the supplier. Their first meeting was back in 2011, while he was under the now deceased gun runners payroll. Alec never went past the formalities, never got his name and never cared enough to do so. However, now, that he stands before him, he was actually interested. Interested to know what was the issue that brought him there.
Upon getting out of his MRAP, a thought occurred in his mind, the thought that they were here to assassinate him as an act of retaliation for killing their man. The receptionist's paranoid behavior added more to his suspicion. Yet, he walked towards the duo with a steady pace, unwilling to reveal any sign of weakness. Jamal's gangbangers weren't smart enough to understand body language, but their strength lied in their numbers. Alec was willing to bet all his money that there was a battalion of them hiding in the hotel's lobby. In spite of his superb calculative skills, he still wanted to make sure he didn't misunderstand their motives.
"Hello gentlemen.", Alec uttered, approaching the two. He extended his hand in a false friendly manner, but they didn't budge. They were obviously there strictly for business. What they didn't know is that so was Alec.
"I take it you're the 'Hawk'.", Jamal's handler spoke in a crystal clear tone, dissimilar to the thick hood accent his acquaintance spat. He was obviously one of the higher-ups.
"So I heard.", Miller responded in his monotone voice.
"Well, Mr. Hawk, I'm here to give you bad news. You see, the runner you killed was secretly working under my organization's payroll. Actually, he played a key part in it. He was, to say, the right leg of my organization, and you severed that leg. Now, we're roaming around on wheelchairs. And while we're working to reclaim that leg, we thought it'd be a good idea to cut off the limbs of those you're working for. You know, an eye for an eye.", the OG finished. Alec wasn't misinterpreting anything; they were truly here to kill him, prompting the meta to formulate a quick plan.
"Sorry to disappoint, pal, but the organization I work for is large. By killing me, you've done nothing but pulled a strand of hair.", the meta threw in a cold, efficient response, and a true one while at that. He couldn't let the gangsters cast the first stone, which is why he quickly pulled out his gun without warning. The handler let out a surprised face, then had his brain matter all over the place shortly after. His companion, who was standing to the right, tried to pull out his piece, but Alec was quicker, managing to land a shot on his neck.
As soon as his sight caught the numerous gangbangers making their way out of the hotel's entrance, some even carrying tactical SWAT shields, Alec tapped into Cerebro; experimental, rapidly running to his vehicle as the .50 cal bullets whizzed past him. He jumped as much as he could, landing on top of the car's hood before sliding into cover. The Sand Cat was bulletproof, so he didn't have to worry about his shield being demolished. That being said, he still couldn't move out of cover or board the car, in fear of being riddled with bullets if he so much as tried to. His best option was to clear the area from the hostiles. He tapped into his Pentrative vision, able to see the enemy locations through the car without having the need to stick his head out of the hood. There were eight enemies, three of them carrying deployable shields. The moment one of them got out of cover to carry the lifeless body of his leader, Alec unloaded three bullets, two on his chest one in his head. There were still seven of them left, and the magazine he was carrying only had fifteen bullets. He was a sitting duck.
Much to Alec's surprise, after a stream of gunfire, the attacks ceased. Via his penetrative vision, he could make out his assailants gesturing around, trying to find a feasible way to put a bullet to the meta's head after their run n'gun strategy proved fruitless. They split up, four of them went to the right, while the other three took the left wing. This gave the former-soldier a chance to pull out his Walther from the car. He tapped into Cerebro; experimental yet again, so as to assemble the gun quicker, feeling the energy being drained from him with every movement. He had no choice - he could either go with certain death, or push the timetable for another three months or so, until more remnants from his past emerged out to haunt him.
The aging meta, upon assembling his Walther, peeked from the car's rear, taking a shot from a really close distance. The shot's force was marvelous, beheading two of the gang members in the process. The remaining two fired at Alec, but thanks to experimental mode - his ability to slow time down and boost himself up, he remained unscathed, able to effortlessly sneak up on them. He eliminated the first one by hitting him with the sniper's handle, sticking the barrel down his shirt and pulling the trigger down, his face covered in the assailant's blood minutes later. The second man, left with no mags for his assault rifle, pointed his pistol at Alec, with the latter swiftly disarming him from it and grabbing him from behind, now using the hitman as a human shield.
The three gunmen that were flanking from the left, all equipped with tactical shields, aimed their sub-machine weapons at Lighthouse but couldn't shoot in fear of harming their buddy. In the other hand, blood started dripping from Alec's nose as a result of overusing Experimental mode. He still had some energy left, and he decided to make the most of it. Easily snapping the assailant's neck then shoving him to the side, Miller tapped into Cerebro; experimental yet again. He grabbed the dead gangster's gun, unholstered his own, and then, in a fit of rage, began to unleash a barrage of bullets towards the well-equipped assassins as they dropped down until there was none left.
Now that the coast was clear, Alec dropped down to the ground, coughing and dripping blood from his orifices. His sight got blurry, his heart started beating twice as fast and his face got pale. He was drained, but he'd live. Even though the parking lot was clear, there was one loose end which he had to tie up. The receptionist. It was undoubtedly him who tipped off the OGs, and his betrayal wouldn't slip unpunished.
Alec entered the motel's premises, specifically the lobby, inaudibly cursing as he did so. He pointed his weapon at the gridiron and ordered the man to come out. But, much to his surprise, instead of complying, the man snuck a double barreled shotgun down the square opening, blasting Miller away but not before he could get three pistols shots on the overweight man's chest. He was then facing the ceiling, unable to lift his head or do any kind of motion. It marked the first time Alec ever had the chance to reflect about his life, to think about something other than work. At his final moments, he realized he wasn't ready to go, not because he feared death, or because he feared his death would go unrecognized - no, men like him have their ashes cremated and thrown into the sea. His main regret, among others, was that after all this time, he still couldn't make amends with his only family left, a little sister with which he shared fourteen years of age difference. She had no idea that her older brother was alive, told that he died somewhere in T'Bilisi, back in 2008. And she would never learn.
That didn't matter anymore, though. His sight, everything that was laying before him, it was slowly fading. His eyelids became heavier by the second, until - eventually - they closed.