Chapter 20: The Plot Changes
Mathilda had no idea what was coming. That morning, like any other, her father, in a foul mood, slapped her across the right cheek and sent her out to buy groceries.
She covered her face, cursing this miserable existence in her mind—nothing ever changed, every day was the same hell.
That bastard of a father—if she ever got the chance, she'd kill him herself.
And that woman—Mathilda never considered her a real mother—and that stepsister who was always on some diet but never looked any better; indeed, that side of her family was completely toxic.
But when she got to the store, she realized she'd forgotten her money.
Another beating and screaming match was inevitable, she thought, deliberately slowing her pace as she walked back toward the apartment building.
But as she climbed the stairs, a loud bang startled her—gunfire. Her father had a gun, but he never let any of them near it.
The sound seemed to come from their apartment, and Mathilda quickened her pace. Although she despised most of her family, she loved her little brother.
But when she reached the door, she froze. Her stepsister had a gaping hole in her chest, blood splattered across the wall, a growing pool of red on the floor. She'd collapsed in the hallway like discarded trash.
Mathilda was terrified, tears welling in her eyes. She knew she couldn't stay at that door; she had to pretend to be a stranger passing by. The large man with the gun at the door was slowly raising it toward her. If she stood there any longer and drew suspicion, she'd be next!
But her feet wouldn't move. The dark muzzle pointed at her face felt like death itself calling to her, draining all her strength.
Just as she was about to break down, unexpectedly, her neighbor's door opened.
It was the guy from across the hall. She remembered his name was Jake—simple, American, solid. A protector... Mathilda had always fantasized that this young man with the serious demeanor could save her like a hero from the movies, even though she knew it was just fantasy, she couldn't help imagining it.
She'd fantasized like this every time after the violence at home, and the habit hadn't stopped even now.
He was only wearing athletic shorts, his lean muscles glistening with sweat; he must have been working out, probably drawn out by the gunshot.
He walked toward the armed men with his hands behind his back, a confused look on his face. "What's going on?"
"Hey! Kid!" The large man's gun instantly shifted from Mathilda's face to Jake. "This ain't your business, get back inside."
Jake seemed startled, appearing somewhat frightened, but his hands remained behind his back, as if hiding something. However, at this moment, no one except Mathilda noticed this detail.
"Yeah, of course," he nodded quickly. "But could you let my friend come with me?"
"Your friend?" The large man was clearly skeptical, keeping his gun raised while scrutinizing both of their faces.
"Uh," Jake coughed awkwardly, saying with slight embarrassment, "We're... close."
"Oh~" the man replied with a knowing "oh," his tone carrying a hint of crude understanding.
"Mathilda, come here!" Jake called out to her, startling her. She didn't know when he'd learned her name; had he overheard it somehow? That seemed unlikely. No one in her family ever called her by name; they just called her worse things...
But Mathilda obediently walked toward him; at least right now, he seemed safer than staying in the hallway...
"Thanks, we'll let you get back to work." Seeing Mathilda behind him, Jake breathed a sigh of relief, backing away to shield her as they moved toward the apartment.
Mathilda went very quiet after reaching Jake's back, because she saw the two black handguns.
Neither of these men were ordinary; the only thing she could do was hope this guy really was trying to help her and not harm her.
"Hold on a minute!" The large man gestured with his weapon. "What are you hiding back there?" He tilted his head, signaling for Jake to show his hands.
"Ah, it's nothing really," Jake instinctively raised his left eyebrow, then turned to Mathilda and said, "You head inside, I need to talk to this gentleman."
"Okay," Mathilda nodded, then quickly moved to Léon's door, hiding behind it, leaving just a crack to watch the two outside.
The large man ignored Mathilda; perhaps in his mind, a little girl couldn't possibly escape anyway.
Seeing Mathilda enter safely, Jake finally relaxed slightly. He took a step closer to the large man, who raised his gun higher. "Just show me your hands, nice and slow."
"Sure," Jake nodded casually. "I told you it's nothing." He slowly began bringing his hands forward from behind his back. As his arms moved, the man opposite him became very tense, his finger trembling on the trigger, ready to fire at the slightest wrong move.
Just as the man took a sharp breath, Jake swiftly brought his arms around, pointing both pistols at him. "Nothing much, just these," he said, firing without hesitation.
Upon seeing the weapons, the man instinctively fired as well, but Jake was prepared. He dropped into a crouch as he squeezed both triggers, the man's bullet grazing his hair and striking the wall behind him, leaving a shallow crater.
The man facing Jake wasn't so lucky. Two rounds struck his chest almost simultaneously—one center mass, one lung—dropping him instantly before he could even cry out. He collapsed to the ground, twitched twice, and went still.
"Told you not to ask," Jake muttered, glancing at the pistols in his hands and then at the man's lifeless stare.
"What the hell's going on out there?" a voice called from inside Mathilda's apartment.
Then came heavy footsteps and the distinct sound of a shotgun being racked.
"Guess I'm really changing the plot now." Looking at the body on the ground, Jake sighed, then raised both pistols, aiming toward the doorway.
In the original film, Mathilda's family would be slaughtered, then she'd be taken in by Léon. The two would spend time together, and their story would unfold.
It was a classic and moving story, but in this world, before that story could even begin, Jake had decided to completely rewrite it.
Perhaps Léon and Mathilda were meant to be together, but in Jake's view, not stopping these killers and letting them follow the original plot just to bring two people together was idiotic.
For Mathilda's safety, and to prevent Léon from dying senselessly in the future, he needed to eliminate this threat right here.
Most importantly, the plot of this world had already changed; even if Jake didn't act now, Léon couldn't appear in time to save Mathilda.
All these thoughts passed in just two or three seconds.
The next moment, the footsteps stopped—right at the doorway.
Jake instinctively rolled left across the floor. Sure enough, the next instant a shotgun barrel emerged from the doorway, spitting fire.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The floor was instantly torn up by buckshot.
Breathing hard, Jake didn't stop moving. After rolling left to avoid the spread, he immediately crouched low and pushed off with his legs, launching himself backward.
Just as Léon had said, he had excellent marksmanship but poor close-quarters instincts. Therefore, it was better to use his strengths right now—distance and accuracy.
As he moved, the shotgun tracked left and right, firing several more times, some pellets narrowly missing him.
Finally, after seven or eight shots, the shooter paused to reload and slowly exposed part of his head.
Just a partial profile, maybe two inches of target area.
Jake pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Dead accurate.
With a sharp crack, a bloody hole appeared in the shooter's forehead.
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