The rain was pelting against my helmet and trickling down my neck but I didn't mind. I love the rain. Everything is always fresh and clean after the rain. It washes away all dirt; even blood, even sins. I veered my pitch-black Ducati 848 through oncoming traffic and crossed into the dingy back streets of Brooklyn. I could see the huge neon sign for the nightclub 'The Cage' flashing in the distance, even through the torrential rain. Pulling into the alley adjacent to the rear of the club, I dismounted and pulled off my helmet, bracing for the onslaught of rain against my face. First checking the magazine and then the safety on my gun, I took a deep breath and stalked towards the graffiti-covered door.
At the rear of the nightclub a bouncer stared gloomily into the downpour. The pounding music was not helping his throbbing head – eerily the pounding and throbbing seemed to be in sync. All of a sudden a glossy black motorbike pulled into the alley. Frustrated, the bouncer readied himself to argue with yet another stranger that there was no way he was getting through the back entrance. To his surprise the person has a fluid and sensual silhouette, evident even beneath the leather. As they removed the helmet, he realized it was a woman. She crossed the distance towards the door and the bouncer was momentarily stunned. She was beautiful, but in a menacing way. She had straight deep chocolate brown hair and electric green, fiery eyes. Her lips were plump and blushed from the cold. Composing himself he stretched out a muscle corded arm and stopped her. "Sorry, but you can't enter from this end sweets. Front entrance only." The woman looked uninterested. "I'm sure you can make a special exception for me. Just this once," she purred. The bouncer shook his head. "Not a chance. I'll lose my job." The stranger stared into the bouncer's eyes, a smirk playing on her lips. Slowly she began to unzip her leather biker jacket, exposing an intricate pattern of black tattoos across her collarbones and arms. The bouncer blushed involuntarily. "My mistake, go on through." "Thanks" she smiled sweetly. A rush of noise overwhelmed them both as she walked through the door into the strobe lights and smoke of The Cage.
Walking into the club I could instantly tell it was over capacity. I mentally recapped my dossier – for this particular kill it didn't matter if I attracted attention. The aim was not to blend in, which was why I was exposing my tattoos. Everyone knew about the Shadowhunters – the totalitarian governments personal assassins. I am one of them. Standing on the platform overlooking the club below I scanned the warehouse layout for the target. The mass of bodies danced and grinded to the electronic dubstep style music, forming a sea of leather and metal. I saw demons, vampires, werewolves, and hybrids. The Cage was popular to all types of creatures. Making my way down the iron spiral staircase I found I didn't need to push my way through the crowd surrounding the bar. Once my tattoos came into view the people moved aside, scared that I was there for them. "One shot of vodka", I yelled to the barman over the pulsing music. As I knocked back the shot I scanned the crowd trying to find the man I was hunting. I knew from the dossier he would be in a group, as per usual on a Saturday night. I was also ordered to kill anyone who interfered with the mission. This would send an even better message to onlookers - submission to the governments' regime was inevitable. Resistance was punishable by execution. Through the smoke I was able to spot him, mentally thanking myself for the night vision rune I etched onto myself earlier. Making my way across the dance floor I discreetly pulled out my gun. A young man, no older than twenty, with electric red hair and a bull-ring nose piercing eyed me cautiously and when I returned his stare he coughed a quick 'I need to use the bathroom' to his friend. I stepped out into the VIP area and walked towards the man. He was twenty-nine years of age with curling blonde hair and hazel eyes. He was built like an Olympic swimmer, lean muscular waist with hulking broad shoulders and just as imposingly built arms. On a normal occasion I would have found him extremely attractive and probably invited him home. But this was business. Three strippers and several other men surrounded him. I stepped before him raising my gun to his face. His eyes locked with mine and at first they were filled with desire, then apprehension and finally terror. His eyes flicked to my face and then down the barrel of my gun. The stripper sitting on his lap began to scream and jumped off him just in time. I squeezed the trigger.
Stepping back out into the torrential downpour I pulled out my iPhone and dialed Ishmel's number. He answered on the third ring. "The job is done sir", I said. "Were there any complications?" he asked steadily. "No, when the rest of his party saw their leader's brains across the wall, they got the message. No one moved to attack me." I recalled the shocked faces of the other men, and the stripper's screams filled my ears but I felt nothing. No emotion, no remorse, no sense that what I was doing was anything but what needed to be done. I was trained that way. "Good. Come in tomorrow. I have another job for you. I have a meeting at ten in the morning so meet me in my office at eleven sharp." With that Ishmel hung up. I pocketed my phone and mounted the Ducati.
A/N
Hey fanfic world! So I've wanted to write a story for a while and this idea has been scribbled on paper for a few months now so I decided to try and turn it into a novel. The setting for Redemption is from the amazing Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare (if you haven't read it, I seriously suggest you check it out). My story however is set in the future where the Shadowhunters have been corrupted and it centres on the heroine Rayne. I really hope you enjoy it because I've loved transforming my idea into writing. Please be patient with me in regards to regular updates. I will do my best but I am a full time university student so sometimes I get pretty busy. Reviews make me happy, so please throw some at me, both good and bad. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Also, in case you are interested the song that inspired the club scene is Typoon by the Foreign Beggars.
Much love, Dana. X
P.s. For all you American readers out there, I'm from Australia so some spelling and grammar will be a bit different (e.g. centre vs center).