By Lauren Kelly
Another deep night surrendering to dawn’s burning glow, another job swiftly completed. A slight sardonic grin caresses my lips as I focus the tiny photo lens in my cell to the scene in the narrow alley lying before me. The softly rising sun giving the prostrate male a haloed angelic quality, if you could ignore the growing scarlet pool of mortality he was bathing in. The morbid serenity was broken by the harsh snap of the shutter as the image was captured. Nothing personal honey, you were just a job. As I waited for the delay to display the photo my attention was sharply caught by a discordant sound of air trying to fill a torn lung. I snapped the cell shut and tucked it into a small hidden pocket on the side of my black body suit. Careful to not be touched by the glistening crimson stain I crouched down to get a closer look at his chest. With my head slightly cocked to the right, I waited to see if it was just a last reflex of a dying body. After a few moments stretched in a seemingly endless allotment, there it was again; a desperately wet and rasping attempt to breathe. With my eyes so close to him, I could actually see the minute red bubbling rising through the small hole in-between his ribs.
Damn it! I dropped my head to my chest as the extremity of what my almost mistake could of cost me. It wouldn’t be the lack of payment that would hurt but the repercussions of failing is not something a girl could just walk away from. Not in this business. I closed my eyes and drew in a slow cleansing breath. I must have had the blade tilted slightly to the side; his lung taking the most damage instead of slicing through the aorta as planned. But, I had to have grazed some part of the heart; there is just too much blood loss to be solely from a lung. That’s what I deserve for getting cocky, but it’s easily fixed. I slid the stiletto from the concealed sheath in my boot, cursing myself silently for the sloppiness that requires a second thrust. As I lifted my head my crystalline blue gaze was suddenly locked with a deep green one. All that was reflected in those sage depths was confusion and agony.
I carefully braced my left hand on a clean patch of concrete next to his cheek as I shortened the gap between our bodies. The black leather of the glove cushioning me from the sharp stabs of stray rocks and glass shards as more of my weight was shifted onto it. My hair was slicked back into an unforgiving bun, so I wasn’t worried about leaving anything of myself behind to be found. I made soft soothing sounds, as one would make to quiet a child. It wasn’t really his fault his face came across on my phone; he just made the wrong enemy. I continued to stretch out over him, feeling my muscles pull tight as I balance just a couple inches above him. Watching his eyes struggle for comprehension of what was happening to him I made sure to keep my right hand with the blade in its grip hidden behind my back. I never ask personal details of the hits. I know all I need to with a picture and general location to find them in. Plus, with only 72 hours to send back a picture of the completed assignment I don’t have time to care about anything else. I’ve heard rumors of those who have failed to complete a job in the set time. Not only did their hit go to a different assassin, but they soon discovered their own faces gracing the screen of another high tech predator. And I don’t think I want to test skills that way.
As he made yet another crucial effort to take in a breath I bent my arm to lower my face to the side of his. I stopped when barely an inch separated us. “I have a secret for you sweetheart.” I was oh so careful to keep my lips from grazing the shell of his ear as I tenderly spoke. “My voice is going to be the last sound you ever hear.” As I had been talking I had slowly taken my hand off my back and moved the stiletto to his already ruined chest. I nestled my blade’s point into the vulnerable soft spot right under the sternum. As I exhaled I pushed it in, the cold steel slipping almost effortlessly through his chest cavity. Just the slight pop letting me know I hit my target square on this time. Holding the blade very still I smoothly shifted my weight back to the balls of my feet and eased my body away from his. When I judged myself to be out of the line of fire for arterial spray I pulled the steel free. I shouldn’t have worried about the arterial spurt as much, judging by the weak bursts his heart was at best, only half full. But hey, I had already been too damn careless tonight. His last spasms were only witnessed by my own icy gaze and the new sun that finally broke the horizon. I had to tug the front of his shirt from his jeans in order to find an unsoiled patch to wipe the blood off the steel.
After sheathing it I quickly straightened back up to my full five foot nine; my body giving small cries of protest at the abuse I put it through this night compiled upon the numerous other nights similar to it. No time for coddling myself; I knew I had to move quickly. While it was still too early for anyone else to be out and about; why risk any more than I needed to. With a careless gait I exited the alleyway while pulling off the supple leather gloves. My soft-soled boots didn’t make a sound as I walked the deserted concrete sidewalk down the few blocks where I had left my bike. I pushed my sleeves up past my elbows as the sun burned off the nights chill. When my ride was in view I pulled the bun lose. Auburn waves gratefully cascaded down my back as I tossed my head to accelerate their release. That feels so much better without the tension on my skull. That cocky sardonic smile was once again gracing my lips. If anyone did happen to see me, all they would really remember is some Goth-looking girl dressed in midnight. With an alternative club a few streets over there are a limitless number of females fitting that description. While walking I once again pulled out my cell and scrolled down to the images section. After a few seconds delay, there it was. Picture perfect and another job completed. I reached my bike as I hit attach and send. When I received the “message sent” icon I tucked the little phone back away into my pocket. Already putting the last few hours work out of my mind I shrugged on my riding jacket and picked up my helmet off the seat. Tightening the strap under my chin I just keep hoping that I’ll get, at least, a 48-hour reprieve until my next text comes through.
About Lauren Kelly