Half of the names on the list had already been crossed off. If there was one thing I was good at, it was my job. Of course, in this case, blackmail had helped to motivate me to get the assignment finished as quickly and skilfully as possible. And, of course, there was also the fact that there was a superhero vigilante meta-human protecting Central City from any and all criminals. Thankfully, so far, I'd managed to evade any surprise meetings with the Scarlet Speedster, and I was certain I hadn't left anything behind to link me to the murders. I was a professional after all, I'd been at the top of my field for years, the rich man's go-to-girl for assassinations. This, however, was the biggest and riskiest job I'd ever done. Twenty six names, all in the same city. That amount of unexplained deaths was sure to attract attention. Luckily, I'm very good at making it look like an accident. Leaking gas pipe, car accident, overdose, suicide… it was easy to divert suspicion from murder, subsequently removing the possibility of a murderer, and keeping me in the clear.
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair and falling ungracefully back onto the bed. Another long day in the life of Manea. That was one of the better nicknames I had been given over the years, before I'd retired, or at least tried to. This wasn't the kind of game you can get out of. Once you were in, you were in for life. It's difficult to turn your back on it when you had become it. It wasn't just a job, it had changed me. I had become this monster, calm and calculating, invisible and deadly. The nickname was quite fitting really, meaning I'd opted to embrace it. Manea, goddess of the dead, an apt description of myself and my work.
Relaxing back into the bed I pushed the events of the day to the back of my mind, another assassination executed perfectly. It was time to go over the details of my next mark, he would die tomorrow. Isaac Cross. CEO of Ideocorp technologies, 43 years old, a wife named Elizabeth Cross, 2 adult children, Florence and Ronnie Cross, a large apartment on Robertson Street. He had a string of mistresses, unbeknownst to poor Elizabeth. I didn't know why this man was on the list, and honestly that wasn't my business. I was sent to do a job, and I was going to complete it. My plan for tomorrow continued to play on a loop in my head, eventually lulling me into a deep dreamless sleep.
The phone on the table beside me began to emit its incessant and grating alarm, dragging me unwillingly from my sleep. 6:30am, time to get ready for the day ahead. I pulled myself from the soft sheets of my bed, making my way to the bathroom for a quick shower before donning my usual black jeans and tank top. I spent the majority of the day going over the details of the hit in my head, ensuring everything would go smoothly. I'd tracked his movements thoroughly, ensuring I knew exactly where he would be at any given time. Thankfully he followed a strict schedule, making my job all too easy. He would leave home at 8am every morning, drive into the city and arrive at work at 8:45am, where he would park in the underground lot before taking the elevator to his office on the 20th floor. I decided it wouldn't be efficient to take him out during this time, waiting for the opportune moment after he left work. Luckily for me, every Tuesday he stayed behind late, the last in the office, giving him some alone time with his current mistress, his secretary Rose Lane. Rose always left the office five minutes before Mr. Cross, giving me the perfect opportunity to make my move. Confident in my plan, I glanced at the clock on the wall, the time reading 8:30pm. 9:30-9:35pm was my slot. I couldn't miss it. I hopped up from my seat, dressing myself in my usual outfit. Black jeans with black leather boots, paired with a black tank top and maroon hooded coat which fell to just above my knees. Buttoned straps crossed over my chest, fastening the coat in place. I stood facing my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my soft white blonde curls tumbling over my shoulders, falling to just above my navel. Admittedly having hair this long was inconvenient in my line of work, but i'd learned to work around it, refusing to get it cut. After pulling on a pair of maroon leather gloves, I lifted my matching mask up to my face, securing it over my eyes. I draped the large hood over my head, shielding my face even more, ensuring the complete protection of my identity. Positive in my preparedness, I gathered my weapons, storing them hidden upon my person. I had chosen suicide for this particular victim, a bullet to the head. The stress of being the CEO of a major corporation could easily allow motivation for that. I secured the gun in the holster on my thigh, covering it with my coat before turning on my heel and leaving my apartment, the door swinging closed behind me.
The building was easy enough to get into, using a service door at the back and taking the stairs up to the 20th floor, thereby avoiding all cameras. However the cameras on the 20th floor were a different story, unavoidable, but easily disabled. Taking care of the cameras, I made sure to move through the shadows of the empty building, making my way to Isaac Cross's office. I waited patiently, darkness shrouding me and keeping me hidden from sight, until Rose Lane stumbled out through the glass doors. I surveyed the woman as she fixed her dishevelled appearance, buttoning up her cream blouse before leaving the office. Recognising this as my chance, I made my way silently through the open office door, gaining the attention of my target.
"Who the hell are you?!" the man exclaimed, stumbling backwards, placing his desk between the two of us. Ignoring his question, I stalked towards him, calm and focused.
"Don't come any closer!", his voice was steady, carefully attempting to mask the fear that unfortunately was clearly apparent on his face. In a feeble attempt at an escape, he leapt around the side of the desk opposite to me, stumbling over his feet as he headed towards the door. Unfortunately for him, I was much faster and had easily predicted his intentions. Moving swiftly in front of him I grabbed his arm, smoothly swiping my leg under his, sending him toppling to the ground whilst I stood above him. Crouching down slowly, I removed a small but deadly sharp knife from my person, holding it against his throat, with just enough pressure to cause discomfort.
"Mr. Cross, if you would so kindly make your way over to your desk and take a seat, it would be much appreciated", my words were laced with threat, but were calm and steady. Slowly rising from his position on the ground, the man made his way to the desk, trembling as he took his seat. Gracefully propping myself against the desk in front of him, I removed the gun from its holster.
"What do you want? Money? I'll give you whatever you want…", the man stammered, his voice shaking despite his clear efforts to appear calm. I smiled, holding out the gun towards him. Taking his hand, I placed the gun into his palm before directing it at his temple. I'm sure he begged for his life at this point, they always do, but whatever pleas he choked out were silenced by the crack of the gunshot. I rose from my seat, mentally crossing another name of the list and ready to make my exit when the sound of police sirens pulled me from my thoughts. Silent alarm. Somehow I'd managed to overlook something so simple as a panic button on his desk. Mentally reprimanding myself for my mistake, I hurried out of the office and back into the shadows of the hallway, towards the staircase. I made it to the bottom of the stairs quickly and easily, no trouble avoiding the officers currently searching the building. I felt relief wash over me as I exited through the service door and out into the night, prematurely allowing myself to let my guard down. Everyone has their off nights. A flash of yellow light darted past me, knocking me off my feet and momentarily stunning me. I quickly pulled myself back up, noticing a figure standing in front of me. The Flash.
We stood facing each other, both holding our ground. I quickly and silently pulled a blade from my coat, arming myself against the man.
"How about we make this easy for both of us and you just come with me", the hero suggested, his words playful but his tone dark. I smiled at his words, spinning the blade expertly in my hand and taking a step towards him.
"Where would be the fun in that?"
A blur of light rushed towards me, sending me tumbling to the ground once again. Recovering quickly, I turned towards the red blur, working to anticipate his next move. Fortunately, this was something I was quite skilled at. Predicting what he would do next, I readied myself. Dodging the speedster as he whipped past my left side, I spun expertly on my heel lashing out with the blade, catching him across his chest and sending him skidding into a nearby wall. Taking his distraction at his wound as my chance, I hurried through the dark alleyway behind the building, swiftly pulling myself over a wall and into the darkness once again. I'd been sloppy tonight, I'd been seen, I'd almost been caught, probably left behind evidence. I'd have to leave it a little while before the next hit, let the heat die down. Despite this, I grinned to myself as I escaped into the night, ignorantly proud that I'd managed to escape the superhero of Central City. Not much of a superhero if you ask me.