Chapter 56

A/N: We're in the endgame now, ladies and gentlemen. Including this one, there are two more chapters left and an epilogue. To say it's been a long time coming would be an understatement.

The abandoned warehouse was deadset in the middle of the docks, the quality of the exterior showed that it hadn't been abandoned for long. Its doors were sealed shut, and the sign hanging overhead with the painted words "AUTO PARTS" peeling off made it seem to the wandering eye that this was just another business going through hard times.

Even though it was near the most populated area of Southern Arendelle, no one would have ever expected this building was housing a murdering psychopath.

Elsa watched anxiously from across the street, leaning on what may have been the same ATM that outed Hans' hiding place. The workday was winding down, few people were out on the streets and those who were most likely ended up at the Last Stop. She saw no movement coming from inside, but certainly there had to be some sort of trap waiting for her if she decided to barge right in.

Trap or not, however, that's exactly what she was going to do.

In the sunset, covered by the increasing shadows and her dark hoodie, Elsa made her move. She paced towards the warehouse, grabbed her pistol from its holster, and pulled open the front doors. Step one of her plan was complete.

The interior is brighter than she expected, the evening light comes through a large hole in the back of the roof. The glow illuminates rows of shelves with empty cardboard boxes scattered about, the rest of the shelves are bathed in the darkness. Elsa advances slowly, pistol aimed forward with her finger on the trigger.

"Hans!" She shouts, her cry echoing across the metal. "I know you're in here!"

It's quiet for a moment, long enough for Elsa to doubt his presence here, but then she hears him speak.

"What took you so long?"

The darkness and the acoustics of the warehouse make his voice seem like it's coming from all directions. She stays in the light, reasoning that it'll be easier to expect an attack if he steps into it. For now, though, she has to keep him talking. "I was busy thinking up ways to kick your ass," she responds.

"All that time, and that's the response you come up with?" Hans' dreaded laugh reverberates through the space.

"Yeah, keep laughing asshole," Elsa mutters to herself, searching for any sign of him in the shadows. "I'm not here to exchange one-liners! I came here to personally make you pay for everything you've done."

"I guess you finally learned to fight your own battles, huh? I heard another officer kicked the bucket half an hour ago. Guess you can't save them all."

Elsa tries to block out that horrifying news. She went straight here when Flynn told her where Hans would be, she didn't have time to check the news. Besides, that may have been a lie. "Speaking of fighting your own battles, isn't it about time that you showed your face? Why don't you stop hiding like a coward?"

"This coming from the woman who spent the past few days holed up inside her office." Elsa's eyes narrow, his voice has seemingly gotten louder. He must be closer than before.

"This coming from the man who spent the past few days cowering in a warehouse," she rebutted.

"You took everything away from me!" Elsa smirks, she didn't expect to push his buttons so soon. He's definitely close. "What was I supposed to do? Let myself get arrested and watch you parade around your unearned, tainted victory?"

"Yes, that's exactly what you were supposed to do." Elsa thinks that she sees movement coming from a nearby shelf. She takes one cautious step towards it and tightens her grip. "Now why don't you come over here so we can settle this business once and for all."

"With pleasure."

Elsa spins around, but before she can aim the pistol at him she's being tackled to the ground. She lands on the concrete with a grunt and feels the wind being knocked out of her.

The pistol lays on the ground away from her, half-covered by the darkness.

Hans loosely straddles her and has a fist cocked back, but Elsa's instincts are quicker and she lands a blow right on his cheek that catches him off guard. At that moment, she raises one of her legs and knees him below his belt.

As she scrambles away, Elsa can't help but smile. The fight is on, and step two of her plan is complete.

Anna always heard that your life flashed before you just as you were about to die, like a highlight reel of your highs and lows happening in the blink of an eye.

So, as she struggled to move the two-ton man off of her and stared right at the barrel of a gun, Anna wondered why the heck that wasn't happening now?

Her life had highlights! She was on a varsity lacrosse team, she had an amazing first kiss, she got dumped by the woman she loved, she opened up a bakery, she was even kidnapped. But as the terrifying man sneered at her with his finger poised to pull the trigger, none of those thoughts flashed by.

Maybe her life wasn't eventful as she thought...or maybe she wasn't about to die.

Mere seconds before her possible imminent doom, the man was knocked off balance and fell backward. The presumably dead Marshall growled and picked himself up with the ease of a man who totally didn't just get shot in the shoulder.

As he stood up, Marshall slid the loaded gun towards Anna's hand and demanded in a gruff, pained voice: "Get out of here!"

Her head's swimming and she's barely able to register what he's saying. She tries to sit up but a sharp pain moves along her shoulder, it feels like something's torn or broken. She keeps it nestled by her side and props herself up with her working arm.

She tries to grab at the counter for leverage, but it shakes and she hears glass shatter as Marshall rams her attacker into it. There's a lot of grunting and punching, more glass being broken. The man breaks free and drives a knee into Marshall's gut that sends him retreating backward. In retaliation, Marshall unholsters his gun but the man tries to wrestle it away.

The barrel is being pointed in any and all directions. Anna could flee through the kitchen doors, but she can't until one of them- hopefully Marshall- gains complete control of the gun. Instead, she crouches behind what's left of the front counter, hearing this battle unfold.

It's chaos, and even though Marshall told her to leave, Anna wants to help. But without the use of her other arm, she's extremely limited in what she can and can't do. In the corner of her eye, she spots something still on the floor: the other gun.

She remembers that Marshall pushed it her way, but in her struggle to sit up she forgot to grab it. It's only a few feet away, should she risk going for it? Or should she stay where she is and hope that Marshall has the situation handled?

No, she can't just stand by and watch. Not anymore.

She boldly peeks around the corner as a shot rings out, fortunately, the gun was pointed up. Unfortunately, it hit one of the fluorescent lights, darkening the half of the room that the two men were struggling in. They're just vague outlines now, semi-illuminated by the Christmas lights overhead and the evening light through the windows. Like two spirits in an eternal struggle.

Her area is still lit, the pistol beckons her. She takes a deep breath and lunges for it, but that's when the two men come bouldering in and smack it out of its position. Marshall is pinned to the wall as two hands try to wrap around his neck. There's blood coming down the side of his face and she can already see bruises forming from the tears in his shirt.

"Why haven't you left yet?!" he growls.

"Because I'm trying to help you!" Anna responds.

"And I'm trying to keep you safe!" He adds emphasis to the last word as he lands a stiff blow to his opponent's ribcage. Before he picks him up and rams him back into the darkness, he cries out one more time: "Get out of here!"

She hears the clanging and scraping of metal. The smarter play would be to heed Marshall's advice and leave, it sounds like he has the situation under control. She looks over to the kitchen doors, and that's when a metal chair comes hurtling towards them, smacking into the wall and leaving a sizable dent into the plaster.

There's no escaping even if she wanted to- which she doesn't. She needs to help, she wants to help.

In their struggle, it seems as if they pushed the pistol closer to her. Without thinking, Anna reaches for it again and lets out a sigh of relief when she's able to grab it uninterrupted. She can't rest now though, not before knowing who has the other one.

She looks above the counter, hoping to see that Marshall has the upper hand. Instead, what she sees is the other man successfully pinning him against the wood with his hands on his throat. Anna has to stop him, she lines up her shot and places her finger on the trigger.

But before she can pull it, Marshall grabs the cash register with one hand and hits it against his attacker's shoulder. He lets out a wail and clutches at his arm, and Marshall picks him up and drives him right through the storefront window. The glass shatters as they both go tumbling outside.

Anna winces, and she wants to mourn over the damage being done to her bakery, but right now she has a job to do. She stands up and follows them out.

Elsa knew that her window of opportunity was closing with each passing second, she turned over and scrambled to her gun. Hans is writhing on the floor behind her, just like he should.

She wants to let out a sigh of relief when her fingers wrap around the grip, but she's tackled back onto the ground, cutting her celebration short. This next step wasn't going to be as easy, then again she wasn't expecting it to. Hans was strong, it wasn't going to be easy to overpower him.

But damn if she wasn't going to try.

"Oh no you don't," he hissed above her as he tries to grab at the gun. When she sees his arm in her field of vision, Elsa grunts as she sinks his teeth into his skin. She wasn't exactly a saint on the lacrosse field, she learned how to play dirty in case the other team did too.

When she hears him yelp, Elsa lets go satisfied when she sees the punctured skin of his forearm- and a little sick from tasting his blood. "Agh, you bitch!" It's good to know that she's caught him off-guard with her tactics, but again she can't celebrate too soon.

In her attempts at stopping one arm, she neglected the other. And despite drawing blood from Hans, he was still able to grab the pistol.

Elsa tries to ram an elbow into his side, but he rolls over at the last second, wrapping his bloodied forearm around his neck. A blaring alarm goes off in her head as he tightens his grip and makes it harder to breathe.

This isn't how it ends, she can't allow it. If she passes out right here, then it's all over. Hans would win, she'd wake up and find herself at the bottom of the ocean, or six feet under. Maybe she won't wake up at all. That wasn't about to happen, not after she'd come this far.

Every time she tries to claw at his arm, Hans squeezes tighter; and she can't grab the pistol out of his hand because he's let it go momentarily to completely lock in the chokehold. Elsa couldn't go for the arms, and his body was right beneath her so there wasn't anything she could grab that would let him go. She could feel herself growing more lightheaded, time was running out. In a fit of desperation she reached up and began clawing at his eyes with both hands.

Hans lets her go with a shout.

Elsa sits up and catches her breath, there's still spots around her eyes and her throat feels like it just got punched but at least she's still alive. There's blood under her fingernails, matching the blood around her lips.

They both get up at the same time, but Hans scrambles away with his bloodied arm over his face. He still has the pistol, which makes him a threat even if he's fifteen feet away. Elsa takes this time to slink into the darkness, it's time for him to know what it feels like to be lost and helpless. Step three of her plan was complete.

By the time Anna steps through the remains of her storefront window, the two men have seemingly disappeared. The banging and cuss words being shouted from the alleyway reassure her that they're still close.

She moves towards the wall and peeks into the dark alley next to her bakery, it seems as if Marshall has the upper hand as one well-placed boot sends his opponent slamming into the dumpster. But he gets a wooden pallet driven into his side when he tries to advance. Anna would be surprised if he didn't have a bunch of splinters after that hit.

The blow is hard enough to knock Marshall off his feet, it doesn't seem as if they know she's here yet and Anna wants to keep it that way. For now, she moves back behind her corner.

She takes a deep breath amidst the sounds of punches landing. "Come on, Anna," she says, "You can do this. The only gun you've shot before is a rubber band gun, but how different can a real gun be, right?"

The pistol is heavy in her hands, she keeps her finger as far away from the trigger as possible. Even just holding it makes her feel like it's gonna go off and somehow land a bullet right between her eyes. "It's very different," she groans, "But you have to do this, you have to help. No more sitting on the sidelines."

More sounds of wood breaking and metal clanging, their stamina and fortitude are inhuman. With another deep breath, Anna peeks around one more time. It seems as if it's Marshall's turn to receive a boot to his gut. He doubles over and slides down the brick wall. Their blood mixes in with the grimy environment, a stray cat runs past Anna as the fight continues.

When Marshall is on the ground, the other man grabs his collar and starts landing undefended punches. If Anna's going to help, it has to be now. They're both more than twenty feet away, but she feels confident that she can hit him.

Anna steps forward, takes a breath, lines up her shot, and pulls the trigger.

*POP*

The bullet hits the dumpster above him.

Now Anna has two problems: not only did she badly miss her shot, but she's gotten the big man's attention. He lets go of Marshall and stands up, walking towards Anna with murder in his eyes.

"Shit," She mutters to herself. But there's no time to dwell on her mistake, she doesn't have time for him to get too close. The alleyway is long, and they were near the end of it. Even with the waning confidence in herself, she lines up another shot.

*POP*

It hits! She only grazes his shoulder, but there's still blood that she can see. He's still moving though, and he's also gotten angrier. One more shot, and she needs to hit something bigger.

*POP*

Anna smiles when the bullet lands in his shoulder, but it fades when she realizes that he's still moving. Faster. "You've got to be kidding me," she groans.

His slow steps have turned into paces and the alarms in her head are louder than the gun. He's only a few feet away, but still out of arm's reach. One last shot, and it needs to count. With him being this close, there's very little room for error.

*POP*

This one lands squarely in the center of his chest. But he's still moving. Before she can shout any sort of expletive or line up another shot, he's gotten close enough to grab at her throat like a sharp-dressed zombie. Before those meaty hands can wrap around her neck, she does the only thing she can think to do.

*POP*

*POP*

*POP*

*POP*

Four more shots. She didn't care where they went, she just wanted him to go down. And down he goes, right on top of her. Once again she lands on the ground with a thud and with the weight of another massive man falling on her, she wouldn't be surprised if her shoulder's even more broken.

When the alarms stop ringing, a moment of clarity rushes through her: she just killed someone.

Yes, he was going to kill them both, but still...she murdered someone. Actual blood is on her hands, life was ceased by the eight bullets she fired. Anna's heart beats faster and faster, she feels like she's suffocating but she's not strong enough to pull him off of her. Even though the imminent threat is over, she still wonders if this is how she's going to die: passing out from lack of oxygen while pinned underneath her attempted murderer.

But like a guardian angel, Marshall appears in her peripheral vision and pulls the man off of her. When she feels free enough she scrambles up and moves back towards the bakery wall.

And she throws up.

A lot.

By the end of it, her body is still heaving but there's nothing left to expel. Marshall's placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, and when Anna feels like it's finally over she wipes her mouth with her working arm and looks at him determined.

"We have to get to Elsa."

"Get out here and fight me, you fucking coward!"

Elsa's eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness just yet, but at least she can see all of Hans. His movements, the desperation in his barely open eyes, his erratic motions with the gun. So this is what it feels like to be the hunter instead of the hunted.

She bites her tongue to keep from saying anything that will give away her position and stays low to the ground. When he looks away from her, that's when she moves- slowly and steadily- and when he looks in her direction, she stays silent and still.

"You fucking coward!" Hans rubs his eyes one more time and she hears him hiss, any moment now he'll gain most of his vision back.

If she's going to act, she has to do it now.

When Hans looks the other way again, Elsa moves forward. She stays on her toes until she's close enough to him, and then she pounces. It's satisfying to hear him fall to the floor and to be the one that's on the defensive. It's been so long since Elsa's felt this in control before, and it feels amazing. After being manipulated, assaulted, and degraded by this deranged lunatic, she finally has the upper hand.

But, again, it's too soon to celebrate. She may have succeeded in catching him off guard, but he's still got a hold of the gun. And when he turns over, he points the gun right at her...but doesn't pull the trigger.

"Get off me," he growls. Elsa steps away and gives him room to stand, there's blood on his lip and his infuriated eyes have satisfying scratch marks that line the upper part of his face. She remains on her knees, staring down the barrel of her own gun. He hasn't pulled the trigger, although she can understand why.

After all, every villain needs time to do a monologue.

"I've waited years for this, you know? I've waited years to see you on your knees and begging me not to take everything away from you."

"I'm not begging you for anything," Elsa says defiantly.

"Yeah, well you will be soon." Hans pulls the hammer back on the pistol. "You took everything away from me. I used to have everything: my own company, all the money I could ever want, all the fame and women I could ever want...but I never had the spotlight. That was all yours, the one thing that I wanted more than anything was always out of my reach because you had it. And you wouldn't let go."

"I never wanted the spotlight, I just wanted to do my job."

"Bullshit! You loved it, that's why you held on to it for so long!"

"Maybe I held on to it because I wasn't a bloodthirsty psychopath!" Elsa knew it may not be the best idea to argue with a man holding a gun, but the longer she kept him talking…

"So you admit it! You admit your selfishness, you admit to ruining my life, you admit to all of it!" Now that she has a better view of his eyes, there's something else that Elsa is seeing: nothing. There's a vacancy in his eyes as if he's here but not really here. His lust for vengeance and violence has finally overtaken him, what Elsa's looking at is a husk of what he once was.

"Hans, you need help. And a lot of it. Is your problem really with me? Or someone else?" Another risky move, but maybe she could finally get some answers.

"I lived in a mansion, my family ruled over an island. I could have anything at the snap of a finger, which is more than anyone else in this shithole could say- including you. Why would I ever have a problem with anyone else but you?"

"What about your family?"

She sees his eye twitch and a breath catch in his chest, she hit a nerve. "What about them?" Hans asks.

"Did you have everything you wanted with them?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"How did your parents treat you?" And that sets him off, that was one risky move too many. With a terrifying shout, Hans smacks her on the cheek with the pistol. Elsa falls back on to the floor and spits out blood...and a tooth. It's hard to see out of her right eye.

"Enough of this," He hisses. "No more questions. I was going to drag you to the bakery to watch your precious Anna die right in front of you, but I guess I'll just bring your corpse to her instead."

Elsa wipes the blood off her lips and sits up on her knees again. Her vision is blurry, it's hard to breathe, and it's far too late to negotiate with Hans, but she laughs. "Do it…", she says hoarsely.

Hans lines the pistol right at her forehead, and with one final cry, he pulls the trigger.

Elsa smiles. Not because she's at peace with what's finally happening, but because step four of her plan is complete.

When the stream of water hits her forehead, she revels in the confusion on Hans' face before laughing one more time. "You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

Hans looks like he's going to say something, but Elsa's already on her feet and she hits him across the face as hard as she can. It's such a satisfying feeling when she plants her fist across his jaw, even if her hand feels like it hit a brick wall. "That's for all the people you've hurt, you son of a bitch."

He's standing but off-balance, and so is she. Her ears are still ringing and she feels the beginnings of a splitting headache, but she has to stay on him. After coming this far, she refuses to let him get the advantage. Before he can retaliate, Elsa lands a wild, strong kick that connects somewhere on his body, maybe an arm or his side. Wherever she hit, it sends him stumbling onto the floor.

"That's for threatening me!"

Hans is on his back again, clutching his stomach. Elsa races over to him and grabs him by his collar, the last time she saw someone's face this bloodied and bruised was during their senior year game versus Southern Isles. Back then she felt guilty, but right now she felt vindicated.

She pulled him up so she could whisper in his ear, "And this is for even thinking about laying a hand on Anna."

Elsa reels her arm back and smiles, knowing that step five of her plan was…

Was…

There's something...some stinging feeling in her side that stops her. It feels like she got punched, but Hans' fist hasn't left her stomach and there's a stinging, warm feeling where his hand is. She looks down just in time to see him pull his fist away, and protruding from his ring is a small blade. Blood drips from the tip of it...her blood.