Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
(c) Masashi Kishimoto & prologue inspired by book Undercover girl - Christine Harris.
Her stomach flopped. She hadn't been spotted by her target yet, but that could change in a second. He knew she was close. He knew she was watching him.
She looked to the left without turning her head. Passer-bys would just see an innocent-looking girl window-shopping in the mall. She checked her watch. She had to tag him in ten minutes.
"Got a dollar, miss?" a gruff voice rumbled into her ear, she looked up. A man with ratty dreadlocks and frayed fingerless 'hobo' gloves held out his hand. His eye were rimmed with red and skin crinkled. His eyeballs seemed too small for their sockets "Pick on someone your own size," She replied sourly before sending him a look that made him back away. She couldn't lose her target now. This was too important. Her first mission depended on it.
Again, she inspected the ever-changing crowd of shoppers. Yes there he was, black jeans, navy polo, dark sunglasses and midnight blue/black hair (gelled?) to look like a chicken's ass. He stopped, fingered a tomato from a fruit stand outside of a store while carefully scanning the people near him.
Then, he was on the move again, sauntering as if he had all the time in the world. But, he didn't. And both of them knew that.
She loosened her hair tie and fanned her long brunette hair behind her back, slipped off her jacket and flipped it, changing it to a deep sea blue colour matching her eyes which were following the target. She'd learnt at training, "change some about your appearance even if its little."
Casually, as if she were daydreaming, she strolled along the edge of the mall, beside shop windows. Instinctively she closed her hand around the taser in her pocket as she closed the gap between her and her target, always ready to aim.
The target quickened his pace and turned right into a post office. She went opposite , turned around and slipped on her sunglasses. The mirrored side strips allowed her to see behind her without turning around.
"How may I help you?"
She flicked a glance at the sales assistant who had tight lips and thick make-up.
"No thanks, just looking." She replied politely watching her target come out, go to a booth next to the lift and pay for a parking ticket.
"Hmmph, damn window shoppers, breathing all over the glass." The lady muttered under her breath, when she thought that she couldn't hear her.
Across the mall, the target pressed a button next to the lift. He checked his watch and scanned the people around him. Bet he thinks he's safe. Well, think again, chicken ass.
He stepped inside the lift and the doors slid shut. She eyed the numbers above the lift, G,..P1,..P2,..P2! She took the stairs and sprinted down two flights of stairs,-good thing she was athletic.
This was it.
She edged open the door, just a crack. It made only the slightest of sounds as the door opened. There he is, reaching into his pocket, probably for he's keys. Two minutes to go, maybe tree.
Taking a deep breath, she crouched and squeezed through the small gap of the partly opened door and let it click shut. Mouselike, she crept across the oil-stained floor towards her target. She flattened herself against the ground peering underneath the Mercedes beside her. Two legs covered by black pants stood on the other side. His shoes obviously expensive. On a lower level, car tires squealed as someone gunned the engine.
Suddenly, the lift 'pinged'. She heard the doors slide open, then voices. The man's feet spun to face the lift. She knew without looking that his hands would be in his pocket, his heart like hers would be pounding and he would be ready to lunge.
Children's voices, high and irritated echoed off the walls. A deeper, older but feminine voice snapped back, "Be quiet or I will take the toys back."
The man did not move. He stood rock-still, ready for anything. Was he wondering if the woman with children was his hunter?
She grabbed her taser from her pocket. Now! Get him while he's distracted!. She leapt to her feet. Instinctively, he turned and tired to duck. But he was just too slow. She squeezed the trigger. The gun was set to just enough voltage that it would make a person unconscious. A timer dropped from his hands with a clack. The man crumpled on the floor unconscious. His head met the ground with a thump.
She ran.
This has been re-edited. Originally posted early 2009.
