Awkward. Extremely awkward.
As Simon tried to focus his eyes on the wet, slippery road while his hands rested on the wheel, he couldn't be at ease as he could feel Zena's watchful eyes beside him.
"Stop staring at me." He commanded, but she didn't listen. Instead, she started laughing. This infuriated him even more.
"So, what's up with you and my best friend, huh?" She asked; a huge smirk on her face. He didn't respond hoping that she would stop with the questions. However, knowing his cousin, she wouldn't care about other people's feeling or about reading the heavy atmosphere - if she wanted something, she would get it.
She continued, "I mean I love you, and I love my best friend too. But if you hurt her I swear, Simon, I will-"
"I don't know her; better yet I know nothing about her. That's all there is to it." He responded coldly, and he felt relief as he could see the mansion a block away - a few more minutes before he could get away from his cousin, who decided not to stop there.
"Then why did you kiss her?" Zena asked - curiosity evident from her twinkling eyes.
This question stopped him dead in his tracks.
Why did he do it?
Flashback came to him as fast as lightning as he remembered what occurred in the cafe an hour ago as he went to pick up his cousin.
"May I take your order?" A calm, feminine voice asked as he sat on the corner of the cafe, waiting for Zena.
He turned around expecting his cousin to be pulling off some sort of prank when he saw the crimson-haired woman he met yesterday. This took him by complete surprise - the mysterious, alluring chipmunk holding a gun had turned into a pretty-looking waitress asking for his order. However, as she turned around with the full intention of running away, he felt something inside him - Pain.
When she turned around, it promptly reminded him of that unforgettable day seven years ago, when Priscilla had decided to break up with him; the way she looked when she was saying those painful words, and the way she turned her back at him as to run away from hope itself - he felt like he was reliving that very exact moment.
So this time, he didn't let her go away.
This time, he wouldn't. He couldn't.
So he kissed her.
Their lips touched, and in an instant everything didn't matter. He recalled his few affairs with English chipmunks back in Cambridge, but those few rounds of loveless sex couldn't compare with the tender kiss he was sharing right now with this mystical chipmunk.
It didn't last long though, because as soon he realized what he had done, she quickly pulled away and slapped him right across his face.
He was speechless at everything that had happened, and before he could react she ran away.
"We're here." He said coldly, as he applied the brakes and parked on front of the main residence. Without waiting for his cousin he came out of the car and went straight into his room, where he felt like he could quietly die in peace.
She hates him.
She hates his guts, his boldness - hell, even his magnificent, God-given glorious looks. He was a witness; a pesky witness that she foolishly let go. Now he dared kiss her.
She should have shot him.
"Aris."
She froze.
There are only two things she fears in this world.
One - The Ocean, or any particular bodies of water.
Two - The chipmunk named Barclay.
To the public, Barclay was known to be an old chipmunk residing in the suburban side of Denver with billions of money to spare and no heir to share the wealth with. To the public, he took in a six-year-old orphan, he named her Aris, to become his inheritor and become her father figure. However, only a number of people knew of his real identity, and all of them have secrets of their own.
They didn't know about a secret organization called Midnight Society - or its very deadly existence.
Instead of living in a typical middle class household where a normal child would have lived, Aris resided in an underground manor where she was taught to hold knives and disarm weapons. Her toys weren't Barbie dolls or stuff bears, but rifles and pistols. She didn't go to high school, but was tutored right at home, where she was taught not only the basic curriculum, but also the ways of executing a person.
Now, at age twenty-five, she had killed more than enough people than she could count. It wasn't so bad though, as all the people she had killed had a bad agenda behind them - rapists, killers, unjust politicians, illegal drug lords, and much more. Barclay was the face behind Midnight Society.
-The largest, most hunted assassin organization in the country; her family.
Barclay was an old man now, in his sixty-third year of existence. He was a cold man, but he took care of her.
"How have you been?" Barclay asked, his voice low and commanding.
Aris swallowed.
"I've finished my last mission. Joseph Seville had been terminated." She answered, and looked straight at those haunting pair of gray eyes. She knew how well this conversation worked. Aris knew that if she looked away after answering his question, he'd know that she had messed up. When she was nineteen and had let her target get away, when he asked that same question she averted from his eyes. Her target was reported killed from a "car accident" the next day, but she knew it was one of her "family" that had finished the mission for her. Barclay had found out what happened and not only was the target dead, his wife and two daughters were wiped out as well.
She hated herself from that moment on, as she knew it was her fault. If she had only terminated her target, the wife and the daughters would still be alive.
It was her fault.
"I see." Barclay replied, and walked away.
She hated lying to him, but she had no choice after all. If Barclay had found out that there was a witness, and she had let him get away, Barclay would fix my mistake; which means killing the witness, and worst - the witness' family as well.
Aris was definitely enraged at Simon Seville's action this evening, but deep down she knew that he didn't deserve to die; bitter torture for kissing her - now that's justified punishment, but death was out of the question. He hasn't done anything to deserve death - not to her knowledge anyway.
Besides, she doesn't want to repeat the same thing that happened before.
"I have to do something." She thought, and ran out.
I have to do something before it's too late.
Simon had been lying on his bed, shirtless, for the past two hours. His eyes were closed, but his wrinkled forehead revealed that he was still awake.
"How can I sleep?" He thought. Today was heck for him after all, no questions asked.
Simon groaned.
He opened his eyes and looked up straight into the white, marble ceiling.
"How could someone look so much like... Jeanette." He thought. "She saved me too, from that killer. I don't know what she is or what she does but..." He scrunched his forehead.
He knew that she was dangerous, that girl. At first glance he knew she wasn't a normal chipmunk - besides, the pistol she was holding last night was proof that she wasn't just a waitress at a local cafe . She was dangerous... but...
"I want to see her again."
He got up from his bed. "Might as well get some work done." He told himself, and opened up the suitcase filled with paperwork that Wilson warned him not to bring. As he began signing the contract document with Phlox Oil Company, he suddenly felt the wind blow. As he looked to his right, he noticed his windows were opened.
They weren't opened before.
Something wasn't right, he thought. When he walked over to the window, he popped his head out to check if someone was there, and noticed nothing different - just a normal, windy night in Denver.
As Simon closed the windows, he failed to notice the red strand of hair stuck between the rears of the glass, or the woman on top of the roof discreetly watching over him.
"Are you certain about the location this time?"
The chipmunk on the line asked, his hoarse voice shaking with excitement.
"Yes sir. We are certain that the person in question had been spotted right here in the United States." A womanly voice answered.
"Excellent." The chipmunk on the line felt relief for the first time in a very long time. He had been looking for Crimson since he could remember - this time, he might actually find her.
"We have rounded up the last three places the target had been through." The chipmunk continued. "It is most certain that Crimson had finally arrived in Denver, Colorado at exactly forty-five hours after her departure in New York."
"I'm on my way then." The chipmunk on the line responded.
"Be careful, Kingston. You may be the best person for the job right now, but it will be a huge loss for us if you died too." She stated with concern.
He gave a hearty laugh.
"I won't die easily, Betsy. And even if I did, the Central Intelligence can always find a substitute." He said in response.
"You must be successful this time, Kingston. No one had ever seen her face nor does she have any record. Maybe the others had already seen her but... you already know what happened to them, right?"
Silence.
"Yes." Kingston said his goodbye and put the phone down.
What a hell of a job, he thought to himself. Kingston shuffled through the documents in front of him and found a tiny piece of paper that sparked his interest.
With a phone in his hand, he dialed the number and it began to ring.
"Hello?" The person on the other line picked up.
Kingston smiled.
"Simon, it's me. Kingston - Derek Kingston."