A/N: Alright, if you've ever seen the Bourne Identity before, this story has a smiliarites. Michael Vaughn works for the government, he's an assasin AKA: a hitman. Sydney Bristow is a truama surgeon from LA who is visiting her family in West Vrigina.
Vaughn is on a mission, gets in trouble, and well...you'll just have to stay tuned for more...i'm not going to give everything away.
~Prolouge~
The air was quiet. Nothing could be heard from his spot on the mountain except his own steady breathing. He'd been there for over four days, watching the activity in the area. His job was assasination. He was supposed to kill Jacob McHugh. McHugh was responsible for the disapperance for the 300 pounds of explsives during the US occupation in the middle east. He'd sold it to the US in exchange for protection, and a place far away from civilization. He got it. The governement gave him a small cabin off a lake in West Viringa. It was just at the base of a mountain, the east, south and west walls were surrounded by the moutains steep slope, leaving only the front open for attack. It was the middle of winter, exactly four days before Chirstmas, and of course he'd be on a mission. But it didn't bother him, he had no family to spend it with. His father died when he was eight, and he never knew his mother, she died giving birth. He had distant family, but they weren't intersted in him.
He sat with his back agaisnt the large tree stump, a cigarette in his mouth as he waited for McHugh to get up. He was supposed to complete the assasination in three hours. The government didn't want a terrorist inside the US, so he was sent to take him out. Alot more went on in the government than many people knew about. He wasn't even supposed to know, but he did. He heard the sound of a door close, it echoed off the walls of the mountian and caused him to sit up. He picked up his binoculars and looked down to the cabin. McHugh stood outside, releaving himself on a tree. Michael Vaughn shook his head and set his binoculars down.
"Crazy Bas****. You don't have any idea what's coming to you, do you?" He sighed and reached over to his bag, taking out his canteen, he opened the lid and took a long swig of cold water. He threw it back in his backpack and stood up. He had three hours to get down to the bottom of the mountain and complete his hit. He packed up his gear and threw his hicking bag over his shoulder. Picking up his rifle, he threw his cigerette on the ground and started to walk down the steep path to the bottom. By the time he finally got to the base of the mountain, it was already 11:00. Vaughn knew McHugh's schedule. He'd come outside to feed the dogs kept in the cages of the back of the house. It would be the perfect time to jump him. He took off his gear and took out his silenced 9mm pistol. He made sure there was no way that McHugh could spot him, and then he ran for it. He jumped over some logs and pressed his back to the east wall of McHugh's home. His pistol was in front of him, ready for action. He peaked around the back of the house to see the glass door wide open. He found it strange, and hesitated, trying to decide if he should check it out or not. He quietly snuck to the back door, making sure the dogs didn't hear him. He stuck his gun in the doorway as he stepped into the house. Everything was dark, but there was a pot of water boiling on the stove. He heard the floor creak behind him, and before he could turn around he was pushed forward. He immediatly leaped into action. Using the hot pot to his advantage, he grabbed the handle and turned around. McHugh was standing there with a wooden baseball bat. Vaughn threw the water in McHughs face. It burned and ate away at his skin, causing the flesh to bubble up. Vaughn went to grab his gun that he had dropped when he was pushed from behind. McHugh recovered quickly and swung the bat, hitting Vaughn in the back of the head. The last thing he saw was the floor.
He slowly opened his eyes when he felt someone fumbling with his feet. The first thing he saw was the gray sky, the snowflakes fell in his eyes and caused him to turn his head away. He looked down his body to see McHugh tying his feet to the back of a snowmobile. They weren't near the cabin anymore, instead they were out in the open.
"You think you can kill me so easily, American? You think you can outsmart Jacob, eh?" McHugh asked in his thick Irish accent. It was ironic really, he was Irish, but he was raised in the middle east. He was a terrorist, but he didn't beleive he was the bad guy.
Vaughn moaned, he softly touched the back of his head to feel the warm moist blood coating his hair. He looked up at McHugh.
"I know who you work for, they told me you were coming. They told me to kill you, and so that's what i'm doing."
"Who?" Vaughn asked with a cough. His throat was dry and his voice hoarse. McHugh tied the rope in a knot and looked down at Vaughn.
"Your friends." He said. Without anymore explanation he turned on the engine.
"You scared my face, you're paying for it now." He said. He pressed a button and the snowmobile started to move forward, dragging Vaughn behind it.
"I hope you know how to swim, Mr. Vaughn." McHugh said. A flash of surprise filled Vaughn's eyes as he realized what the snowmobile was riding on. He heard a crack and all of a sudden the ground broke beneath him. He immediatly felt like knives were stabbing him. The fridged lake water was freezing up his nerves and his mind. Before he was pulled under he looked at McHugh on last time, he was walking away, as if nothing happened.
"McHugh!" Vaughn yelled. He swallowed some water and quickly closed his mouth as the wieght of the snowmobile pulled him under. It took him two minutes, but he finally freed himself from the restraints and floated back to the hole in the surface of the ice. With all the strength left in his body, he pulled himself out of the water and laid in the snow, freezing to death. He didn't expect to make it, he didn't expect for anyone to find him.
Vaughn is on a mission, gets in trouble, and well...you'll just have to stay tuned for more...i'm not going to give everything away.
~Prolouge~
The air was quiet. Nothing could be heard from his spot on the mountain except his own steady breathing. He'd been there for over four days, watching the activity in the area. His job was assasination. He was supposed to kill Jacob McHugh. McHugh was responsible for the disapperance for the 300 pounds of explsives during the US occupation in the middle east. He'd sold it to the US in exchange for protection, and a place far away from civilization. He got it. The governement gave him a small cabin off a lake in West Viringa. It was just at the base of a mountain, the east, south and west walls were surrounded by the moutains steep slope, leaving only the front open for attack. It was the middle of winter, exactly four days before Chirstmas, and of course he'd be on a mission. But it didn't bother him, he had no family to spend it with. His father died when he was eight, and he never knew his mother, she died giving birth. He had distant family, but they weren't intersted in him.
He sat with his back agaisnt the large tree stump, a cigarette in his mouth as he waited for McHugh to get up. He was supposed to complete the assasination in three hours. The government didn't want a terrorist inside the US, so he was sent to take him out. Alot more went on in the government than many people knew about. He wasn't even supposed to know, but he did. He heard the sound of a door close, it echoed off the walls of the mountian and caused him to sit up. He picked up his binoculars and looked down to the cabin. McHugh stood outside, releaving himself on a tree. Michael Vaughn shook his head and set his binoculars down.
"Crazy Bas****. You don't have any idea what's coming to you, do you?" He sighed and reached over to his bag, taking out his canteen, he opened the lid and took a long swig of cold water. He threw it back in his backpack and stood up. He had three hours to get down to the bottom of the mountain and complete his hit. He packed up his gear and threw his hicking bag over his shoulder. Picking up his rifle, he threw his cigerette on the ground and started to walk down the steep path to the bottom. By the time he finally got to the base of the mountain, it was already 11:00. Vaughn knew McHugh's schedule. He'd come outside to feed the dogs kept in the cages of the back of the house. It would be the perfect time to jump him. He took off his gear and took out his silenced 9mm pistol. He made sure there was no way that McHugh could spot him, and then he ran for it. He jumped over some logs and pressed his back to the east wall of McHugh's home. His pistol was in front of him, ready for action. He peaked around the back of the house to see the glass door wide open. He found it strange, and hesitated, trying to decide if he should check it out or not. He quietly snuck to the back door, making sure the dogs didn't hear him. He stuck his gun in the doorway as he stepped into the house. Everything was dark, but there was a pot of water boiling on the stove. He heard the floor creak behind him, and before he could turn around he was pushed forward. He immediatly leaped into action. Using the hot pot to his advantage, he grabbed the handle and turned around. McHugh was standing there with a wooden baseball bat. Vaughn threw the water in McHughs face. It burned and ate away at his skin, causing the flesh to bubble up. Vaughn went to grab his gun that he had dropped when he was pushed from behind. McHugh recovered quickly and swung the bat, hitting Vaughn in the back of the head. The last thing he saw was the floor.
He slowly opened his eyes when he felt someone fumbling with his feet. The first thing he saw was the gray sky, the snowflakes fell in his eyes and caused him to turn his head away. He looked down his body to see McHugh tying his feet to the back of a snowmobile. They weren't near the cabin anymore, instead they were out in the open.
"You think you can kill me so easily, American? You think you can outsmart Jacob, eh?" McHugh asked in his thick Irish accent. It was ironic really, he was Irish, but he was raised in the middle east. He was a terrorist, but he didn't beleive he was the bad guy.
Vaughn moaned, he softly touched the back of his head to feel the warm moist blood coating his hair. He looked up at McHugh.
"I know who you work for, they told me you were coming. They told me to kill you, and so that's what i'm doing."
"Who?" Vaughn asked with a cough. His throat was dry and his voice hoarse. McHugh tied the rope in a knot and looked down at Vaughn.
"Your friends." He said. Without anymore explanation he turned on the engine.
"You scared my face, you're paying for it now." He said. He pressed a button and the snowmobile started to move forward, dragging Vaughn behind it.
"I hope you know how to swim, Mr. Vaughn." McHugh said. A flash of surprise filled Vaughn's eyes as he realized what the snowmobile was riding on. He heard a crack and all of a sudden the ground broke beneath him. He immediatly felt like knives were stabbing him. The fridged lake water was freezing up his nerves and his mind. Before he was pulled under he looked at McHugh on last time, he was walking away, as if nothing happened.
"McHugh!" Vaughn yelled. He swallowed some water and quickly closed his mouth as the wieght of the snowmobile pulled him under. It took him two minutes, but he finally freed himself from the restraints and floated back to the hole in the surface of the ice. With all the strength left in his body, he pulled himself out of the water and laid in the snow, freezing to death. He didn't expect to make it, he didn't expect for anyone to find him.
lease:
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