"Hey, man" Richmond Valentine leaned in towards the billionaire across the table. "Do you think I should a bodyguard too?" He nodded towards the burly man in the suit, who blended into the corner remarkably well.
"You mean you don't have one, Mr. Valentine?"
"Nope" he spread his arms "I always kinda thought it would hurt my image, but with all the new business I've been doing recently, I've been attracting a lot more attention."
"Oh, but you're so popular, Mr. Valentine!"
"But that's just it! See, when I was just a faceless billionaire, no one cared if I lived or died, right? No offence." he quickly added "But now that people know who I am, if some psycho wanted to get famous, he'd just have to bump me off and have his face on the cover of every newspaper and magazine in the country. In the world, if the deals I'm working on come through"
"That's a very good point, Mr. Valentine. We don't want another Mark David Chapman getting his hands on you. Mr. Schoppa" he beckoned and the bodyguard stepped forward. "Do you happen to remember the number of the agency you came from?"
"Yes, I do. Would you like me to write it down on this hamburger wrapper for you, Mr. Valentine?"
"Thanks, man."
After Mr. Schoppa was done, Richmond Valentine put the wrapper in his pocket, seemingly oblivious to the grease stains it was covered in. Of course he already had countless hundreds of people working for him, both in his legitimate company and in his covert operation, but there was something different about having a bodyguard. They'd just be so present. It would be like having a roommate again, but one who was prepared to die for him. They wouldn't really have to, though, just stand there and look vaguely threatening.
Comforted by that thought, he called the agency the next day to make an appointment. Of course, they had no problem accommodating him, and that weekend, he was driven to the gym to watch the contenders. He stepped through the double doors, and before the owner could even walk over to greet him, the decapitated head of a training manikin flew across the room and landed directly at his feet.
"What the fuck" he immediately looked in the direction the head had come from, as the other people training had backed away from the culprit, standing all the way across the room. Even if they hadn't, she would have been easy to spot. Her legs were the first things he saw; how could they not be? Metallic and sharp, they seemed to gleam dangerously, even while she stood perfectly still. His eyes travelled upwards from where her deadly feet disappeared under her baggy, standard issue training uniform, to the light brown skin, black hair, and severe expression on her face.
"Did you do that?"
She cocked an eyebrow, and he realized how stupid the question sounded, especially as he realized the manikin in front of her was missing a head.
He walked towards her. "What's your name?"
"Gazelle" she replied sharply, holding out her hand. He shook it, unsurprised at how firm her grip was.
"Do you-I mean, can you—Can I see you do more of that?"
She cast a quick glance at the manager, and Valentine caught the anxious look on his doughy face. "Don't worry, I'll pay for the damage." Valentine added quickly.
"All right, then. Go for it, Gazelle."
Everyone in the gym quickly flattened themselves against the walls, and Valentine followed suit. Gazelle glanced at the manager, who gave her a slight nod. Without any further prompting, she sliced off the hand of a nearby manikin, and after that, it was nearly impossible to follow her movements. The plastic limbs, ears, and noses littered the floor, as she kicked and flipped, sliced and hacked her way through the room. As the last manikin fell to the ground, in two symmetrical halves, she turned to face Valentine. "All right, Mr. Valentine?"
"Yeah, yeah. I mean, that was…whoa."
"Do I have the job?"
"Yes, of course! We'll have to go over a few details, but yes, absolutely."
She nodded towards the manager. "I think Mr. Peay wants to talk to you. I'll see you when you're done." She turned with a flip of her hair and strode away gracefully.
Valentine turned towards Mr. Peay, who looked even more distressed than before.
"Mr. Valentine" he took his arm and led him to his private office, having to kick away the stray arm and ear on the way. "Mr. Valentine, it's no doubt that Gazelle is talented; in fact, she's probably the best athlete who's ever trained here, but I'm afraid I can't recommend her as a bodyguard."
"And why's that?"
"Well, as I'm sure you've noticed, she can be a bit of a loose cannon. I think she'd be bored in a job that might never require her to use her abilities, and I think you might have some difficulty keeping her out of trouble. On top of that, all things considered, she doesn't exist. Believe me, I've tried, but I can't even find her real name, let alone anything about her family or where she comes from." He laughed. "Frankly, the only job I could really recommend her for would be a paid assassin."
Valentine smiled. Perfect.
"Well, thank you for your concern, Mr. Peay, but I think I can handle it. I'll be sure she always has plenty to do."
"Of course, Mr. Valentine, if you're sure. You know, this was the first time I've seen Gazelle smile at a perspective client, let alone show off for one. Maybe you will be a good influence on her." He pressed a button on the intercom. "You can come up, Gazelle."
She walked in almost immediately, and Valentine made a mental note that she liked listening in at keyholes.
"Well, I'll leave you to it." Mr. Peay shuffled out of the office, as Gazelle took his chair.
"So, Gazelle." Valentine paused, not quite knowing what to ask. "What makes you want to work for my company?"
She gave that slight smile again. "Would you believe it's because I like your phones?"
"No, I wouldn't. I mean, you could be working for the CIA if you wanted."
"Government doesn't interest me."
"You don't think you'd be bored as a bodyguard?"
"Mr. Valentine, I somehow think that what you're doing is about something more than phones."
"Yeah, we're working on all kinds of new technologies-"
"That's not quite what I meant."
"I don't know what you mean, Gazelle."
"I could be wrong, but there are rumors, and computers can be hacked. I have to say, whatever it is you're doing, you have been good at hiding it. I've hardly gotten any really relevant information. And don't worry about this room, by the way, it's not bugged, and Peay is too far away to hear anything."
"How much do you know?"
She leaned back. "As I say, you've been good at covering it all up. Literally all I know is that you're on your way to having a meeting with most every major politician and businessman in the world, and when you do, you send their bodyguards away. There have been a few cryptic references to your environmental work, but that's all I really have to go on. And Mr. Valentine, if you are planning something, I would recommend you hire me."
"And why's that?"
"Well, if someone finds out, or if someone gets in your way, I can deal with them better than anyone else. Besides, it's entirely possible that if you don't hire me, someone who doesn't like you will, and if that's the case…" She stretched her leg a tiny bit, but it was enough to make the metal shine menacingly. "All your money isn't going to help you."
He found himself smiling, in spite of himself. She was good. Better yet, she was direct, a quality he found lacking in most everyone he had dealt with recently.
"I understand completely. How much do you want a week?"
The figure she named was remarkably low, and he agreed to it immediately.
"Now, I have an extra room in my house where I was thinking my bodyguard would live, but if you're not comfortable with that, then we can come up with another arrangement."
"No, I really don't care. Your house has a gym, doesn't it?"
"And a pool."
"Good. I can do all my training there and not have to come back here."
"Well, that's perfect. I'll be back tomorrow with the contract."
"Don't bother, I can come to you. Does 5:30 work? PM?"
"All right. I like it."
She nodded curtly and walked toward the door.
"One more thing" he stopped her. "When you…do your thing, is there a lot of blood."
She smiled, the first real smile he saw her give. "Oh yes, Mr. Valentine. But no fingerprints, obviously, so it can't be traced."
"That's great and all, but you see, I've got this thing about blood. Like, I take one look at it, and I just lose it, I mean, I am gone" he accompanied the statement with an appropriate hand gesture.
"I'm sure we can find a way around that, Mr. Valentine. And thank goodness you weren't born with a uterus."
They walked of the office together, and as he settled things with Peay, he congratulated himself on the perfect choice he had made.
