Quentin
25th July 2005, 21:30
She walked with a cool collected calm that only the finest of prowlers could master. Unsuspecting patrons walked pasted her from oncoming and from behind. She was masterful in deception, the thought of anyone out witting her was beyond anyone's imagination. For her work was always signified by the mark. A black dagger left on the scene. The police could never figure out who she was, they were always 3 steps behind... except this one. He was also one of the force's best detectives. Why take him here? Why now? He was the closest person to ever find her trail. After all, not everyone is completely invisible. Part of covert opts was to eliminate loose ends and she had to tie this one up. He didn't even know she was stalking him. It was a cement jungle, he was the prey, and she was the predator moving in for the kill. Her timing, disciplined and calculated, as always... was perfect.
A commotion stirred his attention and he looked away from her. A street hoodlum had stolen a purse from a citizen, ran in to a patrol officer. It was a crowded street and not much movement was gained during these lunchtime endeavors. Like the hairs on the back of the great panther, she poised herself for the kill… ready to pounce.
Johnathan Lee turned into the most beautiful of women he'd ever seen. So captivated by her charming yet wicked smile, he didn't even register the hot sensation against his chest. It was warm against her face. As the blade slipped unnoticed through his ribcage, he felt the euphoria of beauty wash over him, her beauty and he welcomed it. Someone shoved him away, and he became dizzy. Before he realized that his favorite white shirt had become wine red, she was gone. John looked back and forth, someone screamed, and he lost it. The woman... where is she, will she come back? These were the last thoughts racing through his mind before he slipped into the cold darkness.
The hunter walked away without even being seen. Falling from her gloved hand was the glinting dull flash, from a black dagger.
+ + +
The detective arrived on the scene to access the death of his partner. There was the usual yellow, do not cross tape surrounding his partner's form. Police were moving people away from the area and news crews were told to back away until later. Clicks and flashes of cameras brought the detective from his thoughts. He wasn't sure why Lee's assassin would strike out in the middle of daylight, when the streets were bustling with hundreds of eye witnesses, either she became more careless in her vendetta against Lee or she was sending a message. He figured that it was the ladder... that had to be it. When dealing with someone that has eluded the law for years, Barns would not put it past that dangerous assassin. Another officer came about to yield a knife in a bag labeled evidence. Sure enough it was a black dagger, and tests would yield Lee's blood on the blade he was for sure. And he was sure that the knife would not have any traces of DNA or prints. She was precise, thorough and clean. That scared Lee and Barns shared the same sentiments.
"I knew he was too close." the detective speculated. He spoke more to himself than to the officer. "There wasn't anything else..." the other offered. "Of course not... she is elusive to say the least."
Detective Barns concluded. Detective Barns walked around and chatted with witnesses, no good leads. They all were too pre-absorbed in their own business to even notice someone being stabbed. How pathetic he thought. It occurred to him that he might better probe for information from a homeless bum. He looked about and noticed a man half sleeping in the ally adjacent to where is partner now lay. The man smelled of putrid beer. Dirt caked his cheeks and the clothes he wore looked as if they were from a prehistoric cave of garbage. The long and matted beard he bore had flies clinging to crumbs of food that were decorating his mane like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Barns was not particularly interested in interviewing him here, so he decided to arrest the man for drunk in public charges. He was sure that it would not be the first time. He turned to grab the closest patrol officer on the scene but instead found himself staring at the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in is life. She was wearing a black trench coat with thigh high boots that barely met the short tight skirt that squeezed her waist. Her top was slim and barely cupped the woman’s well defined bosoms. Her hair was jet black and it flowed from her face rather smoothly in the wind. She was standing tall despite her short stature. He could not turn away... he felt as if he did, the world would end. She slowly turned to him letting her eyes wander until she met his. Their gazes locked and he could feel himself warming up. felt his trousers move. She was a goddess. Her smile broke off his mesmerized glare and was instantly replaced by his stark embarrassment. He turned to offer her some decency and when he turned back she was gone. He rushed to the curb and looked up and down the street, but she was lost in a blanket of people covering the sidewalk. Barns wondered if he'd ever have the fortunes of seeing her again... probably not. His pessimism overruled any shred of hope stirring from his most recent fantasies. Enough playing around Barns, he thought... I have to interview this witness.
Later that day, Barns interviewed the bum and found that he had been sleeping for most of the day. A lot of good that did, just then, his phone rang. Barns got a dreadful sensation at that moment, and thought that if he picked up the phone, he would run into more misery. Sure enough, the call was his wife. She had managed to track him down primarily to nag at him for not doing as she asked. The other detectives knew this routine and merely felt for the guy. They snickered at him for always replying... yes dear, and I know dear. This was usually followed by a; it won’t happen again dear... I know... I mean it this time. Anything to get her off the phone, but then, this time it was a little different.
"You have a package here for you, when are you coming to get it? Can you bring me some fresh tomatoes for supper? And while you are at it, pick up some milk... we are out of milk... are you there Ted? Oh... and we are out of dish soap." It was a wind that would never and... All Ted Barns could say was, "I'm on it."
"Who is this package from Ted? Are you seeing someone? Its smells like a woman? You better not be cheating on me!!" Ted hung up the phone.
It didn't even hit him until he was getting up to clock out for the day when he realized that he had a package that smelled like a woman in his wife’s' hands. What was that all about? With more haste than flies on shit, he gathered his briefcase and grabbed his keys, left the office and ran to his car. This was getting spooky and he needed to get to the bottom of things.
+ + +
She watched him exit the police station... He was in a hurry and she thought that he'd gotten the news. Sure enough, as she followed him, she knew already where he was headed. Men are so weak... she thought. With a hint of a smile creeping across her lips, she kind of laughed, like a little school girl giggling at the boy in the sandbox. This wasn't going to be hard at all.
+ + +
He went right home as expected. When he got in, he was immediately assaulted by a woman bearing curses and threats. He ignored them and demanded the package. His wife handed the rather large, somewhat heavy box to him. He carried it over to the living room and checked the label. It was addressed to him and the paper used was pink. Pink? How odd... It smelled of perfume. He was afraid and he thought that it was something that got mixed up with someone else that had his name. It wasn't uncommon these days to receive packages addressed to you, that clearly wasn't meant for you. The mail system sucked.
"Can you get my knife dear?" He insisted. "What is it?" She replied. "Get my knife!" he yelled. She cringed in response and moved over to the bedroom where he kept his 'toys' all the while mumbling to herself.
He looked up and notices a SUV parked across the street. One he'd never seen before. The windows were tinted dark as midnight. It was running he knew.. the hot exhaust clashed with the cold winter air. It was spewing steam like a train. It was a cop's job to notice things unusual and he'd never seem it there before. Call it paranoia, but he thought he'd better check it out. Barns moved to the door and before he opened it, he checked his firearm. Loaded, good. He holstered the Glock and opened the door. Barns immediately noticed that the SUV had no plates. Walking towards the truck wasn't hard at all. But Barns didn't want to alarm the occupant. He pretended to grab the morning paper that his wife always forgot the get for him. It was close enough to the street to put him in a better position.
The vehicle was clean, black and sleek. It said to him that 'I am pristine' He thought of getting one himself. But the wife would never go for it. He bent down to grab the paper and.... BAM!!!!!!! The next thing he realized was flight. Barns was thrown across the street from the blast coming from his home. He fell into a roll and looked back at his house only to see it in flames. Shattered glass littered the lawn and the street. He felt pain in his back. He could not hear anything because his ear drums were ringing. Broken wood and shingle started to fall to the ground. He leaned and rolled trying to get his balance. No use. What the fuck happened he thought? His mind was racing... he had to get in there and save his wife. He watched as the door to the SUV opened and he could see soft smooth legs emerge from the darkness within. He watched as the black leather 2 inch heels that adorned the smooth legs met the ground. It was graceful. His gaze started to rise and he recognized her! It was her! He knew it! She was it, the assassin. He reached for his gun but found instead forlorn emptiness. She walked closer. He looked to his left and found the Glock. It was out of reach.
He tried to get up, but he was assaulted by pain in his back. She came closer. He rolled over to see his attacker. It was the most magnificent thing he'd ever seen. Her beauty seemed to calm him. It was like a mother, settling a baby. She had an aura about her that engulfed him. He steadied his breath waiting for the killing blow. But it never fell. She just stood over him and watched. Her dark eyes piercing him, reading his thoughts, then she bent low to get closer to him and he didn't resist. She smelled so good. Her hair was long and black just as before. It brushed his arm and it made him tingle. She smiled at him and moved her hand to his cheek. Oh the warmth! She was maternal ecstasy and he found himself wanting more. Who was this mysterious woman!? The soft caress of her fingers penetrated his soul; it gave him something... peace. He felt peace. She was the harbinger of death and yet at the same time, his spiritual peacekeeper. He fell then, into darkness. He could feel her there still and for some reason wasn't worried. All he could do was smile as he slipped away. In the last moments of his thought, he felt her leave him. NOOOO!! He wanted to scream! Nothing came out. He felt the cold then and it stretched out to his soul, taking it. He tried to resist but he didn't have the energy. Barns fell away into what he thought was hell, his peace taken from him, and the scent of god leaving his presence was more than he could bare. The betrayal was complete when Barns knew no more.
+ + +
She stood then, leaving the knife in Barns' neck. She glanced around and noticed people peering at her. She looked to the gun on the ground and belt low to pick it up. The neighbor across the street was a older man in his sixties, probably a good time for him she thought. She moved as fast as lightning towards the man. He stood there frozen in time. Her graceful stride was matched only by her acute keen accuracy. Three rounds went off and the man, gasping for breath moved his hand up to a tight group of holes in his chest. He tried to stop the blood from flowing freely but he didn't have the energy to continue the movement. He felt the air rushing past his face... watched as the ground slammed into him. She dropped the pistol on the ground next to the fallen man. She then glanced at the rest of the people watching her. They all started to move inside and as each one vanished from the outside world, she would stare at the next one until they were all gone. Satisfied that they got the message, she got in the Chevy Tahoe and sped off. That didn't go as well as she thought.
+ + +
In the foggy memory of her dreams, Alizee could hear the screams, they echoed through the room with a ferocious will. She was being assailed with the torment carried in the voices. One of the men hit her and she felt the warm trickle of blood go down her face right before it went numb from the impact. Her face swollen, she passed out with the onslaught of pain wracking her brain.
Every night she had these dreams, they always woke her in a cold sweat. Completely dazed by the searing memory of her childhood, Alizee felt the tightening of her throat. Felt the pain from last night’s dream well up within her. She put her head in her hands and began to weep. The tears flowed with out resistance. She would let it come. Welcoming it in its entirety, it was a ritual for her. However painful it is, she’d never forget what had happened so long ago. Some say that crying is a way of cleansing the soul she remembered. For her though, it was a constant reminder of dread that had followed her through the years. Just barely 20, it seemed that she had lived more than 100 years compared to others. It wasn’t always like this. Alizee forced happier thoughts of her life forward. She tried to grasp hope that one day things would be better. That she can find the love that was stolen from her.
“Time to go to work again” she said aloud. More to herself than the empty walls that encased her existence.
She stood. Her bare form being accentuated by the yellow glare from the room’s only window. Sweat was glistening off her back and neck. Gathering up a bathrobe, she put it on and walked into the kitchen where she would continue her morning ritual of coffee and a smoke. How she had fallen she thought. Not even finishing the cigarette, or even putting it out for that matter, she walked back into her room and sat at a desk. Not much else decorated the room, just a bed, her desk, a few pieces of luggage and an ammo box. In front of her on the wall just above the laptop she used, was news clipping and pictures of people. Military people from years ago, the age of the clippings and printouts were clearly marked on the headlines. Some of the pictures had ‘exes’ through them. She picked up a marker and crossed out 2 more. There were only seven more to go. Alizee powered up her computer and entered in a password. The computer started up and she opened a browser. A few quick searches revealed another person. And yes, he resembled the pictures of the ones on the wall. This one had an address attached to it though. She wrote it down and pinned it to the wall next to the picture.
A little over two weeks had passed since her last visit to the states. She would have to plan ahead this time. She was getting the idea that someone was catching on to her movements. Though they have not openly pursued her like the cops did, but she was aware of them. She knew they had noticed her. It didn’t matter, she was almost done and when it was all over she would find a small hole and crawl under it to escape the dreams.
She started to pack a lead lined box. It was large, large enough to fit a dismantled rifle in. She then proceeded to close the box; she sealed it and attached a label to it. Stripping herself of the robe, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. In a few minutes the steam would fog up the window and mirror. Not a big deal, she wasn’t concerned with looks, didn’t even care about make up or any of the girly things most her age would trouble themselves with.
The water slid smoothly down her bare skin. It felt good to her and she always spent a few extra minutes in the shower than most. Sometimes she’d even run the hot water all the way out. She glanced over to the pistol in the shower. It was a USP45, American made and hard to come by in France. Regardless it was a finely machined gun, very reliable and most importantly, it was loaded. A knock at the door startled her. She never had visitors, and she grabbed the gun, not even bothering to cover herself up, she’d moved to the door and stood to the side of it, back against the wall. She cocked her ear toward the door and listened for anything that would give away her visitor. Click, she removed the safety from the gun.
“Holà, Ali, tu es là?” she heard a girl’s voice proclaim. She relaxed and replied “Holà…”
Alizee moved to the bathroom and grabbed the robe and put it on. This was going to be a good day.
+ + +
After spending the day with Trystine who was just a tender and fragile age of 12 years old, the girl from a small village a few miles away that had befriended her. Alizee booked a flight to New York 3 weeks in advance. Her plan was to ship the rifle to an address she had reserved on an apartment in some small town in Massachusetts. She stopped for a minute to smile at Trystine. She and Tryst, as she liked to be called, had spent the day talking and laughing at stupid jokes while picking strawberries in the countryside. Alizee owned a rather large estate in the hills in southern France. She had inherited the plot when her parents died. She didn't care to remember any of it, as it would always bring those horrible dreams. But spending time with Tryst, she would forget about the horrors she'd faced and instead the feelings would be replaced by a childhood she'd never had. It was refreshing to her to spend time with such an innocent soul. Tryst was the only other person she had loved, as a little sister figure that she never had, Alizee could bond with her and talk about childish things.
As such, today's conversation was about love and family. Her recollections of her family were sub planted by the little girl's memories, which were more refreshing than Ali's. Sometimes she'd wished that she and Tryst could just go someplace else and be a family of their own. Alizee's retribution would not allow that, would demand justice and so as it was, she'd continue on the course of actions that would place her next to her target, a town mayor that resided in the states. Lately she'd been traveling there a few times a year, carefully picking the stage for her next mark. She had learned all that she needed when she shacked up with a legionnaire fanatic. He was a rebellious, cocky and more importantly well trained special ops soldier for the army of France. They would go out to the countryside and practice sniping targets at 600 meters. She'd convinced him to teach her close quarter combat, military covert tactics and espionage. She was into it. At the time she was filled with hate and regret. Later when he was serving a tour, she'd gotten word that he'd been KIA. Once she heard that she raided his weapon cache and most of his notes. That was just a little over 3 years to date.
+ + +
Special Agent Jim Manone was assigned to unusual homicides in the cases that crossed interstate lines. His primary assignments involved mainly serial killers. Most of the victims of killers had something in common such as gender, or color, sometimes even underlying points of interest like maybe locations or names. The more radical ones usually followed some biblical prophecy or some stupid nonsense like that. So when the black dagger case landed on his desk with out a parachute, he was rather confused. His senior field agent in charge insisted that he take this case. No background what so ever on any of the 5 deaths. No information on the killer other than he’d always left a black serrated knife on the scene, usually in the body. Basically all he really got was six pieces of paper in a manila folder labeled ‘black dagger assassin’. He started to cross reference the 5 stiffs in the folder but nothing unusual came up. 2 cops that were partners, 1 retired commercial helicopter pilot, 1 disabled man in a nursing home, and the last was a medical surgeon for Chicago’s finest. None of them were related to each other. His phone rang and Jim paused to pick it up.
“This is Agent Manone, can I help you?” he answered. “Yes, this is forensics… I think we have something.” The female voice replied. “I’ll be right down” Jim concluded.
Man she was a hot one. Jim always loved listening to her voice on the phone. Sometimes he would even have forensics re run tests when she was on shift. The FBI always had hired good looking people and he’d never complained. One of these days he thought, one of these days she is going to give it up. He smiled. When Manone entered the lab, he was greeted by a rather attractive red head. Her hair was tied on a bun atop her head. Under her while lab coat she wore slim causal slacks. Jim could see her pelvic bones on her hips being softly accentuated by the pants she wore. Her blouse was neatly ironed and it spoke of someone that was matriculate and disciplined. It was topped off with a low cut ‘V’ neck that was adorned with 3 buttons. The top one was undone. He licked his lips. Despite her thin wired reading glasses, Vanessa still looked stunning with even toned skin that brought out her deep hued hair. She had faint freckles dotting her cheeks, and he thought they were just the cutest things.
“Jim!” he’d heard her declare. “Oh… sorry, I was distracted.” Jim managed to spurt out. “Yeah, I bet…” She trailed off.
Vanessa walked over to a dish that contained some metal fragments. The lab was neatly cleaned and there were different types of machines with magnifiers and telescopic devices. X-Ray scans occupied the walls and in her area he saw some of the names. They were his victims’ names.
“So… what did you find?” he prompted.
Vanessa shifted through some paperwork and pulled one out. “This is the lab report on these fragments here.” She paused. “They surgeon removed these from one of your victims.”
“Fragments…? Like pieces of metal, fragments?” Jim questioned. “Yeah… The compounds in these fragments are made of your typical steel, but there are traces of explosive material.” She went on “Like from a grenade…”
“But none of these people were in the military, I checked that.” The denial was clearly written on his face. “I’m telling you this man has seen combat.” Vanessa stated rather bluntly. “And you need to check again.”
“Sometimes someone’s body can say more about them in death than records can say about their lives.” She hinted. “Look, this victim over here, was shot 3 times...” She was getting really excited now. “These men had been in the military. And I bet if you talk to someone in DC, they might come up with some purged records, classified documents, or something.”
Jim took this all in and started to think about the possibility that these men were part of some shadow unit. He’d heard about them before, through stories back in basic training. But the military never confirmed that they even existed. Now it seems that he might have to uncover something that the government meant to hide. The problem was that, the members of these shadow units never existed. Nothing, from their recruitment to their retirement was ever documented. Either he’d have to find someone that would confess, or he’d have to take the case to the trash can.
+ + +
“This is the captain speaking… we are about to land at J.F.K airport. The local time is 7:05pm. Our current weather is 55 degrees, a little chilly for the early autumn visitors. I hope you have enjoyed your flight, and please fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for Flying TED.” The Flight sounds system chirped.
Another visit to the states she thought. As the plane descended onto the runway, Alizee thought about the pain, her experiences, and the traumatic events that shaped her future. This is how she prepared for her next task. Gathering up her rage and hatred and focusing it onto the attention of her plans. The plane landed with a whooshing thump. She heard the skid marks as the tired hit the concrete. The plane’s engines whined up as the directional covers closed on the turbine vents. The plane started to shake and she thought that she was going to throw up. There was a bag there and even though it was not used this time, that all could change if the ride got bumpier.
Thank god for that… She was out of the plane and walking through the terminal when a man grabbed her by the arm. She was startled and moved away out of his grasp.
“Excuse me… but you dropped this.” The man finished. He was holding out a piece of paper.
Her eyes locked onto the paper and she tried to figure out if it was her notes or something else. She went numb inside. She gingerly reached for the paper, expecting the man to try and arrest her. It didn’t happen. The man nodded and made eye contact for a brief moment. She returned the gaze quizzically. This man was rather handsome… He smelled very pleasant and was well groomed despite his chiseled features. His hair was long by men’s standards and it radiated a deep brown hue. He wore a relatively bland button up shirt with western style pockets. His pleated slacks were clean and pressed. His demeanor spoke of a well disciplined and focused outlook. He seemed rather confident in himself and when he spoke, the words were smooth. “Coming here on business?” he questioned.
Alizee didn’t know how to respond. After all he could have looked at the paper. I was in French so she wasn’t worried too much. But what if he spoke French? Her paranoia was getting the best of her, and she forced her panic down.
“Désolé, excusez-moi !” she replied, hoping that the French would throw him off. He stood there just smiling. She though, good maybe he’ll leave me alone now…
“Parlez-vous Français?” he timed perfectly. A shock streaked across her face quickly covered by a hesitating a smile. “Pardon, Monsieur...” she ended. Alizee walked off then, glancing at the paper… it wasn’t in French but English. Her command of the English language was good, some would even think that she was from Louisiana by her accent, but her reading of some of the more complicated words was a bit troublesome. The paper read ‘I can’t help but not notice you. Would you care for dinner?’ There was a number on it too.
Earlier that day, she’d taken a taxi to the bus station where she waited for her route to Boston. Watching the scenery go by through the bus window, she could not help but think about France, how she loved the country there. It was a stark contrast to where she was now, but alluring at the same time. She thought about Trystine, about her innocence. Somehow Alizee managed to separate her longings from her realities. When she was away on ‘business’ she turned into a killer, she was calculated, refined and patient. But when she was at home with Trystine, she was giddy, happy, and anxious. It was like she had become two different people. All she could hope for was that the previous would die with the last one. Then she could move on and pursue her dreams. Dreams! What dreams? She had been so consumed with her vendettas that she never thought about her future. Before she knew it, the quiet darkness took her.
+ + +
After looking over the preliminary reports, Jim realized that every single victim in the file was military. But from what branch and why was there nothing on these guys’ records? It was all confusing to him. He had to figure this out. He turned to his computer and clicked an icon. Groupwise mail opened and he began to fill in the address. As he typed out his message, he also mumbled what he was typing; it was sort of a habit that allowed him to keep his train of thought while using email.
“My friend, informer… I seek information on 5 people that have come up dead in my case. Could you please see why these people’s military careers have been erased?” He paused for a moment. “And if you are interested, I’ll be in DC this weekend, you can reach me at 555-5785. Attached is the list of the 5 men I need information on.”
“Pee Ess, can you tell me if you find anything what platoon or squad they belonged to as well as getting the rest of the names on that list?” He stopped to tap his chin. “Thanks, I owe you one.”
Jim got up and grabbed his suitcase, car keys and a few other things; he had a road trip to go on and wanted to get a head start. It was a long drive from Langley to Washington.
+ + +
She heard the screams again, and the guns… the men were hitting her mother. She heard herself say “ils daddy?” then the man closest to her say “Shit up Bitch!” and moved over to her wielding a rifle. He didn’t point it at her, but instead hit her with it. She heard her dad, heard gun shots. The whimpering of her mother echoed through the darkness. It was a wave washing ashore and breaking on the coast of her soul. She tried to get up but she couldn’t.
She was being pushed, shoved and suddenly she was awake. The man that stood above her, towering, was trying to wake her. The bus had stopped and when she got up, she realized that they were already in Boston, at the bus terminal. The bus driver explained to her that she had slept the whole trip. He’d pulled into the terminal and unloaded everyone and even took a fifteen minute break for a smoke, thinking she would wake and get her belongings… But she was still there, snoring away, in a deep trance of her nightmares.
Quickly composing herself, Alizee grabbed her suitcase and walked out of the terminal. She walked a lot and it was not a nuisance to walk a few blocks to find a motel. She checked in and for the next few days, studied the motel and everyone that came and went. She was getting the feel of the area, and started to figure out her best course of escape incase she needed to run. She did that everywhere she went. There were a few close calls, because of her disciplined habits and keen sense of intuition, Alizee was able to disappear when those times arose.
Spending countless hours monitoring the address where her package was delivered, Alizee was convinced that nobody suspected anything unusual. She picked up the rifle and went to a remote area of the country to inspect the weapon. Time for a little target practice her mind went on. Assembly of the rifle was easy, she managed to beat her all time record of having that thing ready in less than 7 seconds. Not that speed meant anything… if she were in a situation where it would warrant speed, she’d just use a pistol instead. After all, she didn’t have anything to loose… Or did she? The question smacked her in the face. Lately, she’d been subsiding in her vindications. She found that she was becoming more and more normal in her constant battle of hatred and remorse. Remorse was winning and she felt good about that. With each kill, Alizee was in fact killing off demons that plagued her. As of late the dreams have been less consistent and with each dream, she’d remembered more. It was all coming together for her. She would start here, move to her 3 other marks and then go back to France. Still though, she still could not determine if she had been tracked through out this ordeal. Always looking over her shoulder and wondering if she had been made. It was a tickle at the back of her throat that kept her alert. She had grown accustomed to it, but lately that tickle had become more of a chap.
She had a few weeks to stage his retirement plans. He was up for re-election and his campaign was starting soon, she planned to take him on one of these occasions. As she sat there and thought about the encounter, she played out in her mind all of the aspects of the event, how they would occur and where she would be when they occurred. The cool temperature of the rifle’s muzzle rested on her cheek. She had not fired it yet. It smelled clean, well oiled, just as she had left it when it was placed in the box. She admired its perfection, it was meant to do one thing, and it did it well. She was almost jealous though… If this PSG-1 had a soul, it would never question its existence. I would know exactly what to do and how to do it. There were no gray areas it was all black and white to Mr. PSG-1. Glancing at the rifle, she knew that it would perform as a surgeon would. Slightly modified to fit a 10 centimeter suppressor, the barrel was shortened enough to compensate for the extra weight. She eyed the apple it wasn’t moving atop the rock she’d placed it on. Just under 400 meters, the apple was completely oblivious to its eminent death. A few adjustments and the image was in focus.
She could feel the tension in the trigger, could hear it speaking to her. It beckoned her to release it. To allow it to do what it was meant for. Steady now, she thought. The rifle pleaded at this point, I wanted to fulfill its destiny, and she knew that with her intervention, it would succeed. She smiled at that. The thought of this thing having a soul made her giggle a little, it was rather silly even. But the contrast to what it was, made the thought intriguing. She squeezed the trigger and felt the rifle slightly kick. Smoke came from the barrel she peered through the scope to see a now destroyed apple on a rock. Wait? She didn’t even register the sound… the whisper if its release under shadowed the recoil and its reloaded chamber. Her smile went wide. She picked up the spent cartridge and dismantled the rifle. I have to give you a bath later, she thought.
A commotion stirred his attention and he looked away from her. A street hoodlum had stolen a purse from a citizen, ran in to a patrol officer. It was a crowded street and not much movement was gained during these lunchtime endeavors. Like the hairs on the back of the great panther, she poised herself for the kill… ready to pounce.
Johnathan Lee turned into the most beautiful of women he'd ever seen. So captivated by her charming yet wicked smile, he didn't even register the hot sensation against his chest. It was warm against her face. As the blade slipped unnoticed through his ribcage, he felt the euphoria of beauty wash over him, her beauty and he welcomed it. Someone shoved him away, and he became dizzy. Before he realized that his favorite white shirt had become wine red, she was gone. John looked back and forth, someone screamed, and he lost it. The woman... where is she, will she come back? These were the last thoughts racing through his mind before he slipped into the cold darkness.
The hunter walked away without even being seen. Falling from her gloved hand was the glinting dull flash, from a black dagger.
+ + +
The detective arrived on the scene to access the death of his partner. There was the usual yellow, do not cross tape surrounding his partner's form. Police were moving people away from the area and news crews were told to back away until later. Clicks and flashes of cameras brought the detective from his thoughts. He wasn't sure why Lee's assassin would strike out in the middle of daylight, when the streets were bustling with hundreds of eye witnesses, either she became more careless in her vendetta against Lee or she was sending a message. He figured that it was the ladder... that had to be it. When dealing with someone that has eluded the law for years, Barns would not put it past that dangerous assassin. Another officer came about to yield a knife in a bag labeled evidence. Sure enough it was a black dagger, and tests would yield Lee's blood on the blade he was for sure. And he was sure that the knife would not have any traces of DNA or prints. She was precise, thorough and clean. That scared Lee and Barns shared the same sentiments.
"I knew he was too close." the detective speculated. He spoke more to himself than to the officer. "There wasn't anything else..." the other offered. "Of course not... she is elusive to say the least."
Detective Barns concluded. Detective Barns walked around and chatted with witnesses, no good leads. They all were too pre-absorbed in their own business to even notice someone being stabbed. How pathetic he thought. It occurred to him that he might better probe for information from a homeless bum. He looked about and noticed a man half sleeping in the ally adjacent to where is partner now lay. The man smelled of putrid beer. Dirt caked his cheeks and the clothes he wore looked as if they were from a prehistoric cave of garbage. The long and matted beard he bore had flies clinging to crumbs of food that were decorating his mane like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Barns was not particularly interested in interviewing him here, so he decided to arrest the man for drunk in public charges. He was sure that it would not be the first time. He turned to grab the closest patrol officer on the scene but instead found himself staring at the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in is life. She was wearing a black trench coat with thigh high boots that barely met the short tight skirt that squeezed her waist. Her top was slim and barely cupped the woman’s well defined bosoms. Her hair was jet black and it flowed from her face rather smoothly in the wind. She was standing tall despite her short stature. He could not turn away... he felt as if he did, the world would end. She slowly turned to him letting her eyes wander until she met his. Their gazes locked and he could feel himself warming up. felt his trousers move. She was a goddess. Her smile broke off his mesmerized glare and was instantly replaced by his stark embarrassment. He turned to offer her some decency and when he turned back she was gone. He rushed to the curb and looked up and down the street, but she was lost in a blanket of people covering the sidewalk. Barns wondered if he'd ever have the fortunes of seeing her again... probably not. His pessimism overruled any shred of hope stirring from his most recent fantasies. Enough playing around Barns, he thought... I have to interview this witness.
Later that day, Barns interviewed the bum and found that he had been sleeping for most of the day. A lot of good that did, just then, his phone rang. Barns got a dreadful sensation at that moment, and thought that if he picked up the phone, he would run into more misery. Sure enough, the call was his wife. She had managed to track him down primarily to nag at him for not doing as she asked. The other detectives knew this routine and merely felt for the guy. They snickered at him for always replying... yes dear, and I know dear. This was usually followed by a; it won’t happen again dear... I know... I mean it this time. Anything to get her off the phone, but then, this time it was a little different.
"You have a package here for you, when are you coming to get it? Can you bring me some fresh tomatoes for supper? And while you are at it, pick up some milk... we are out of milk... are you there Ted? Oh... and we are out of dish soap." It was a wind that would never and... All Ted Barns could say was, "I'm on it."
"Who is this package from Ted? Are you seeing someone? Its smells like a woman? You better not be cheating on me!!" Ted hung up the phone.
It didn't even hit him until he was getting up to clock out for the day when he realized that he had a package that smelled like a woman in his wife’s' hands. What was that all about? With more haste than flies on shit, he gathered his briefcase and grabbed his keys, left the office and ran to his car. This was getting spooky and he needed to get to the bottom of things.
+ + +
She watched him exit the police station... He was in a hurry and she thought that he'd gotten the news. Sure enough, as she followed him, she knew already where he was headed. Men are so weak... she thought. With a hint of a smile creeping across her lips, she kind of laughed, like a little school girl giggling at the boy in the sandbox. This wasn't going to be hard at all.
+ + +
He went right home as expected. When he got in, he was immediately assaulted by a woman bearing curses and threats. He ignored them and demanded the package. His wife handed the rather large, somewhat heavy box to him. He carried it over to the living room and checked the label. It was addressed to him and the paper used was pink. Pink? How odd... It smelled of perfume. He was afraid and he thought that it was something that got mixed up with someone else that had his name. It wasn't uncommon these days to receive packages addressed to you, that clearly wasn't meant for you. The mail system sucked.
"Can you get my knife dear?" He insisted. "What is it?" She replied. "Get my knife!" he yelled. She cringed in response and moved over to the bedroom where he kept his 'toys' all the while mumbling to herself.
He looked up and notices a SUV parked across the street. One he'd never seen before. The windows were tinted dark as midnight. It was running he knew.. the hot exhaust clashed with the cold winter air. It was spewing steam like a train. It was a cop's job to notice things unusual and he'd never seem it there before. Call it paranoia, but he thought he'd better check it out. Barns moved to the door and before he opened it, he checked his firearm. Loaded, good. He holstered the Glock and opened the door. Barns immediately noticed that the SUV had no plates. Walking towards the truck wasn't hard at all. But Barns didn't want to alarm the occupant. He pretended to grab the morning paper that his wife always forgot the get for him. It was close enough to the street to put him in a better position.
The vehicle was clean, black and sleek. It said to him that 'I am pristine' He thought of getting one himself. But the wife would never go for it. He bent down to grab the paper and.... BAM!!!!!!! The next thing he realized was flight. Barns was thrown across the street from the blast coming from his home. He fell into a roll and looked back at his house only to see it in flames. Shattered glass littered the lawn and the street. He felt pain in his back. He could not hear anything because his ear drums were ringing. Broken wood and shingle started to fall to the ground. He leaned and rolled trying to get his balance. No use. What the fuck happened he thought? His mind was racing... he had to get in there and save his wife. He watched as the door to the SUV opened and he could see soft smooth legs emerge from the darkness within. He watched as the black leather 2 inch heels that adorned the smooth legs met the ground. It was graceful. His gaze started to rise and he recognized her! It was her! He knew it! She was it, the assassin. He reached for his gun but found instead forlorn emptiness. She walked closer. He looked to his left and found the Glock. It was out of reach.
He tried to get up, but he was assaulted by pain in his back. She came closer. He rolled over to see his attacker. It was the most magnificent thing he'd ever seen. Her beauty seemed to calm him. It was like a mother, settling a baby. She had an aura about her that engulfed him. He steadied his breath waiting for the killing blow. But it never fell. She just stood over him and watched. Her dark eyes piercing him, reading his thoughts, then she bent low to get closer to him and he didn't resist. She smelled so good. Her hair was long and black just as before. It brushed his arm and it made him tingle. She smiled at him and moved her hand to his cheek. Oh the warmth! She was maternal ecstasy and he found himself wanting more. Who was this mysterious woman!? The soft caress of her fingers penetrated his soul; it gave him something... peace. He felt peace. She was the harbinger of death and yet at the same time, his spiritual peacekeeper. He fell then, into darkness. He could feel her there still and for some reason wasn't worried. All he could do was smile as he slipped away. In the last moments of his thought, he felt her leave him. NOOOO!! He wanted to scream! Nothing came out. He felt the cold then and it stretched out to his soul, taking it. He tried to resist but he didn't have the energy. Barns fell away into what he thought was hell, his peace taken from him, and the scent of god leaving his presence was more than he could bare. The betrayal was complete when Barns knew no more.
+ + +
She stood then, leaving the knife in Barns' neck. She glanced around and noticed people peering at her. She looked to the gun on the ground and belt low to pick it up. The neighbor across the street was a older man in his sixties, probably a good time for him she thought. She moved as fast as lightning towards the man. He stood there frozen in time. Her graceful stride was matched only by her acute keen accuracy. Three rounds went off and the man, gasping for breath moved his hand up to a tight group of holes in his chest. He tried to stop the blood from flowing freely but he didn't have the energy to continue the movement. He felt the air rushing past his face... watched as the ground slammed into him. She dropped the pistol on the ground next to the fallen man. She then glanced at the rest of the people watching her. They all started to move inside and as each one vanished from the outside world, she would stare at the next one until they were all gone. Satisfied that they got the message, she got in the Chevy Tahoe and sped off. That didn't go as well as she thought.
+ + +
In the foggy memory of her dreams, Alizee could hear the screams, they echoed through the room with a ferocious will. She was being assailed with the torment carried in the voices. One of the men hit her and she felt the warm trickle of blood go down her face right before it went numb from the impact. Her face swollen, she passed out with the onslaught of pain wracking her brain.
Every night she had these dreams, they always woke her in a cold sweat. Completely dazed by the searing memory of her childhood, Alizee felt the tightening of her throat. Felt the pain from last night’s dream well up within her. She put her head in her hands and began to weep. The tears flowed with out resistance. She would let it come. Welcoming it in its entirety, it was a ritual for her. However painful it is, she’d never forget what had happened so long ago. Some say that crying is a way of cleansing the soul she remembered. For her though, it was a constant reminder of dread that had followed her through the years. Just barely 20, it seemed that she had lived more than 100 years compared to others. It wasn’t always like this. Alizee forced happier thoughts of her life forward. She tried to grasp hope that one day things would be better. That she can find the love that was stolen from her.
“Time to go to work again” she said aloud. More to herself than the empty walls that encased her existence.
She stood. Her bare form being accentuated by the yellow glare from the room’s only window. Sweat was glistening off her back and neck. Gathering up a bathrobe, she put it on and walked into the kitchen where she would continue her morning ritual of coffee and a smoke. How she had fallen she thought. Not even finishing the cigarette, or even putting it out for that matter, she walked back into her room and sat at a desk. Not much else decorated the room, just a bed, her desk, a few pieces of luggage and an ammo box. In front of her on the wall just above the laptop she used, was news clipping and pictures of people. Military people from years ago, the age of the clippings and printouts were clearly marked on the headlines. Some of the pictures had ‘exes’ through them. She picked up a marker and crossed out 2 more. There were only seven more to go. Alizee powered up her computer and entered in a password. The computer started up and she opened a browser. A few quick searches revealed another person. And yes, he resembled the pictures of the ones on the wall. This one had an address attached to it though. She wrote it down and pinned it to the wall next to the picture.
A little over two weeks had passed since her last visit to the states. She would have to plan ahead this time. She was getting the idea that someone was catching on to her movements. Though they have not openly pursued her like the cops did, but she was aware of them. She knew they had noticed her. It didn’t matter, she was almost done and when it was all over she would find a small hole and crawl under it to escape the dreams.
She started to pack a lead lined box. It was large, large enough to fit a dismantled rifle in. She then proceeded to close the box; she sealed it and attached a label to it. Stripping herself of the robe, she walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. In a few minutes the steam would fog up the window and mirror. Not a big deal, she wasn’t concerned with looks, didn’t even care about make up or any of the girly things most her age would trouble themselves with.
The water slid smoothly down her bare skin. It felt good to her and she always spent a few extra minutes in the shower than most. Sometimes she’d even run the hot water all the way out. She glanced over to the pistol in the shower. It was a USP45, American made and hard to come by in France. Regardless it was a finely machined gun, very reliable and most importantly, it was loaded. A knock at the door startled her. She never had visitors, and she grabbed the gun, not even bothering to cover herself up, she’d moved to the door and stood to the side of it, back against the wall. She cocked her ear toward the door and listened for anything that would give away her visitor. Click, she removed the safety from the gun.
“Holà, Ali, tu es là?” she heard a girl’s voice proclaim. She relaxed and replied “Holà…”
Alizee moved to the bathroom and grabbed the robe and put it on. This was going to be a good day.
+ + +
After spending the day with Trystine who was just a tender and fragile age of 12 years old, the girl from a small village a few miles away that had befriended her. Alizee booked a flight to New York 3 weeks in advance. Her plan was to ship the rifle to an address she had reserved on an apartment in some small town in Massachusetts. She stopped for a minute to smile at Trystine. She and Tryst, as she liked to be called, had spent the day talking and laughing at stupid jokes while picking strawberries in the countryside. Alizee owned a rather large estate in the hills in southern France. She had inherited the plot when her parents died. She didn't care to remember any of it, as it would always bring those horrible dreams. But spending time with Tryst, she would forget about the horrors she'd faced and instead the feelings would be replaced by a childhood she'd never had. It was refreshing to her to spend time with such an innocent soul. Tryst was the only other person she had loved, as a little sister figure that she never had, Alizee could bond with her and talk about childish things.
As such, today's conversation was about love and family. Her recollections of her family were sub planted by the little girl's memories, which were more refreshing than Ali's. Sometimes she'd wished that she and Tryst could just go someplace else and be a family of their own. Alizee's retribution would not allow that, would demand justice and so as it was, she'd continue on the course of actions that would place her next to her target, a town mayor that resided in the states. Lately she'd been traveling there a few times a year, carefully picking the stage for her next mark. She had learned all that she needed when she shacked up with a legionnaire fanatic. He was a rebellious, cocky and more importantly well trained special ops soldier for the army of France. They would go out to the countryside and practice sniping targets at 600 meters. She'd convinced him to teach her close quarter combat, military covert tactics and espionage. She was into it. At the time she was filled with hate and regret. Later when he was serving a tour, she'd gotten word that he'd been KIA. Once she heard that she raided his weapon cache and most of his notes. That was just a little over 3 years to date.
+ + +
Special Agent Jim Manone was assigned to unusual homicides in the cases that crossed interstate lines. His primary assignments involved mainly serial killers. Most of the victims of killers had something in common such as gender, or color, sometimes even underlying points of interest like maybe locations or names. The more radical ones usually followed some biblical prophecy or some stupid nonsense like that. So when the black dagger case landed on his desk with out a parachute, he was rather confused. His senior field agent in charge insisted that he take this case. No background what so ever on any of the 5 deaths. No information on the killer other than he’d always left a black serrated knife on the scene, usually in the body. Basically all he really got was six pieces of paper in a manila folder labeled ‘black dagger assassin’. He started to cross reference the 5 stiffs in the folder but nothing unusual came up. 2 cops that were partners, 1 retired commercial helicopter pilot, 1 disabled man in a nursing home, and the last was a medical surgeon for Chicago’s finest. None of them were related to each other. His phone rang and Jim paused to pick it up.
“This is Agent Manone, can I help you?” he answered. “Yes, this is forensics… I think we have something.” The female voice replied. “I’ll be right down” Jim concluded.
Man she was a hot one. Jim always loved listening to her voice on the phone. Sometimes he would even have forensics re run tests when she was on shift. The FBI always had hired good looking people and he’d never complained. One of these days he thought, one of these days she is going to give it up. He smiled. When Manone entered the lab, he was greeted by a rather attractive red head. Her hair was tied on a bun atop her head. Under her while lab coat she wore slim causal slacks. Jim could see her pelvic bones on her hips being softly accentuated by the pants she wore. Her blouse was neatly ironed and it spoke of someone that was matriculate and disciplined. It was topped off with a low cut ‘V’ neck that was adorned with 3 buttons. The top one was undone. He licked his lips. Despite her thin wired reading glasses, Vanessa still looked stunning with even toned skin that brought out her deep hued hair. She had faint freckles dotting her cheeks, and he thought they were just the cutest things.
“Jim!” he’d heard her declare. “Oh… sorry, I was distracted.” Jim managed to spurt out. “Yeah, I bet…” She trailed off.
Vanessa walked over to a dish that contained some metal fragments. The lab was neatly cleaned and there were different types of machines with magnifiers and telescopic devices. X-Ray scans occupied the walls and in her area he saw some of the names. They were his victims’ names.
“So… what did you find?” he prompted.
Vanessa shifted through some paperwork and pulled one out. “This is the lab report on these fragments here.” She paused. “They surgeon removed these from one of your victims.”
“Fragments…? Like pieces of metal, fragments?” Jim questioned. “Yeah… The compounds in these fragments are made of your typical steel, but there are traces of explosive material.” She went on “Like from a grenade…”
“But none of these people were in the military, I checked that.” The denial was clearly written on his face. “I’m telling you this man has seen combat.” Vanessa stated rather bluntly. “And you need to check again.”
“Sometimes someone’s body can say more about them in death than records can say about their lives.” She hinted. “Look, this victim over here, was shot 3 times...” She was getting really excited now. “These men had been in the military. And I bet if you talk to someone in DC, they might come up with some purged records, classified documents, or something.”
Jim took this all in and started to think about the possibility that these men were part of some shadow unit. He’d heard about them before, through stories back in basic training. But the military never confirmed that they even existed. Now it seems that he might have to uncover something that the government meant to hide. The problem was that, the members of these shadow units never existed. Nothing, from their recruitment to their retirement was ever documented. Either he’d have to find someone that would confess, or he’d have to take the case to the trash can.
+ + +
“This is the captain speaking… we are about to land at J.F.K airport. The local time is 7:05pm. Our current weather is 55 degrees, a little chilly for the early autumn visitors. I hope you have enjoyed your flight, and please fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for Flying TED.” The Flight sounds system chirped.
Another visit to the states she thought. As the plane descended onto the runway, Alizee thought about the pain, her experiences, and the traumatic events that shaped her future. This is how she prepared for her next task. Gathering up her rage and hatred and focusing it onto the attention of her plans. The plane landed with a whooshing thump. She heard the skid marks as the tired hit the concrete. The plane’s engines whined up as the directional covers closed on the turbine vents. The plane started to shake and she thought that she was going to throw up. There was a bag there and even though it was not used this time, that all could change if the ride got bumpier.
Thank god for that… She was out of the plane and walking through the terminal when a man grabbed her by the arm. She was startled and moved away out of his grasp.
“Excuse me… but you dropped this.” The man finished. He was holding out a piece of paper.
Her eyes locked onto the paper and she tried to figure out if it was her notes or something else. She went numb inside. She gingerly reached for the paper, expecting the man to try and arrest her. It didn’t happen. The man nodded and made eye contact for a brief moment. She returned the gaze quizzically. This man was rather handsome… He smelled very pleasant and was well groomed despite his chiseled features. His hair was long by men’s standards and it radiated a deep brown hue. He wore a relatively bland button up shirt with western style pockets. His pleated slacks were clean and pressed. His demeanor spoke of a well disciplined and focused outlook. He seemed rather confident in himself and when he spoke, the words were smooth. “Coming here on business?” he questioned.
Alizee didn’t know how to respond. After all he could have looked at the paper. I was in French so she wasn’t worried too much. But what if he spoke French? Her paranoia was getting the best of her, and she forced her panic down.
“Désolé, excusez-moi !” she replied, hoping that the French would throw him off. He stood there just smiling. She though, good maybe he’ll leave me alone now…
“Parlez-vous Français?” he timed perfectly. A shock streaked across her face quickly covered by a hesitating a smile. “Pardon, Monsieur...” she ended. Alizee walked off then, glancing at the paper… it wasn’t in French but English. Her command of the English language was good, some would even think that she was from Louisiana by her accent, but her reading of some of the more complicated words was a bit troublesome. The paper read ‘I can’t help but not notice you. Would you care for dinner?’ There was a number on it too.
Earlier that day, she’d taken a taxi to the bus station where she waited for her route to Boston. Watching the scenery go by through the bus window, she could not help but think about France, how she loved the country there. It was a stark contrast to where she was now, but alluring at the same time. She thought about Trystine, about her innocence. Somehow Alizee managed to separate her longings from her realities. When she was away on ‘business’ she turned into a killer, she was calculated, refined and patient. But when she was at home with Trystine, she was giddy, happy, and anxious. It was like she had become two different people. All she could hope for was that the previous would die with the last one. Then she could move on and pursue her dreams. Dreams! What dreams? She had been so consumed with her vendettas that she never thought about her future. Before she knew it, the quiet darkness took her.
+ + +
After looking over the preliminary reports, Jim realized that every single victim in the file was military. But from what branch and why was there nothing on these guys’ records? It was all confusing to him. He had to figure this out. He turned to his computer and clicked an icon. Groupwise mail opened and he began to fill in the address. As he typed out his message, he also mumbled what he was typing; it was sort of a habit that allowed him to keep his train of thought while using email.
“My friend, informer… I seek information on 5 people that have come up dead in my case. Could you please see why these people’s military careers have been erased?” He paused for a moment. “And if you are interested, I’ll be in DC this weekend, you can reach me at 555-5785. Attached is the list of the 5 men I need information on.”
“Pee Ess, can you tell me if you find anything what platoon or squad they belonged to as well as getting the rest of the names on that list?” He stopped to tap his chin. “Thanks, I owe you one.”
Jim got up and grabbed his suitcase, car keys and a few other things; he had a road trip to go on and wanted to get a head start. It was a long drive from Langley to Washington.
+ + +
She heard the screams again, and the guns… the men were hitting her mother. She heard herself say “ils daddy?” then the man closest to her say “Shit up Bitch!” and moved over to her wielding a rifle. He didn’t point it at her, but instead hit her with it. She heard her dad, heard gun shots. The whimpering of her mother echoed through the darkness. It was a wave washing ashore and breaking on the coast of her soul. She tried to get up but she couldn’t.
She was being pushed, shoved and suddenly she was awake. The man that stood above her, towering, was trying to wake her. The bus had stopped and when she got up, she realized that they were already in Boston, at the bus terminal. The bus driver explained to her that she had slept the whole trip. He’d pulled into the terminal and unloaded everyone and even took a fifteen minute break for a smoke, thinking she would wake and get her belongings… But she was still there, snoring away, in a deep trance of her nightmares.
Quickly composing herself, Alizee grabbed her suitcase and walked out of the terminal. She walked a lot and it was not a nuisance to walk a few blocks to find a motel. She checked in and for the next few days, studied the motel and everyone that came and went. She was getting the feel of the area, and started to figure out her best course of escape incase she needed to run. She did that everywhere she went. There were a few close calls, because of her disciplined habits and keen sense of intuition, Alizee was able to disappear when those times arose.
Spending countless hours monitoring the address where her package was delivered, Alizee was convinced that nobody suspected anything unusual. She picked up the rifle and went to a remote area of the country to inspect the weapon. Time for a little target practice her mind went on. Assembly of the rifle was easy, she managed to beat her all time record of having that thing ready in less than 7 seconds. Not that speed meant anything… if she were in a situation where it would warrant speed, she’d just use a pistol instead. After all, she didn’t have anything to loose… Or did she? The question smacked her in the face. Lately, she’d been subsiding in her vindications. She found that she was becoming more and more normal in her constant battle of hatred and remorse. Remorse was winning and she felt good about that. With each kill, Alizee was in fact killing off demons that plagued her. As of late the dreams have been less consistent and with each dream, she’d remembered more. It was all coming together for her. She would start here, move to her 3 other marks and then go back to France. Still though, she still could not determine if she had been tracked through out this ordeal. Always looking over her shoulder and wondering if she had been made. It was a tickle at the back of her throat that kept her alert. She had grown accustomed to it, but lately that tickle had become more of a chap.
She had a few weeks to stage his retirement plans. He was up for re-election and his campaign was starting soon, she planned to take him on one of these occasions. As she sat there and thought about the encounter, she played out in her mind all of the aspects of the event, how they would occur and where she would be when they occurred. The cool temperature of the rifle’s muzzle rested on her cheek. She had not fired it yet. It smelled clean, well oiled, just as she had left it when it was placed in the box. She admired its perfection, it was meant to do one thing, and it did it well. She was almost jealous though… If this PSG-1 had a soul, it would never question its existence. I would know exactly what to do and how to do it. There were no gray areas it was all black and white to Mr. PSG-1. Glancing at the rifle, she knew that it would perform as a surgeon would. Slightly modified to fit a 10 centimeter suppressor, the barrel was shortened enough to compensate for the extra weight. She eyed the apple it wasn’t moving atop the rock she’d placed it on. Just under 400 meters, the apple was completely oblivious to its eminent death. A few adjustments and the image was in focus.
She could feel the tension in the trigger, could hear it speaking to her. It beckoned her to release it. To allow it to do what it was meant for. Steady now, she thought. The rifle pleaded at this point, I wanted to fulfill its destiny, and she knew that with her intervention, it would succeed. She smiled at that. The thought of this thing having a soul made her giggle a little, it was rather silly even. But the contrast to what it was, made the thought intriguing. She squeezed the trigger and felt the rifle slightly kick. Smoke came from the barrel she peered through the scope to see a now destroyed apple on a rock. Wait? She didn’t even register the sound… the whisper if its release under shadowed the recoil and its reloaded chamber. Her smile went wide. She picked up the spent cartridge and dismantled the rifle. I have to give you a bath later, she thought.