This was going to be novel length, but due to time constraints and a trip to England/France (aka not being able to finish it) I've just taken the first bit of it and made it a short story, and even now I'm not satisfied with it, since I'd rewritten this bit... Oh well, next year I'll enter it as novel length. 
Or actually write one before the competition starts. Heh.
Rating: 14A...in between PG-13 and R, in Canadian-speak. 
For language and violence
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A Night On the Town
The club music blared in the background, drowning out the conversation. Not that much conversation was going on regardless. Most people in the crowd were caught up in dancing, stumbling into each other and clutching and looking for the most part as if they were caught up in a mass orgy. If that could be called dancing.
Off to the side, in a single dirty, stained booth, a man sat down and stared resignedly into his drink.
His ebony hair hung low over his eyes, giving him the look of a closet drug addict. His skin was taught and sallow on his cheeks, a byproduct of lack of food. In his hand he held a knife, which he was twirling unenthusiastically.
Soon he was approached by a group of men, each wearing a suit and no doubt hiding a pistol under their jacket. Three? I was expecting more.
They stepped up to the table, the shortest of them sitting down across from him. Both were silent for a moment; the smaller man was studying, watching him. He merely continued to twirl his knife and drum a tempo on the tabletop with his fingers. Once or twice he would retract the blade of the weapon, then twirl it once more.
"You know you're going to die."
He smiled. Always straight to the point. "Yes."
"Then why are you still sitting here?"
He looked up, finally meeting the gaze of the smaller man. The man flinched, seeing something in his eyes that disturbed him. The look of a person who wanted nothing more than to kill him, to get the murder over and done with.
"Because it isn’t you that’s going to kill me," he said, his voice low and cold, though the smile didn't leave his face.
"You are going to die tonight. You could have at least spared the crowd their own death. They will be, no doubt, caught in the crossfire."
"You think I care about them?" He spotted the other two cronies reaching for their waistbands, for their waiting pistols. "Oh, so soon? I was expecting to beat around the bush for another ten minutes or so."
"Lets make this quick, then."
He laughed. "Confident, aren't you?"
"Very. We outnumber you."
"Ah. That you do." Spinning the knife around his index finger a few times, he plunged it hard into the wood of the table. Only after letting the three look at it for a moment did he let go and sit back, the expression on his face one of amusement. The leader growled in annoyance.
"Always cocky, aren't you Trent?"
He smiled again and clasped his hands behind his head. "I have nothing to worry about."
"We have ten other men out there on the dance floor," the man stated, pointing towards the crowd. Icy blue eyes flickered towards them, a shadow of distress flitting across his face for a half-second. Long enough for the man to see it. "So lets go out into the back alley, away from these people. Saves us the trouble of more than one body to get rid of."
"No."
The man frowned deeply, glaring at Kurtis. "Fine."
Instantly he was on his feet, flipping the table to the side and aiming his gun at Kurtis's head. He didn't have enough time to pull the trigger, as Kurtis had descended into the crowd even as the table was falling. Cursing, the man waved to his cronies and followed.
A hail of bullets came out from the crowd, striking one of the accompanying men in the chest. Most of the civilians parted, screaming and ducking for cover. The others continued dancing, not able to hear the gunfire.
Kurtis, having fired as he dived to the side, came to his feet and reloaded his modified Beretta. One of the attackers came up behind him, gun in hand. He whirled around, flipping the gun in his hand, and slammed the butt of the pistol against the man's forehead. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he collapsed. The leader watched from the edge of the dance floor as Kurtis took out two more men. He waved to the other six to close in.
Before they could, however, more shots were fired in their direction, this time not from Kurtis. No one turned to investigate the disturbance, instead coming at Kurtis, guns outstretched. He summoned his knife from the table and it whizzed through the air before coming to rest in his hand.
Challengingly he waved a hand, beckoning the men closer. They each ran at him as one. He ducked under one of their arms and buried his blade in their side, then pulled it away, spun, and sliced at the chest of another. Both fell. The others retreated, regrouping for another attack as the oblivious crowd continued dancing.
"Trent! You won't get away!"
Kurtis kneeled down, out of sight, grinning coldly. Like hell I won't.
Just then he felt himself getting grabbed from behind, the arm encircling his neck and pulling him to his feet. He struggled, trying to pull away before the man could do anything.
A shot rang out from in front of him, hitting the forehead of the assailant. Kurtis pulled out of the man's arms, confused. Soon he could see a woman, a single H&K held in her grip, appear through the crowd. She spun the gun around her finger and holstered it, a smile on her face. She lowered her sunglasses and winked at Kurtis.
He grinned. "We need to stop meeting like this!"
She shrugged and walked forward, pushing through the mass of bodies as they threw themselves at and around her. "You always seem to get yourself into trouble, it's natural that I have to come bail you out!" she yelled to him. Kurtis laughed and picked up his Beretta, turning so that their backs were against each other. Each was alert, waiting for the impending attack.
"Come on, La'Coure, give me your worst!" he shouted towards the leader. La'Coure glared, then ran into the crowd himself, shooting erratically. Most of the shots hit civilians, going wide around Kurtis and missing by meters. He could feel Lara tense behind him, angry.
"The fucking bastard isn't even aiming," she snarled, drawing her other pistol. Kurtis put up a hand to stop her and lifted his own gun.
"This kill belongs to me," he mumbled, closing one eye and squeezing the trigger.
The bullet sailed through the air and struck La'Coure straight in the forehead. He looked shocked for a moment before his knees buckled and he fell, hitting the ground in front of them. Kurtis nodded, satisfied with the kill, and turned to Lara.
"Lets get the hell out of here."
* * *
"Status report?"
The guard sighed inwardly and raised the walkie-talkie to his mouth. "As I've said for the past three hours, everything is still fine."
"Let us know if anything comes up. Any disturbances."
He flicked the power off, shaking his head. There was never anything up. The Paris metro was always quiet at night, whether or not any festivals were going on. The worst he ever saw was a homeless man get pushed around by a few drunk kids, and that could hardly be called a disturbance.
The 2 A.M. train pulled to a stop. He waved at the operator as he walked by, whistling quietly. The tune echoed through the tunnels as the sound of the train faded away with a small trill to signal its departure.
He stopped and leaned against a stone pillar, his arms crossed. The early morning shift. The worst shift of them all. Boring.
Soon he noticed a sound growing louder. It didn't sound like the trains; and besides, the train had already come and gone not five minutes ago. The next one wasn't due to arrive for another minute or so.
The bum that was laying on the ground across from him had perked up as well, not used to the new sound. He looked towards the guard and asked what it was.
"I'm not sure. Perhaps I'll go have a look," he said, taking his flashlight from his belt and shining it in the direction of the staircases that led to the station above. Nothing permeated the darkness, but the sound remained, growing steadily louder. "The hell-?"
He was near blinded as the headlights appeared at the top of the staircase, shining down into the tunnels. The sound was now identifiable as a motorbike, making its way towards him. He ran towards it.
"You can't drive that down here!" he yelled over the noise of the engine. The bike continued down the stairs, shooting past him in a flash. He could barely catch sight of the woman seated on the back, blowing him a kiss, and then it had wheeled around a corner and disappeared down the walkway. He chased after it, fumbling to turn on his walkie-talkie and shouting a few words into the voice box. The reply was drowned out by the noise of, not only the motorbike, but the approaching train as well. Shit. The train.
"Stop!" he shouted, realizing their plan. "Stop! You won't make it!"
The girl turned to look over her shoulder at him and gave a little wave before they drove straight off the walkway, down onto the track. The train, halting opened and closed it's doors, then continued. He waved his arms frantically towards the operator, who took no notice.
Down on the track, Kurtis squeezed the TST's throttle, attempting to keep ahead of the approaching train. Lara looked back at it, then snarled in Kurtis’s ear “You’re going too slow. Speed up.” He nodded, leaning forward as the train grew closer. They needed to get out of the way, he knew that.
Up ahead he could see the tunnel split off to the right. A small pole, with two red lights at the top, indicated which direction the train was to go. At present, neither was on. Kurtis squeezed the handlebars tighter, his eyes narrowed, the air catching in his throat. It would be a split-second decision.
We'll make it.
The train's headlights caught sight of the bike, but the operator still didn't see them. He was more intently focused on the control panel in front of him, trying to remember which route he was supposed to take. His fingers hovered above the two buttons that would change the track and indicator lights. After a quick glance at the map, he pressed the left button, and only then looked up. A gasp escaped his lips as he spotted the TST speeding ahead of him.
"Kurtis!" Lara exclaimed, glancing back at the train that was near enough to touch.
"We'll make it!" he yelled.
Red light sparked to life on the left indicator. Kurtis, barely five meters from the fork, yanked the bike to the right just as the train went past in a wave of sound. He hit the brake and the bike skidded to a stop.
Lara got off the TST and stretched, then nodded down at him. "You did well," she stated. "Though I never doubted you, naturally."
"Sure you didn't."
She smiled as she turned away from him, checking her watch. "The next train will be along in two minutes. It will probably take this corridor."
"So we should get going," Kurtis finished for her, sliding back on the bike's seat. "You drive this time?"
"Of course," she replied, stepping back up to the bike and taking the front of the seat. Kurtis gripped her waist as she started the engine, but she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder first, smiling.
“By the way…nice shot.”
