Chapter Text
Prologue. 456
The sun was just beginning to set, Xabi could tell by the warm cast of light that filtered through the blinds of the window. He sat in his chair facing the door, sipping on a glass of scotch. He took a small mouth full, placing his tongue on the back of his teeth as he swallowed, his eyes narrowing but never losing sight of the door. The liquid felt good going down, the way he knew it would. He rarely drank, but this could be his last. Nothing tasted better to him than this scotch. He took another sip, careful to keep his eyes on the door, listening for footsteps coming nearer.
The apartment was spotless, everything set the way he wanted it; his books on the shelves, not a thing out of place. He didn’t want to leave a mess behind. He didn’t want to leave anything astray. He knew it wouldn’t be long now, and he would not delay the inevitable. He wouldn’t run. Xabi Alonso was a fighter, not a flyer. He would stand his ground. It was his decision, and he would stand behind it. He wouldn’t come crawling back now, no. He would fight for his life.
Xabi shifted in his chair, letting out a sigh. The gun in his right hand remained pointed at the door while his left was free, able to grasp at the glass of scotch. His watched beeped, letting him know the time. Eight PM. Xabi gnawed at his bottom lip, waiting. It wouldn’t be long now. They would be coming for him. He set his chair just right so that no sniper could get to him from any angle, knowing what to look for; they would have to use the door. Xabi didn’t know exactly who would be busting down his door, but that didn’t mean he was wrong about someone being sent for him. He knew the exact moment his name had been written down.
Xabi closed his eyes for only a moment, thinking of where his mistake had been, when he heard it: footsteps. Only one person’s. They stopped outside his door. Xabi took one last sip of scotch then took a breath as the doorknob turned, letting the door swing open.
He stared blankly at the figure before him, shocked. His lip quivered for only a moment before he pulled the trigger, a gasp escaping his lips as he watched Steven Gerrard fall to his knees in the doorway, his feet barely over the threshold.
“God, dammit.” Xabi cursed as he stood up and walked over to the reason there was a writ for his assassination. “How could they send you?”
Chapter One. 1456
Steven Gerrard was trained to kill.
He was trained to spend hours sitting and waiting, scoping the area for the nameless face that he was handed in a photograph along with an address. Sometimes he was the spotter, sometimes he was the sniper. Sometimes the kill was easy, sometimes they had to go undercover. No matter what, though, he got the job done. It was what let him sleep at night, knowing that he did his job well.
His job was not his life, though. His job was just that: a job. As soon as his sniper rifle was cleaned and stored away, he was just plain old Steven Gerrard. Steven Gerrard who liked his coffee black, the pub on game days, five a side matches in the park with friends, falling asleep while reading a book, and a certain guy that was always at his favorite fish n’ chip shop when he was.
Steven wasn’t thinking about his Tuesday night routine, the best fish n’ chips (he thought) in London. He wasn’t thinking about the man with a warm, friendly smile whose Tuesday night seemed like his. He wasn’t thinking about him because he was at work. A car door slammed and Jamie Carragher, his spotter and partner, just got in the car with their coffee. Steven’s eyes were barely open and his hands were freezing. Steven could see Jamie’s breath in the air as he huffed and pulled his scarf higher on his neck after he handed Steven his.
“It’s bloody fucking freezing, mate.” Jamie yammered as he licked his lips and blew on the warm beverage. Steven grunted in response as he sipped at his. The kill that they had for today should be hiding out in a hotel downtown. They were given a picture, the hotel, and the room number. Raul Meireles, their informer, scoped out the hotel across the street and booked a room for them under the code name of the hit: ‘Rooney’. “Thank God Meireles is fucking good at his job. I want to be in and out of there.”
“Got a date or some shite, Carra?” Steven chuckled as he turned the car on and headed downtown. Jamie sorted.
“I fucking wish, mate. I am just sick of these hotel room hits.” Jamie complained. “Would rather snipe someone as they were camping, or windsurfing-”
“Windsurfing? Really?” Steven asked, his eyebrows shooting upwards. It was too early for this shit. Jamie rolled his eyes.
“Or they could send us to Spain, Mexico. Someplace warm.” Steven nodded, thinking of warmth and sunshine. His thoughts shot to Tuesday guy. He heard his accent, once, as he picked up his order. He sounded Spanish, or something. He wasn’t sure. It had only been the one time. “Oi, Stevie, snap the fuck out of it mate.” Jamie said, bringing Steven back to the present and out of his own thoughts where he wished it was Tuesday. Unfortunately, or fortunately... depending on the way you looked at it, it was Monday.
*-*-*
Xabi Alonso despised Mondays. They were the bane of his existence. Monday meant meetings that were long and drawn out, where he had to sit and pay attention to assignments that weren’t his. Monday meant that he had to check in and give over the information that he gathered during the week.
Xabi was the first to arrive in Meeting Room A at Valdebebas Headquarters. He slapped his folder down on the table as he sat in the same chair he always chose, one that was parallel to the doorway. He had a few minutes before others would arrive and he used the time wisely. He opened his folder, looking over his report for the week. Xabi was an informer for Valdebebas and his current assignment was to tail Steven Gerrard, one of Melwood’s top assassins. Melwood was a rival of Valdebebas and as soon as the leak came through about the name of the notorious sniper, Xabi was slapped with the assignment: find out what Gerrard knows. Find out names, dates, places, codes. Both Valdebebas and Melwood were secretive, highly lethal companies that dealt with private hits and writs for assassination. Fortune 500 companies hired them, governments, the mafia, you name it and they used either Melwood or Valdebebas.
Xabi had been on assignment for only a few weeks, only tailing him from afar. Home address was easiest, breaking and entering. Searching through an apartment without leaving anything out of place, searching for documents of any sort that had to do with Melwood. All Xabi learned was that Steven liked take out and he used his paper shredder religiously. He frequented a certain Fish ‘n Chips place on Tuesdays, and usually went to the movies on Wednesdays.
Iker Casillas, Xabi’s boss, entered next with a tall cup of coffee and stubble on his chin. His tie was askew and his hair a mess. Xabi eyed him silently from where he sat. The meeting took forever. Hearing about an almost botched hit by Lass and Adebayor, how Higuain and Benzema had to come in and clean up after them was torture. The handing out of assignments took ages, and he was anxiously awaiting his turn.
“Alonso.” Iker finally addressed the informer. Xabi nodded, sliding a copy of his report towards his boss.
“Casillas.” He said, his voice crisp, light. Iker scanned quickly over Xabi’s report.
“You know, I gave you this assignment for a reason.” Iker said offhandedly as he sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. Xabi showed no sign of reaction to Iker’s words, he only waited for him to continue. “You are one of our best informers.”
“Thank you.” Xabi slipped in before Iker finished. Iker glanced at him for only a moment before his eyes went back to Xabi’s report.
“This information, the leak from Melwood, is a big deal. We need this to go well. We need information from him.”
“I understand.” Xabi said, his voice level.
“You are going to have to go undercover. Breaking and entering and following him is not going to get us what we need.” Xabi stayed silent. Iker waited for a response, but didn’t get one. If he was disappointed, it didn’t show. “You need to commit to this.”
As soon as the meeting ended Xabi gathered his things and rushed out, stopping by his desk for only a moment to drop off his folder before going into the bathroom and slamming the stall door shut. He locked it, then leaned his head against it. His fists were clenched and his eyes shut, his breathing staggered. He dug his hand into his pocket and withdrew his phone, hitting speed dial.
“Xabi?” Esteban Granero said over the receiver. “You never call during work.”
“I just need to fucking-” Xabi stopped for a minute to gather his thoughts, pausing until he was ready to continue. “Pirata I can’t do this.” He unlocked the door and walked over to the sink.
“Do what, exactly?” Esteban asked. Xabi leaned against the counter as he crossed his arms and cradled the phone against his shoulder.
“I can’t-”
“Right, yeah. Call me and be vague.”
“I have no one else.” Xabi whispered as he looked at himself in the mirror for only a moment before turning his back.
“You chose that line of work, Xab.” Esteban said, resigned. Xabi’s jaw clenched.
“We can’t all be starving artists, Pirata.”
“You know what, no. I am not dealing with you right now.” Esteban said as he hung up on Xabi.
“Fuck.” Xabi whispered as he dropped his phone onto the counter, his teeth grazing across his lower lip as he closed his eyes for a few moments. He let out a long, slow sigh then opened his eyes. He leaned over, turning the faucet on and letting the water wash over his hands as he looked in the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his reflection.
*-*-*
Steven splashed water on his face, then grabbed a towel and patted his face dry. A glass of bourbon was close at hand on the counter, he had set it there before the kill. He looked at himself in the mirror as he drank half of it in one go, his face contorting as it burned down his throat. He leaned on one hand against the counter as he put the glass down, then loosened his tie with the other. There was a knock at the door and Jamie’s head popped in as he opened it.
“Your sanity intact?” Jamie asked lightly, a smile across his face. Steven scoffed at him as he grasped the glass once more, finishing it off.