#FINCH & MONTPARNASSE┊THREAD 01; UNLIKELY SAVIOR. ( yourlovingspy )

[fatherofmachine-a]

@yourlovingspy​​ |›PLOTTED STARTER

A DULL-SOUNDING clang  rang out as a thermal coffee carafe collided with the back of the man’s head—–it was the closest  thing at hand  &  Mr. Sherman had given Harold very little time  &  not much choice as,  he’d begun to reach for his firearm.  THANKFULLY,  dusk had begun to descend  &  there weren’t  many people around within this particular part of the city.  No cameras,  during a time where the area would almost be deserted  .... 

Steven Sherman seemed like a relatively ORDINARY person,  working at a department store handling the shipments of goods through airline,  train,  trucking  &  boat—–but he’d been using this travel  &  access to do very distressing  jobs for whomever would pay.  He eventually accumulated a close group of TRUSTED cohorts (  or,  as trusted  as one can get within organized crime )  &  eventually  they’d been contracted to build dirty bombs for terrorists.

EVAN PARIS had apparently stopped them,  having to KILL Mr. Sherman’s team members but unfortunately,  Sherman was left alive to hold a grudge.  As there wasn’t  a reasonable explanation for Mr. Paris to be connected to various AVERTED acts of terror as a system security analyst,  Harold had quickly begun to suspect  that Even Paris WAS NOT who he appeared to be.

He’d realized the social security number he’d received was an ALIAS shortly after looking into Mr. Paris’ finances.  Unless he’d decided to purchase human necessities purely  in cash he had stashed somewhere,  this identity WAS NOT a real one.

As the man crumpled  to the ground,  a GRIMACE  briefly flickered across Harold’s features whilst the hand clutching  the coffee thermal sunk to rest at his side.  Having moved as QUICKLY as his damaged body would allow,  Harold’s breath now escaped in somewhat heavy gasps as if he were WINDED.  Familiar sharp,  tingling pain had long-since settled into his lower back  &  left leg  &  NOW it was considerably more agitated.  His upper body,  in contrast,  was mostly engulfed in a vague,  dull ache which was MANAGEABLE,  but a little  sharper as he’d used a great deal of upper body strength.  Glancing upward,  dark brows lifting with emphasis as thin lips parted,  Harold’s voice drifted between them with a light undercurrent  of authority.

 ❝ Mr. Paris—–I’m afraid  we don’t have TIME for explanations at the moment,  but as I’m sure you can surmise,  somebody’s trying to KILL you.  I can help  you,  but for the time being—– ❞

Harold lowered his gaze,  moving to step OVER his victim  &  taking a couple limping  strides to set the coffee thermal down upon one of the outside tables.  Pausing to glance around them with a touch  of unease,  he continued,

 ❝ We should go.  ❞