HYPNOS
dark puck
This is a short little peice focusing on an assassin hired to terminate an international cyber-terrorist and what takes place during the hit...
There will be no follow-up; please do not ask for one.
Daylight hits.
Lezvie despised daylight hits.
There were too many risks involved, and not enough benefits. But her client had insisted that this be a daytime venture, so Lezvie had done all she could to hide her identity. Taking care of her rather distinctive hair was easy enough; she simply dyed it blonde and plaited it into scholgirl braids, which she then wound around her head and pinned into place. Well aware of her youthful face, she dressed in a style that would mark her as attending a local private school - with a few small differences, of course.
She had a Browning 9MM strapped to her thigh under the skirt, as well as knives hidden up either sleeve, ready to drop into her hands with a simple flick of her wrists. The pins in her hair were a bit longer than what was considered normal, and she could fling them with deadly accuracy. A combination of a sports bra and ace bandages flattened her enough that her guise as a pre-teen was all but perfect.
Her current identity was that of Kirsten Bjørnson, a second-generation Swedeish immigrant to the United States just going into the eighth grade at age twelve. She had not broken from that role until just now, on spotting her quarry.
He was a big man, especially when compared her her lack of height, but Lezvie had taken on bigger men and won. Something about this man, though, made her nervous. She wasn't sure if she could pull this off, and she hadn't doubted herself since her first hit.
Lezvie shuddered and continued climbing up the maintenance ladder to the roof of an abandoned fast-food restaraunt. Once there, she crept to the opposite side, peering down on her target and the woman he was conversing with as she drew her weapon, aiming carefully at the dark-skinned man.
Her finger pressed against the trigger... but she didn't fire. She couldn't fire. Something in her very being screamed against casually killing this man as she normally did.
No... that wasn't right. This man... something about him made her think that if she were to take his life, she would end up regretting it for the rest of her own. Which probably wouldn't be very long.
With a sigh, she holstered her pistol and rolled away from the edge, moving back to the other side of the building and climbing down the ladder again. She almost yelped in surprise when she turned around to see her target right behind her.
Morpheus.
"I would have aimed a little to the left."
Lezvie blinked. "...Excuse me?"
"I think you would have found that shot to be less than acceptable," Morpheus said.
He knew what she was, and would see through any innocent act she cared to pull, so she didn't bother to pull one. However, she didn't bother to keep her incredulity from her voice. "You came around to meet me so you could tell me my aim was off? I could kill you!"
The black man smiled. It was not a comforting expression. "You could try."
Lezvie paused, looking him over, and realised that she was actually afraid of this man. "I don't think that would be healthy," she replied slowly.
His smile grew broader before he started to walk off. Without thinking,
she blurted, "Just who'd you piss off? I've never been offered that much on a hit!"
He turned to give her an unreadable glance. "The answer to that would take too long to tell. You could say it was Hypnos, if you wished."
"Who the hell is Hypnos?"
"The father of Morpheus," Morpheus answered. Then he turned a corner and was gone.