Heartless
Chapter One
The man is wearing a black suit with a neatly ironed tie. He walks with a slight limp on the right. The cane he is using glistened slightly under the dim light, the gold handle shimmering.
Professional.
Cold.
"Take a seat," he gives her a tight smile.
She complies without flinching, her eyes never leaving his.
"Midas," she greets him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his apparent lack of creativity.
"Maleficent," her name rolls from his tongue, leaving a rather bitter taste hanging in the air. "We have a new job for you."
"Of course." Why else would you call me here?
He slides a picture over and she picks it up.
"Brian Roid, more commonly known as 'the Tank'."
"I didn't know you were interested in street gangs now," she said, a unfeeling smile flitters over her lips.
He ignores her remark. "Name your price."
She hums, looking at the picture once more. "100 000 now, another 300 000 after the job."
"Goliath wants it clean." He slides the money over.
"Of course." She takes the crisp bills in her hands and puts them into her bag after counting.
"It's… nice meeting you."
"Likewise."
She stands up and leaves, her heels clicking against the floor, echoing.
…..
Tracking Brian Roid wasn't difficult. He is arrogant and vain, showing off every moment he has a chance to. He often frequents The Laughable Tavern, which is indeed laughable. It is a sleazy pub, filled with drunkards and low ranking gangsters. Maleficent doesn't understand why would Goliath want Roid dead. He seems harmless, crazily annoying at most.
Still, it isn't her job to ask questions. All she has to do is corner him and pull the trigger.
She gags as she walks along the vomit cover pavements to the pub. She is glad that she has swapped her five-inch stilettoes for a pair of old sneakers she felt no love for.
"Fuck me. Fuck me right here. Now," a scantily clad woman who looks barely eighteen moans, straddling a man thrice her age. He gives a grunt and slams her back against the wall.
That must have hurt.
Maleficent shudders. All she wants is to finish this goddamn job and have a nice long steamy bath when she gets home.
She checks the time. Two in the afternoon. Roid should be inside the bar.
She continues walking, this time keeping her eyes straight. No looking sideways. She doesn't want to see anymore disgusting PDA.
A few more blocks and she will be there. Just a few more blocks and she can go home. Just a few-
Someone lands in front of her feet. It's a man with ink black hair that reaches his collarbones.
"Move," she commands.
"What?" Ah. So he is Irish.
"You are in my way. Would you please move?"
He scrambles up. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry."
She rolls her eyes and continues her walk.
"What is a lady like you doing in such a neighbourhood?" he asks, running to catch up with her.
"It's none of your business," she says, her voice clipped and cold.
He hums. "You'd better be careful around here. Lotsa crazy stuff."
He really doesn't know when to back off.
She decides to ignore him. Maybe he would leave her alone.
He continues his ramblings, talking about the weather, the grass that grew near the sidewalk, yadda yadda.
"Why are you following me?" she hisses, glaring at him. If he screws her job up, she will kill him.
He blinks. "I'm not following you. I'm going to The Laughable Tavern, right there around the corner."
What?
She frowns but says nothing.
She watches him enter the tavern and she sighs, slipping to the back alley.
Now she has to wait for Roid to get his drunken ass out of the bar and into the alley for his 3.30 piss.
She slides her Glock from the holster at her thigh and loads it.
2.40
2.50
3.00
3.10
A man is shoved out of the back door, his forehead bleeding.
Brian emerges behind that bleeding man with dark hair, his face twisted in a smile.
"Still not able to pay up eh," he sneers.
"I promise you that I will pay you ASAP," the bleeding man pleads.
"The hell you will." Roid grips him by the collar, lifting him up into the air. "Fuck you," he spits and the man went flying across, landing on his back with a painful crunch.
Before the man could recover, Roid kicks him in the stomach.
Maleficent winces a little. If Roid continues doing whatever he's doing, the poor man would be dead.
She sighs and lifts her gun, aiming for his head.
Roid crumbles down, his body collapsing onto the bleeding man.
Maleficent walks out from the shadows, tucking her gun safely back into it's holster.
"Y-You killed him!" the bleeding man half shouts, shoving Roid off his body. He… Is he that annoying man that literally fell at her feet? "Oh my god. Y… You killed him!"
She rolls her eyes. "Enough with the dramatics."
"You killed a man!" he stage whispers, panic written all over his pale face.
"I saved your life," she raises an eyebrow.
He looks down on his newly blood stained shirt.
"What have you done to my beautiful self?" he asks, hurt creeping into his voice.
"You almost died and all you can think about is your shirt," she gives him a deadpanned expression.
"It's my favourite," he murmurs.
"Are you helping me or what," she is growing impatient.
"What?"
"In case you haven't noticed, I have a dead body to dispose."
Panic returns to his face and she knows that he is going to have a breakdown.
"What is your name?" she commands.
"D-Diaval?"
"Diaval, I need you to listen to me. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out."
He nods tentatively and follows her instruction, composure returning to him.
"I know you are very intelligent, Diaval. I need you to follow my instructions."
They drag the body into a bag and dump it in her car before driving off.
"Where are you taking me?" he asks, a little afraid of what's to come.
"I'm showing you how to dispose a body. Professionally."
The car stops and she took the bag out. Carefully, she spreads sheets of plastic onto the ground and took a huge knife out of her bag.
"If you are queasy, I suggest you do not look."
Diaval cocks his head in confusion but as she strikes down on the corpse, realisation dawns on him.
"I'm ok."
"Good boy."
She finishes the business quickly, dumping the body parts into the bag.
"Strip," she states, looking at him.
He doesn't move, staring at her in confusion. Did she just asked him to-
"I said strip," she sighs and peels off her black dress.
Oh. He blushes crimson, turning his head away. He strips himself of his blood stained clothes, trying his very best not to sneak peeks at the beautiful woman who is currently almost naked.
She pulls out a hoodie from her handbag-how many things can she fit in there?-and passes it to him. He wears it. It smells of earth and springtime.
She puts on another dress and leads him to a small incinerator near the building. Opening it up, she dumps the bag containing body parts and their clothes.
"Done. All clear," she shrugs and pulls out her phone. The package has been delivered.
"Who are you?" Diaval asks, his eyes wide in both fear and awe.
Her lips curl into a smirk. "Maleficent, assassin."
"Maleficent," he echoes. He likes her name, how it rolls off his tongue, how it has a bitter yet sweet after taste. He likes it.
"Now, Diaval," she looks at him in the eyes, entrapping him. "I have saved your life."
"Yes you have."
She smiles.
He gulps.
"You have a debt to pay."
"You will be my assistant from today. Do not worry about accommodation or food. All will be provided for. Your job is very simple. Do what I say. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Diaval manages a small smile, the gears in his brain twisting and turning.
An assassin. That will make a really, really good idea for a story.
"Diaval?"
"Yes Maleficent?"
"Tell me about yourself."
"I am a novelist. Stop snorting! Fine. I am a future novelist…"
They get into the car and she drives off into the sunlight.