Page 85 of Girl, Unmasked
‘Ezra,’ Ella tried again.Almost to the stage now, close enough to see the crazed glitter of Ezra's eyes.‘We have Drago locked up in the cells.He thinkshedid this.If you carry on, you’re going to kill the man who saved you.’
He twisted the knife, and Kirsten let out a sob, tears cutting through what little remained of her foundation.Sirens dopplered in the near distance – Ella’s insurance in case this went south – but they might as well have been on Mars for all the good they'd do.
Ella's fingers itched on the trigger.She could take the shot.Probably.Maybe.But at this range, with Kirsten playing unwilling shield...no.Too risky.One twitch, one miscalculation, and she'd be explaining to the director why she'd turned a hostage situation into an impromptu execution.
Think, Dark.There had to be a way out of this that didn't end with blood on the floor and another notch on Ezra's angelic bedpost.
Her eyes darted around the theater, searching for anything she could use to tip the odds.
Ezra had positioned himself perfectly.Hunched behind Kirsten with her as his human shield.He towered over her by at least a foot, but he'd angled his body so that only the top of his head was visible above hers.Any shot would have to thread through a space no bigger than a playing card, with Kirsten's skull serving as the backstop if she missed by even an inch.At this range, with a hostage who kept sobbing and shifting, the shot was impossible.
But there there.
Hanging above the stage.
A projector, squat black and mounted on an old accordion rig.It was suspended right over Ezra and Kirsten's heads, held up by a web of fraying cables.
He towered over Kirsten by at least a foot, so it would be his head that took the impact. Hopefully, it would break the momentum enough to leave Kirsten injured but alive.
A plan began to form in Ella's mind.It was risky, borderline insane.The kind of Hail Mary play that got you either a commendation or a psych evaluation.But with Ezra's knife inching closer to Kirsten's jugular with every second, it was the only card left to play.
‘Okay, Ezra,’ Ella said, loud enough for the whole auditorium to hear.‘Why don't we just both put our weapons down and talk about this like adults?’
Ezra watched her, suspicious, but she could see his arm relaxing infinitesimally.
‘You first,’ he said.
‘Fine.’Ella began to lower her gun.‘See?I'm putting it down.Now it's your turn.’
Ezra's grin widened.‘You think I’m stupid?You think I’m going to…’
Then, quick as a viper striking, Ella brought her gun back up.But instead of aiming at Ezra, she pointed it at the ceiling.Her gun exploded three times and the auditorium erupted in a frenzy of screams, but Ella’s eyes never left her target, the bullet already in flight, screaming towards its destiny at 900 feet per second.
The rounds punched through the projector housing like it was tinfoil, ripping through delicate circuitry and sending a fountain of sparks geysering into the air.The whole apparatus lurched, teetered for a heartstopping second that seemed to stretch into a rubbery eternity.
Then, with a grating shriek of overstressed metal, the thing gave way.Ella saw the moment understanding dawned in Ezra's eyes.But it was too late.The projector plummeted like a black meteor of tubes and wires towards the stage.
And Ezra’s skull.
Ella saw it all in slow motion.The falling projector, Ezra’s last ditch attempt to protect himself by pushing Kirsten aside and cowering, the hundred-plus pounds of solid metal fury slamming into Ezra Borgman's skull and nearly knocking his head off his shoulders.The projector, the heavy duty rig and all the supports attached to it bounced off his head and sent Ezra Borgman reeling.
She had him.
Ella rushed the stage.Ezra was topping from side to side, clutching his head, still with a blade in his grip.Blood coursed down his face from a gash in his forehead and his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.
Time to get personal.
Ella didn't give him a chance to get his bearings.She sheathed her gun, then barreled into him with every ounce of fury she had left.The knife flew from his grip and skittered into the darkness beyond the footlights.Ezra sprawled beneath her, dazed and bleeding, and for a moment Ella's fists clenched.She wanted to beat him until her knuckles split, until every ounce of rage she felt for Sophie, Martina, and William had somewhere to go.
But then she thought of Austin Creed.Remembered sitting in that courtroom, watching him get sentenced to death, feeling that hollow victory settle in her chest.She'd helped put him on death row and it hadn't brought back any of his victims.It hadn't even made her feel better.
She could do it, but what would that make her?Ezra deserved it, but she’d just be another person dealing out pain because she could.
Let him rot in a cell for whatever time he had left.Let him watch his body fail him day by day with nothing but concrete walls for company.That was justice enough.
She lowered her fist.
It was over.The angel maker was grounded, permanently.No more halos, no more barbed wire, no more chapters written in blood.The curtain had come down on Ezra's magnum opus, and Ella was pretty damn sure there wouldn't be an encore.
