A massive thank-you to SunflowerChrysalis for teaching me about Ricin and Cyanide and medical stuff in general! She's awesome and she knows so many interesting things about our human bodies! And she's a great, encouraging friend!
Also, I fixed some mistakes in last chapter and thank you Guest for pointing it out! Chase has green eyes! I don't know why at some point I suddenly swapped it to blue. It's embarrassing to make such mistakes but thank you for pointing it out to me.
Prepare yourselves for a very long chapter. Enjoy.
Before I realize what I'm doing, Chase's mouth fills mine and a weird sensation of stiffness spreads inside me. I hear the guys burst in cheers and whoos in the background, but right now, my consciousness is filled with complete opposite feelings. A disgusting tingling hatches in my stomach when I feel his hand on my waist. Unfortunately, I'm the person standing higher, so I'm the one leading the kiss. I try with all I have to remain Theresa and not let Lucy escape, but I'm slipping through my own fingers. I find myself compromising with desperation: even if I am Theresa, there's a salmon haired boy, a stranger to her that occupies her mind. I allow him to exist. But the image comes along with a pang of guilt. I try to imagine the man I'm making out with is that beautiful stranger who makes me explode with butterflies and happiness. I try to pretend I like him. And it's so hard that I start sweating in disgust.
I have to remind myself that I'm only playing a role. Right now I'm not myself. So I have to resist. I've done this before, haven't I? I played with Gray being my husband in the last movie, so of course I'd kiss him from time to time. It's true that not like this, and certainly not while having a boyfriend. I become so frantic to resist the temptation to start yelling, that I find myself resorting to the ultimatum technique. It's what I do as an actress when I feel that I'm failing in grasping the character. I tell myself the story. The story that supposedly belongs to me.
My name is Theresa Gatwick. I'm a collage dropout looking for fun and medication for my broken heart. My ex was my middle school sweetheart and his dumping me left me with such a bleeding wound that I'm ready to do anything in order to forget him. I met Chase who's a dangerous gang leader and I feel very attracted to him.
Feeling how I'm losing track of thoughts and concentration, I resist wanting to push Chase away. This feels so wrong. I can't do this anymore. This is not how I'm supposed to be fighting for my life.
My fingers unconsciously tighten their grip around his hair, but he misunderstands and pushes harder in the passionate kiss. My lungs are screaming for air, but his seem to be screaming for me instead. Every passing second, I discover more and more weaknesses of Chase's. It only takes a kiss and I already know what to do to make him vulnerable.
My 'foot' slips again; I wonder if Natsu felt vulnerable when I kissed him to trick him a few days ago. I suddenly feel so bad for doing the exact same thing to him that I'm doing to a stranger, that I want to strangle myself. I feel so repulsing, so wicked, and so hideous, that I can't believe I've agreed to catch Chase by seducing him.
My body doing exactly the opposite of what my mind is saying, I give him the impression that I'm equally attracted to him. And he falls for it like a fool. Like the biggest fool on the planet. Of course. To him, I'm a broken hearted girl who asked him to make her forget. What else could he think?
If he realizes that I'm manipulating him, my entire plan could be destroyed. So it's high time I have to step back, letting him think that he's been the one controlling me the entire time.
I wake up to find my hands travelling his body, when I push him alarmed and start panting. I'm looking wide-eyed at him, shocked, stirred, excited, as if I don't know what just happened. In reality, I'm simply glad that I can part from his disgusting touch. Chase immediately smirks at me, taking all the credits for that 'incredible' kiss. I'm left speechless, blushed, and with half of my lipstick spread on or inside his mouth. There's a glimmer of being alive inside his eyes. I've managed to awaken his senses.
"Guys."
All heads turn to Peter, who's returned from the bathroom. I gladly direct my attention to him, incredibly impatient to finish my dirty job and get out of this sickening atmosphere. Surprise rises among the others when they see the white plastic bag Peter is holding subtly, only for us to see. As for me, I'm relieved to see the plan succeeded.
Among the silence, there's a short laughter of surprise.
"Where the hell did you find that?"
"In the freakin' trashcan." comes the scoffed response.
"What the hell?!"
"Who would freaking throw that?!"
"Let me see that," Chase orders shortly with a frown. He takes the bag and I don't move to give him space, still sitting on his lap. I look innocently at it.
"What is it?" I ask curiously.
"Cocaine." he answers after a while and I make eyes as big as plates.
"You're kidding me."
He doesn't reply as he's studying the bag carefully.
"This is Hugo's."
There's a stir of surprise. "What?!" Mike asks shocked. My heart stops for a second.
"You serious?!"
"Of course I am. Reece brought it and hid it at Hugo's place."
"Whoa, Chase." Mike interrupts with uneasiness, glimpsing at me "Should she be hearing this?"
"She won't tell." Chase sticks up for me. I go even further and play the excited Theresa.
"You're not seriously going to leave me out on this!" I exclaim standing up to emphasis my determination "Just when things are getting exciting! I came here for this! I want to be included in whatever is going on!"
"Still, this is really suspicious." Derrick states. "Why would Hugo throw it in the bar's trash? A bathroom one on top of it."
"Dude! Who cares! It means he didn't want it!" one of the targets says joyfully.
"He wouldn't mind anyway. It's not like he ever uses it."
I turn to Chase and sit back on his lap enthusiastically.
"Are you going to sniff it too?" I ask him quietly, as if in secrecy, with a grin.
"It's suspicious. Plus, why didn't you see it when you dropped your earring in the trashcan?"
"Ew," I wrinkle my nose with a matching tone "It's not like I look into the trash when I throw my stuff. Why would I do that?"
I turn to Peter.
"By the way, did you find my earring?"
"Sorry missus, but I couldn't care less about it after I found this baby."
"What if there's something wrong with it?" Target 14 asks.
"Then try it and see." Peter concludes. "Or are you too big of a pussy to do it?"
"Hell no," Target 14 replies with determination. "Bring me a straw."
And thus, even though Mike and Chase consider it suspicious, the other targets agree that it's a chance to make the night better. Throwing some lame excuses about Hugo or Reece not needing it, somehow the plastic bag ends up in their own possession and they all act as if it were like that from the very beginning. Starting a relaxing, funny conversation, they make next to no efforts at all to hide their intensions and eventually, when the bar is half empty, nothing stops them anymore from publicly taking the drug. I keep glimpsing at the time, stressed out about my meticulous plan. I need to take action soon. All along, I make small conversation with Chase, all in flirty terms. At some point, looking at the guys taking turns to enjoy the substance, he even turns to me and asks:
"Do you want to try it?"
My heart starts beating faster because I fear that he's still testing me. I don't know how much he trusts me or if he trusts me at all, so maybe he's still trying to figure out my true colors. However, I play disinterested.
"I don't know…" I furrow my eyebrows. "I'd rather get a strong drink."
I know that by this point, the Theresa act is spoiled. She wouldn't refuse anything, no matter how dangerous and damaging. Actually, the more dangerous, the more she wants so experience it. So normally she would've said yes. But knowing the truth, I have to somehow turn the situation around.
"Me too." Chase grins "How about I take you to a really nice place with lots of strong drinks?"
I laugh, but in reality my heart stars beating hard with fear. I think fast.
"What kind of drinks?" I make small talk in order to change the subject.
"Various types, some of which you've never even heard before."
Something in his voice makes me wonder if he's still talking about the drinks.
"I hope not gin with whiskey." I wrinkle my nose and then laugh. No, this isn't good. Theresa wouldn't do this. She would read between the lines and continue the play.
"Chase! Man! You in for some?"
The guys are already taking the drug, clueless to the poison discreetly mixed in with the dust. I watch them stupidly welcome the substance to their bodies, one after another, not knowing that they won't even have time to regret it.
"Nah, I'm good." Chase says and I feel his hand on my leg. I have such a strong nervous reaction that I know unless I make raucous efforts to control myself, I'll send this precise leg down his fabulous throat.
In a way, I'm disappointed that Chase didn't accept. It would've been so easy to have him poison himself the same way the others are doing it. I guess too good to be true, right?
I notice that driven by the atmosphere, even Derrick eventually joins in, while others are joking and laughing in high spirits. Only Mike hasn't taken it yet. I narrow my eyes slightly, thinking fast. Immediately, I remember that I had my reservations regarding him from the very beginning, so I made a back-up plan for him. It's enough that he's concentrated on the group and not on what's happening outside it. So once I've seen with my own eyes that the poison entered my three targets' bodies, I feel like I finished my job here and I need a pretext to get out of the bar.
"Do you want to get out of here?" I ask Chase in a whisper at his ear with a change of heart regarding his subtle invitations. Now I know what to do. I revise the plan and prepare for action.
Chase grins from one ear to the other.
"Sure."
I hop off and with a short "You guys have fun", I take my purse and coat and head for the door. As per usual, Chase is following close behind.
Targets number 12, 13 and 14 check.
Now it's Mike's turn.
Outside the bar, snow is falling in big flakes, only to melt to the ground under the car wheels and hurried steps of the people. The area is empty here, but the noise of the town and the fading movement of people retreating in their houses reaches us easily. The first thing I do is glimpse sideways, at Mike's motorcycle leaning in a red jack, as still and in the same position as last time I saw it. I start looking for a pretext to ditch Chase and finish my business with Mike.
Just as I'm thinking this, I feel his hand circle my waist and pull me closer to him. Theresa returns his mischievous smile and stops walking. Chase stops as well, looking at me questioningly.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
"What's it like being a gang leader?"
He laughs.
"I can tell somewhere else. I'm cold."
"Come on!" I suddenly exclaim enthusiastically. "Is is exciting? Do you live fearing for your life every day? Do you do anything courageous?"
"It's not as fun as you think." he smirks amused.
I suddenly throw myself at his chest and his arms automatically trap me inside.
"I want you to tell me an exciting story." I state "I want to hear what fights you've had and how you beat everyone up."
He chuckles defeated, although I know he doesn't dislike my closeness.
"Can't we tell stories somewhere else?" he says, obviously in the mood for something different than telling war stories.
"No, I want it right here, right now."
"Why?" he wants to know.
I push myself away and do a few pirouettes lifting my hands to the night sky filled with snowflakes.
"Can't you see how romantic the atmosphere is? What better place then here, in the silence of the winter, to tell legends and awaken memories?"
"I wouldn't have taken you for the type to like bedtime stories." he hesitates.
I turn to him accusingly.
"Then you truly have nothing worth sharing. I understand."
I whirl on my heels sharply and he does exactly what I expect him to. He catches my hand and pulls me back to him. He breathes at the curve of my neck, the air he pushes through his lips feeling hot against my cold skin. I can't see his face and he doesn't let me turn either, but I know precisely what expression he's wearing and what's going on inside his mind. Who would've thought that all it took was a kiss to get to know his weak points.
He kisses my naked skin and I shiver profoundly, frozen for a short moment. His fingers lightly brush against my collarbone and he uncovers my shoulder, which he kisses lightly. My pulse is running mad with fear. I try to stabilize my emotions, but nobody's ever touched me like this before.
"Once," he begins, his voice hoarse and low "a man came to me and said,"
His arms surround both my shoulders and once again he kisses the curve between my shoulder and neck.
" 'People talk about a powerful man that is almost as worshiped as a god. Are you the one?' I replied telling him that he was right. Then I asked him if he wanted to try that power on his own skin. In a calm voice he answered: 'No. It was enough for me that I've seen you. I realize that you don't know what true power is.' "
Chase's other hand traces the curves of my waist in a way that probably drives other girls crazy, but for me, it turns my stomach upside down.
"What did he mean?" I ask in a whisper, close to his face.
"I asked him the same thing. He answered 'You use the word power to describe your manipulation upon others. But true power lies within wisdom'."
I listen carefully and the words remain blocked in my head for a long time. In silence, I'm meditating upon their meaning.
" 'I expected to find a man that has power through his heart. A man that leads others with wisdom and knows how to make the right decisions for him and those who follow him. The rest is meaningless,' he said."
His voice is blocked between the walls of my head. It replays again and again. I start trembling under an undefined emotion that simply unsettles me. My thoughts whirl more around the story than around the storyteller himself. Slowly I'm forgetting about his uncomfortable closeness and feel as though I were in a pit of darkness, needing to be enlightened.
"Then he had tears in his eyes and a look of pity when he called 'It's all meaningless, everything meaningless' over and over again. 'Open your blind eyes to the truth,' he said." Chase whispers, his voice only interrupted by his lips pressing against my skin.
Overwhelmed with chills and a fast beating heart, I completely forget Theresa when I ask, barely able to hide my hunger to know:
"Did he say what the truth was?"
"He didn't get the chance to." his lips slip up my neck.
"Why?" I ask with my breath caught in my throat.
When he reaches my ear, his whisper fills me as glacial as ice, as heartless as plumb and overall sounding despicably amused.
"Because I killed him." come the words, one at a time.
I feel the temperature drop degree after degree and all my senses gather up cold and ticklish around his lips touching my skin almost imperceptibly. My body erupts with shivers and chills until I start trembling for good. My lungs blocked and pupils fixed somewhere in the distance, I see the snowflakes fall around me in a dead silence. Chase's touch is suddenly so cold that his fingers feel corpse-like on my white skin.
"You're afraid of me."
His voice lisps like a snake into my body, holding me captive in fear. I feel him take a hair of mine and caress it between his fingers before he lets it drop on my naked shoulder.
"Why are you with me if you're afraid of me?"
This time he wants to see me, so he spins me around and surrounds me with his dangerous hands.
"I'm not afraid of you," I lie. I never was good with lies unless I was pretending to be somebody else. Which I'm having a hard time doing now.
"Then why are you trembling so much?" he whispers again before his lips start searching for mine.
He killed him.
He killed the man who knew what the truth is.
Hate smolders in secrecy in the depths of my heart. I despise this man beyond understanding. Meeting his cold eyes with an even colder look behind which my thirst to kill him lies, I realize that Theresa is the only way I can do it. And for the first time since I've come to Medleytown, I gladly accept her possessing me.
"You thrill me. That's just it." I answer as silently as him. As his lips touch mine, I already know where to strike.
I get further away before he even manages to fully kiss me and he unconsciously follows me. I want to smirk. My fear is bating under the remembrance that he isn't as powerful as he wishes to be. Even if he so easily puts an end to lives, under one touch of a woman his entire being becomes vulnerable.
I keep pulling my head away just to drive him mad with hunger and it works. He steps forward and I step backward. I place my hands on his chest and feel his energetic heart. He's so stupid. I'm practically searching his jacket and he doesn't even know it. I want to finish him so badly, that I'm enjoying toying around with him as if he were a kid shown a gigantic candy.
Meaningless. It's all meaningless. True power lies within wisdom.
Is the power I have upon Chase not meaningless? Is it something wise?
I ignore the thought. It makes me feel guilty for planning to hurt him. But he deserves it. I don't have any reason to feel guilty for making society a favor by ridding him.
I unzip his jacket out of the blue and it almost makes his heart stop. He's at my fingertip. By the point I bite his lower lip, I could literally do anything I want with him. Muffling the pang of guilt caused by his words repeating in my head, I send my fingers through his dirty blonde hair, feeling how gladly I'd circle his throat and strangle him, had I not have a perfect plan ahead of me.
When he's weak enough that he has no consciousness of his own, I push and tell him panting:
"Story time's over."-At this he cackles-"Let's continue inside. I'm cold."
And he's as big of a fool to take me seriously and half awake, half dreaming, the mighty, butt-kicking gang leader follows my wish. I almost want to laugh when he tells me to wait and follow shortly. He enters the inn across the street to rent a room. Instead of a laugh, what appears on my face is a grimace and my teeth grit.
Let's finish this is fast as possible.
Once he's inside and done looking at me with that disgusting smirk, I reach in two big steps Mike's motorcycle.
I breathe in and out a few times in order to concentrate. Alright, Lucy, here we go. You've finally gotten rid of him.
I take the scissors in my purse and with difficulty manage to make an unnoticeable hole inside the gas container, the dark liquid spraying me. I jump and curse under my breath. I then continue doing other damages that will make the motorcycle overheat and the engine break. In the end, I place a petard that will light up from the heat and make the little explosion along with that tiny spark I need in order to fire up the oil and blow up the motorcycle mid-running.
Tying the petard closely in the right position with the use of the transparent fishing thread, I realize my dirty, cold hands are shaking.
Retreating them and holding them tightly at my booming chest, I curse again.
I have to hurry.
I hear movement close-by and my head snaps in that direction, but it's just a woman sweeping the steps of her store.
By now Chase should be done and waiting for me. I need to be faster.
After the petard is securely tied, I don't have time to check it when I hear a door opening.
That's when I jump on my feet, out of my high-heeled shoes and without a glimpse back, I grab them and start running for my life.
"Hey!" someone screams and I don't know if it was Chase or if it was Mike or anybody else considering me suspicious, but I couldn't care less as the air runs around me and my barefoot steps on the rough pavement covered in a frail carpet of snow are light as the wind.
The adrenaline is flooding me like a waterfall. With every short gasp of air I'm sprinting further and further, my body advancing through the night. All my pores are open and I feel the cold air penetrating my skin. In the back of my head I see Chase or Mike catching up with me, grasping me and killing me. But I dare not turn my head around to see the truth for myself.
I didn't realize I was crossing the street until a honk pierces through the air; the ends of my hair stand up and my pupils shrink at the blinding headlights when the car abruptly brakes. My hands come in front on an impulse, but both our speeds were too strong and the collision happens.
Before I know what's happening, I find myself rolling on the ground and a sharp pain starts pumping in my side. With eyes shut tightly and jaw clasping, I try to stand up wobbly and my lungs, before locked, now suck air abruptly. My knees fail me and I fall on them, my hand drawn to my side where pressure gathers along with a feeling of panic. My stomach turns upside down and my muscles suddenly want to throw out everything inside there.
The driver, who exited the car in a rush, in now frantically waving his arms around me, not knowing if to help me stand up or if it'd be worse by doing so. He's screaming something, but in my ears it's just a background buzz. I stand up on my feet and ignoring him completely, I start limping towards the foggy distance, not bothering to return for my shoes. Worried that any second my target could find me and kill me, the pain in my side is incomparable to the fear and desperation to run.
So I keep running in that tight dress with the purse banging against me with every jump, aware of the bitter cold but at the same time quickly warming up. I can hear my pulse and I painfully feel the exact spot where the car hit me. However, I'm thankful that the driver was quick enough to step on the brakes; otherwise I would've been dead by now.
Even though nobody ever followed me, I only stop running in the opposite side of Medleytown. When I see the mansion on the sky's dark gray background in the outer skirts of the town, I start walking normally. My heart is booming in my chest and my panting is steaming hot in the winter air. I keep my eyes fixed to the mansion and try to calm down.
I unconsciously draw a hand to my still hurting side, a pang of worry clouding my thoughts, but I hurry to cast it away. I dust my dress and straighten its wrinkles on my body that's still shaking with adrenaline. I run a hand through my hair, even if there's nobody in these parts to notice its unkemptness. I regret not retrieving my shoes, but it's too late for it now. I continue walking on my hurt, red, numb feet.
Telling myself over and over again that Chase is not following me, and nor is Mike, I set my objective on Targets number 19 and 20, who live in that mansion together with 21, 12, 13 and 14, meaning the ones I've just finished tonight.
Targets number 19 and 20 are out. So in the mansion there are only the employees. If I'm able to finish my business quickly enough, I can exit before the targets return home.
I search though my purse that contains everything I need and I pull out a black cap along with a pair of thin but strong leather gloves. I pull the cap over my head and even though it's uncomfortable and my vision is limited through the two holes, it's a needed item if I want to pass unnoticed through an extravagant mansion that is most probably packed with cameras.
As I near it, I realize just how big it is. Aware of how suspicious I look, instead of taking the main, middle paved path, I literally start walking through the bushes and trees in the surrounding park. I reach the tall fence and even though I was prepared to see it, I yearn for the packed equipment the organization could have provided at a time like this.
But, like the actress I am, I'm good at improvising.
I tuck up my dress and with the help of the closest tree, I hop between the rough concrete and the branches, advancing in height. I lastly jump on the wall and, scraping my knees and elbows, I pull myself up on the top and slip back down on the other side. I land on my hunkers in the shadows. Arrows on pain shoot up my legs and in the wounded side, but with a clench of my teeth I endure and ignore it.
Light is falling in the enormous courtyard through the windows and from the two tall lamps on each side of the entrance. There are also small LED spotlights circling two fountains on each side of the house. The spots are underwater, their blue light shaken, beautifully falling in magical stripes on the stoned women dressed in Greek clothing. The two statues are both holding vessels, pouring the glittering water with gentle, melodic sounds. The paved path crosses the two women and the lamps right though the middle, light falling upon in and upon the rose bushes on each side. Where I'm standing, the mansion is shadowing even the weak moonlight piercing the thick clouds.
I swiftly and soundlessly shift through the grass and then I gather speed fixing my eyes on the closest window. I reach it in a jump and quick climbing steps on the wall bring me high enough for my hands to grasp the windowsill. Then my weight pulls back down and I balance shortly when gravity is bigger than inertia. I pull myself without hesitation on my elbows and then grip the black metal frame elegantly shaped, set to protect the window. It doesn't budge and I click my tongue. Even if the window were opened, I couldn't pass because of this grate. I suppose all windows on this floor are like this, so I need to try the next one.
I look up, toward the upper floor. Indeed, the windows are just glass, but the journey all the way to that place makes my stomach churn with nervousness. One wrong step and I'd be dead.
I try to swallow the lumps in my throat and calm the powerful beating of my heart. Time's running. I need to get moving.
I glance through this window to make sure nobody sees me trying to break into the mansion. When I make sure it's clear, I start studying the architecture of the building for stepping spots. Holding the metal frame tightly, I stand up on the narrow windowsill and with one hand at a time, I hold the fancily built string course circling the mansion. I hesitate a moment, contemplating how I'm going to do this. Then I let my entire weight hang on the stringcourse as I push my feet against the wall margins continuing the window frame, in opposite sides at the same time. It's easy to slip, so I have to hop a few times to steady myself, wincing at the rough concrete that pricks my soles. But slowly, I gain height. Soon I'm able to rest my elbows on the thankfully wide string course. Then I let out a few short breaths before pushing myself up on my arms and dragging a shaking knee.
For a second I have the sensation that I'm falling and all the nervous ends in my body react, my body bursting with adrenaline. I gently come back as I lower myself and I start breathing again, jerkily, as my heart is restlessly working. I take a break just to make sure I'm not falling, and then slowly, very slowly, I lift the other leg and try to put it on the string course, but I realize that it's too narrow and I'd lose my balance. I put it back down and on second thought I put both feet down, leaning only on my shaking arms. How am I going to do it?
I look up once again and calculate the distance I have until I reach the windowsill. I realize that if I stood up on the string course I could easily grasp it. Maybe I can do it fast. At least that's what the secret at BLS is. If you stay lingering around, contemplating whether you should do it or not, eventually you're going to grow tired and never do it. But with speed and a little experience, your movements are much more precise and you can trick gravity most of the times. I've learned that in the past three months, when I've had enough time to master most of the trails and courses in the training hall.
Well, I've only got one shot.
With my eyes fixed on the windowsill, I lift a foot and place it steadily on the string course and then I lift my entire body. Of course that I start falling immediately, but I manage to stand, stretch and catch the windowsill before that happens.
Once I realize I did it, I start breathing again.
Silently, I push myself on this platform and resting on my elbows, I free one hand to try the window, but it's locked. I want to scream with frustration, but instead of doing so I drop the quiet act and decide to go for it. I jump up on my butt and then I huddle in the small space between the walls. Half of my bottom is hanging in the air. I press my back and feet in the narrow portions of wall to be very stable and then I start jabbing my elbow in the window.
The first time, all it does is shake. Second time, the same. I put my entire strength in it, along with the pressing against the wall in order not to slip off. I suck a breath and then close my eyes when I nail it in the window. It hurts, but I repeat the maneuver over and over again.
"Come on," I hiss between my teeth. My body soaked in sweat, I clench my jaw, flex my muscles and ignore the persistent pain in my side.
The glass cracks.
I take a break to regain my strength and then start striking the window restlessly, it cracking more and more each hit. Small chips are flying everywhere and I close my eyes tightly. Eventually I break through to the other side. My elbow is bleeding and the pain is sharp, making me bite my tongue not to cry. I vigorously hit around the hole in order to widen it and in the end the entire window is a pile of broken glass on the ground.
As I'm crossing the windowsill into the mansion, I look around cautiously, surprised that the guards haven't heard anything yet and even if they did, they didn't show up. My steps are trying to dodge the glass on the carpet but I do cut my bare feet a few times. I hurriedly take the minuscule pieces out of the tiny wounds, looking around with restlessness.
I find myself in a hallway with numbered rooms on both sides. It looks just like a hotel. But surprisingly, only six people live here, along with the guards and maids. I enter this floor's lobby and try not to gape at the beauty and richness of it. It's been a while since I've seen such delicate and detailed architecture, or such beautiful paintings and curtains. There are golden coaches, stuffed with feather and covered in red silk, big palm trees in varnished clay pots bearing ancient Greek drawings, a grand piano in a corner, and in the middle of the ceiling, an enormous golden chandelier lays hanging with thousands of spirals holding diamond crystals which reflect the warm light in the room.
I step awe-struck on the red carpet, trying my hardest to concentrate on the mission. Normally there would be stairs elegantly crossing the floors in curves, but this mansion has an elevator instead.
It figures, I think, since Targets number 19 and 20 are excessively keen on spending time indoors, probably eating, and only go out for duty: keeping the town fearful, that is. Even outside, they move with the help of Mike's personal limousine. It's almost unthinkable that two enormous people like them would climb the stairs up and down in their own house. This only ought to make my job easier.
I cross the lobby towards the glassed elevator, studying its structure carefully. But when I hear voices on the first floor, I remember my priorities and decide to rid the guards and/or maids before proceeding to mess with the elevator.
Through the transparent blue glass I take note of two men talking. How should I reach them?
"Hey, you!" somebody screams behind me and I whirl on my heels taken by surprise.
I barely take note of the guard dressed in the black tuxedo with a startled, angry expression and a position ready for action; my body moves on its own and the next second I'm twirling and jabbing a heel right into the side of his head. The fast high kick sends him to the ground with a loud bump and at the same time it rips my dress all the way to the waist. He tries to stand up dizzily while one hand grasps the pistol at his side. He doesn't have to take it out because after a fast strike with the flat of the hand in the back of his head, he's out.
Hoping that he won't wake up too soon, I take his body and start dragging it to the closest room. I dump him in a corner and then take his pistol along with a magazine which I place in my purse.
I load it and prepare to exit the room, when I see a maid in uniform standing there, staring at me with eyes as big as plates, caught mid-cleaning. After I wake up from the surprise, I thrust the gun in her direction.
She drops the towel and lifts her hands, shaking from head to toe and trying to make an intelligible sound.
"Shh," I say, taking a finger to my lips covered by the black cape. "Don't make a sound."
She's shaking so badly that she can't even shake her head or nod. Her eyes are caught into mine with fear.
"I'm not going to hurt you, alright?"
I take off my cap and then my gloves. I place them in my purse. This time, a weight lifts off her shoulders and she nods vigorously.
"I want you to do a few things for me. Do you think you're able to?"
She nods again, glimpsing between me and the gun, desperate to see the pipe facing a different direction.
"Give me that towel you just dropped." I point to it with my head and she slowly, very slowly thrusts a hand down towards it, not moving her eyes from the pistol. "Good. Toss it to me."
I catch it and wipe the blood off my face, then off my elbow and finally I step on it to wipe my wounded feet. All along I keep the pistol pointed at her, even though I don't intend to pull the trigger on the poor creature.
"Next, I'll politely ask you to undress your uniform and especially your shoes."
She stares at me as if I were a three-headed giraffe. I make a motion with the gun telling her to hurry up. With hesitant moves, she unties her black apron and throws it to me, following my instructions. She then gives me her white shirt and wavy black skirt, remaining in her undergarments. With one hand I rip the remaining of my dress and start dressing up in her clothes. I find it difficult to hold the gun at the same time, but I know she'd run away otherwise. Finally, I put on her comfortable shoes and even though at first it hurts, I get used to it.
"What time is it?"
"Um," she glimpses at her watch, her wrist visibly trembling "It's a quarter to eleven pm."
"When did Matt and Owen leave?" I ask, referring to Targets number 19, respectively 20.
"Uh, I think two hours ago." she stutters.
"When are they coming back?"
"Usually they return close to the morning."
"Is it possible that they return, let's say, before midnight?"
"Y-yes, sometimes they return after one or two hours, but not usually. It happened a few times when the weather was bad."
"Like tonight?" I grin mockingly, holding in a curse.
"L… Like tonight." she says, fearing that the bad news might make me change my mind about not shooting her.
Dang. Now what am I going to do? I didn't want to encounter them.
But now that I think about it, it might be better like this. I start thinking deeply, searching for a new plan. Eventually I figure out how I'm going to do it.
"Good, thank you very much." I tell her flashing a grin and running a hand through my ruffled blonde hair. "Now I have one last request."
She's embarrassedly covering her naked skin, wearing a furious and at the same time scared expression.
"Give me the key to this room."
"I-it's in the pocket of the apron."
I take out a handful of keys looking identical, carefully numbered. At my order, she tells me the number of this room and then she hands me her cellphone. I also take the guard's radio station and then exit, locking the door behind me.
I stuff the pistol in my skirt's belt behind the apron. Then as casually as I can, I start walking towards a door wearing the exit sign and I figure they do have a staircase after all. I hurry to reach the first floor, where I enter directly into the lobby.
One guard. Two more are by the elevator. And there must be two others outside. I move soundlessly towards this single guard that's taking the remote control and dropping tiredly on the couch. My presence is as good as erased from the room as I advance towards him. He turns on the TV and searches for the news channel. He reaches the local weather forecast.
"-a blizzard coming from the mountains, moving East and covering the entire XY area around midnight. The snowfall so far was light, but this heavy snowstorm, even though short, will leave Medleytown entirely covered."
"Will the traffic have to be stopped, Mrs. Yellow?"
"I believe so, yes. And if not, the drivers will have to pay attention to the roads and be extra careful with the speed. It's very easy to make accidents when-"
"I guess Potty and Baboon aren't going anywhere tonight." the guard yells over to the other guards in the entrance hall of the mansion, by the elevator. He then cackles mockingly.
"Did they call?" one of them shouts over.
"No, but the weather's bad. They're probably coming back as we speak."
The guard was about to add something else, but he freezes at the sound of the click announcing a gun loading above his ear. His breath is cut and his eyes snap up to see my reflection on the TV's black frame holding the gun at his temple. I lower my body softly and my lips touch the other ear as I whisper:
"Don't move."
I see the tingle in his fingers towards his own gun in the leg pocket, so I press the circular cold pipe harder against his skin. He stops moving completely.
"Tell your buddies that you should call 'Potty and Baboon' and tell them to return quickly because of the blizzard."
"Why are you-"
"Do it."
My voice stern and threatening, even if not as threatening as the muzzle pressing his temple, he has no other choice than to comply.
"Hey, um.." he begins, his tone obviously trying to let them know that something is wrong. But it doesn't work because what he says is odd in the first place, so his buddies don't guess a thing. "Maybe we should call them. To warn about the blizzard."
A cackle is heard from the other side, along with the low conversation on the forecast channel.
"If they find it necessary, they'll come back." one of them replies disinterested.
"Say 'If Baboon finds out we knew about the storm and didn't tell them, our butts get burned. I say you call him now.'" I whisper in his ear. I see his eyes insistently fixing my reflection's eyes. He dares not turn around.
"If Baboon finds out we knew about the storm and didn't tell them, our butts get burned. I say you call him now." he repeats slowly, trying at least from his tone to call for help.
A silent sigh can be heard.
"Fine, let's give Mitchell a call."
"Good boy." I whisper one last time and then with the heavy pistol, I knock him out with a fast strike in the side of his head, him not even having the time to turn around. His body numbly falls to the side on the coach.
Luckily the other guards didn't hear a thing.
I start moving, stepping mutely, dodging the areas in which my reflection could reach their line of vision. It's difficult, because everything here is glossy and sparkly and hiding is almost impossible.
"Hello, Mitchell? Yeah, tell Mr. Matt and Mr. Owen that there's a blizzard coming tonight. You should drive back."
There's a pause of silence, during which I glue my back to the wall and use the maid's smartphone to look at the two men's reflection through the opened door exiting the lobby.
"No, but the streets will probably be blocked by morning. Clark heard it over the news just now."
The partner is walking around in boredom, back and forth in parallel lines to the entrance. I look around the hall with the use of the phone and notice a smaller chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.
"Should I call mister Chase?"
For a moment, I freeze. My breath is caught in my throat and my pulse starts losing control.
"Well, mister Mike's schedule seemed free tonight," he says checking a pocket notebook in his free hand. "I think he and mister Chase were supposed to be meeting tonight, along with others… Yes… If it's urgent, I can ask for his help… Why doesn't he want to?"
I take a deep breath and concentrate. I measure the thickness of the chandelier's wire. I wonder if one bullet could do it.
"Mitchell, tell Mr. Owen that he can't possibly do it alone. Plus, it's Bob's gang. They want revenge. Tell them to wait and I'll call mister Chase." he hangs up "That dumb driver can't do a thing." he mutters frustrated.
"What did he say?" the partner asks, approaching him. They're sitting right below the chandelier. As subtly as possible, I walk behind a big palm tree and hiding behind the large leaves, I lift the pistol. I place it to my right eye's vision while I close the left one.
"They met up with Bob's gang and they want to teach them a lesson. But Owen took something personal and now is determined to mess with one of the guys alone." he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. "Mitchell is uselessly wondering if he should call Chase or not."
"So you're calling him?"
"Of course."
"What if he's busy?"
"Well I'm just announcing him. If he doesn't want to go, then Baboon dies and probably so does Potty."
For some reason I can't pull the trigger. I huff through my teeth for the fifth time, pulling myself together. I can't lose time. But my fingers don't move. Something in me wants for that guard to make the phone call. It's better if he doesn't. But something in me wants him to call Chase. Why?
In the last second, I give up. I put the pistol down, tightening it in my hands.
I curse.
I stand up and hide the weapon behind the apron as well as I can. I start walking normally towards the two guards, taking an enormous risk. I look casually at each of them and speak shyly with furrowed eyebrows.
"E-excuse me, sir."
The guards turn to face me and they both frown when they see my neglected appearance and dirty face. Especially since they don't recognize me.
"Who are you?" one of them asks almost offended.
"I… I was hired a few days ago." I frown faking confusion. "By Mr. Matt."
From my information, Target number 19, Matt Gruel aka. Potty, likes hiring pretty girls with Mike's money.
They refrain from asking about the cuts on my face and instead show hostility.
"What do you want?"
"I overheard the conversation just now." I hesitate "I wanted to tell you that you might consider important…"
I seem embarrassed and I whisper something under my breath.
"What?" he leans in to hear me better.
"W-well…" I try again, but the rest is just as silent.
"Can't you speak louder, woman?" he asks irritated and leans even closer.
My fist takes him by complete surprise when it nails him right between the ribs, in the stomach. A pained moan exits his lips as his body bends forward and the shocked partner reacts fast. I ditch the first one with another knee in his stomach and then whirl around and high kick the second guard. He blocks me and tries to catch my ankle, but he's not as fast as Natsu was when we were training and I retrieve the foot, twirl again and try another medium height kick that he didn't see coming due to my speed.
The air is forced out from his lungs and he stumbles back on his feet. I gain a few seconds during which I return to the fist guard. I jump over his low kick, barely missing his heel, and I return the strike that is directed at the back of his head. Had he not dodged, he'd have been out. Not only that, but he stands up and goes for his gun in the pocket at the side of his leg. From the corner of my eye I see the second guy's fist flying towards me. I fall on my hunkers, dodging it the best I can; however, I find myself tripping back with a sharp pain in my jaw. Feeling trapped, I roll back and then stand with one knee and hand marking the ground and an arm in the air for balance. I glare at them shortly before, as if in slow motion, I take note of the first guy taking out his pistol, the second one jumping towards me and a maid appearing in the doorway with a panicked expression.
It's like my brain is a programmed machine; with just a glimpse I know the distance parting me from the men and the girl, the speed that each of them is using, the muscles in their anatomy which are put to use, the moves they intend to use and in which direction.
I overtake their speed, moving to the first guy with the pistol and jumping at his abdomen, throwing him to the ground and rolling with him. He dropped the pistol and I catch it midair turning as I do, jabbing my elbow directly into his temple and then repeating the move with the grip bottom of the pistol. His hands trying to strangle me drop numbly and his body relaxes.
I don't even have time to breathe when I roll again to dodge the second guard's gunshot. He continues to fire at me, and with adrenaline pumping inside me, I keep moving. Finally I push myself up and land with a twirl in one foot, the other one flying towards his head. He easily dodges the wide movement and a few bullets miss me by inches. I release a wave of energy I suddenly feel in a fit of punches and side kicks. My eyes wide open and seeing every movement as precisely as if it were in slow motion, I hit again and again, overwhelming him with my incredible speed. His dodging is slow and clumsy, every new hit hurting and weakening him. I'm advancing and he's staggering back, the gun not useless in his hand, slowing him down. Finally I spin on my heel and lift my foot. My heel hits his head and it's an instant knock out.
Not even a second passes before I take out the pistol from my apron and shoot towards the maid that's trying to run away. The bullet makes a hole into the wood of the doorframe, exactly where she would've stood had she stepped forward. Her eyes are widely looking at the hole and she's frozen in her place.
"Don't move." I warn her and she obeys gladly.
With the pistol still pointing at her, I grab guard one's mobile phone and click the last dialed number.
"Yes?" an older man's voice speaks through the other side almost impatiently.
"He-hello, mister Mitchell?" I say with in a panicked, shaky voice. The man, apparently Matt and Owen's driver, is blocked at the sound of my voice.
"Yes?" he asks again, this time confused.
"I-I'm sorry! I called on a whim; I don't know what to do!" the maid makes a move and I load the gun just to show her I'm ready to shoot if I need to "S-Somebody came and knocked out the guards! Sir, please return fast! He said he's getting revenge for a Bob; I don't know what to do! I don't even know anything! I was hired two days ago! Please tell Mr. Matt and Owen to return immediately!" I storm endlessly with a shaking voice.
"Calm down, for heaven's sake!" Mitchell bursts through the speakers, but I can read the worry in his voice. "Who was killed?"
"T-The guards inside the house and one of the maids." I glimpse at the very one looking at me widen-eyed "Actually two of them, I think." Her face turns paler than the wall behind her.
"Did he leave?"
"I don't know! I came out from my hiding place as soon as he left the room!"
"We should call Chase immediately…" Mitchell says and the words drop like stone upon me. I almost see my entire plan ruined, simply because I didn't take into consideration this possibility.
"We don't have time! Please hurry!" I try to insist.
I hear people shouting in the background.
"Mr. Owen and Mr. Matt are busy right now. I'll call Chase and send him over there immediately."
No! Damn it! Damn it all! Why does he have to ruin every single one of my plans?!
"Sir, that's a very bad idea!" I persist desperately "Isn't he already in the middle of a fight right now?!" I lie "Just imagine how mad he would be to be interrupted for something like this. Do you honestly want the mansion to be robbed and the staff to be killed on Owen and Matt's watch?! Aren't they part of a damned gang?! If I were mister Mike I'd kick them out for having the guts to give out the mansion on a silver platter to this 'Bob's damn gang member! If you consider yourself a capable employee then you will stop whining like a brat and bring the two back right this instant!" I fumingly yell in the device before I hang up on Mitchell.
Panting from the storm of words that I didn't even give a second thought, I realize that my immaculate operation was ruined by this sudden burst of anger and I start fearing that they'd find me suspicious. It's all Chase's fault. At the bare sound of his name, my blood freezes in my veins and my hair stands. I started panicking thinking that he'd come here and find me. And now I've gone and ruined the plan.
"Damn it!" I curse angrily, throwing my entire frustration in a glare at the poor maid waiting under the doorframe frozen. Then I take a new magazine and push it inside the pistol as I start walking for the exit.
The second the door opens, the two guards outside turn to me. They don't even know what hit them when I set loose the fire at their legs, picture accompanied by their yells piercing the silence of the night. I walk towards the first one and kick the back of his head leaving him unconscious and do the same with the second one.
I grab his body and start pulling him inside the mansion. The maid is still frozen in her place, staring at me with her eyes so big and scared that she looks even smaller than she is in reality. She watches me mutely as I ditch the fainted body in the elevator and then do the same with the other guard from outside, then the two guards laying in the entrance hall. Finally, I reach the one who had been watching the forecast. When I grab him, he starts moaning painfully and I realize he's waking up, so I punch his stomach as hard as I can and he's out again.
The elevator is filled with five bodies. I step among them, then I remember about the maid. Glaring at her shortly, I motion with my head as I call:
"Come along."
I point my gun at her to emphasize my authority. She follows obediently and we crowd inside the elevator. As I press the button for the upper floor, I worry for a second about the weight. But I wash the thought away. If two animals like Matt and Owen can fit inside here, then sure can the seven of us as well.
When we reach the floor and the doors open, I'm still pointing my gun at the maid.
"Help me carry them. And if you try to run away, I swear, I'll follow you and kill you no matter where you go. Mark my words."
She nods heartily and her small trembling hands catch a man by his armpits and start dragging him after me. I go for a different room than the last one and there, I take the key and lock all five men after I've taken all of their weapons, cellphones and radio stations. When I'm done, I ask the maid to hand me the same objects if she has any and then I lock her in a different room, all along threatening her with the pistol.
By the time I'm done, it's midnight.
In the silence of the mansion, I have enough time to sit on the first chair I find and take a deep breath. Resting my storming head I close my eyes and realize that my heart is still beating furiously.
I know I have to hurry before Matt and Owen are back, but I find myself unable to concentrate. The harder I try to think clearly and set again and again my objectives, the more I start worrying that Mitchell did, despite my pathetic threatening, call Chase. Without notice, my hands start shaking at the thought that Chase might come here. At first I wanted the guards to call him because I was curious as to how he'd react, but I never imagined they would want him here.
I really need to hurry up before that happens.
Ignoring the pain and tiredness in my body, I prepare to look for the control panel of the elevator. Again, I remember how easy it could've been had I had the organization's help. At least I could've done a better job with the mansion's architecture plan. But I don't have enough time to start searching for one.
Holding inside the groan of frustration and worry, I do the simplest thing that I could possibly do: I sit and stare at the bluish, clear glass tube of the elevator. It's all, technologically speaking, quite advanced. And I was never that good with technology on top of it. Rolling my eyes along the wires that mean nothing to the unknowing me, I realize that I didn't, contrary to my previous belief, have it all sorted out regarding this mission.
Then it clicks to me.
The emergency brake. The three floors. All I have to do is overheat the bobbin. Or produce a short-circuit. Anyway it is, the engine is doomed. The elevator might stop or it might fall down. And if the emergency brake is strong enough, it can hold them hanging for years in case nobody comes to rescue. And even if the brake can't hold them, it's just two, maybe three floors down, nothing big.
I decide that I don't need to have any expertise in technology to destroy an elevator.
A terrible sound interrupts my thoughts and my head snaps towards the exit, where a car is hurriedly pulling in the driveway. It drifts a few meters, the tires screeching at the sudden handbrake and almost knocking down a few flowerpots before stopping.
Thousands of questions and ideas cross my head; I already visualize the following fifteen minutes. In a second, I draw a conclusion and I hurry to take the gun that I dropped, along with the purse where I've added to my collection all of the radio stations and mobile phones. Hiding as well as I can from the entrance's vision and trying to move so fast that my hands are shaking even worse than before, I take a radio station and turn in on with a loud beep. Glimpsing behind me at Mitchell helping two enormous men exit the limousine in a hurry, I hide the radio station in a palm tree pot, next to the central area of the hall. Then I run for the emergency staircase, where I close the door behind me and pull my cap and gloves. Maybe it's too late; maybe I was already caught on camera. But if I survive through this mission, maybe BLS will do something to erase my existence from the computers.
I turn on a different station and I start hearing everything that's happening in the hall.
"What the hell… What happened here?"-I frown. Did I leave a mess without realizing?- "Where's everybody?" a disinterested man says in a very think voice.
"Mister Matt sir," Mitchell says meekly, but impatiently at the same time "I thought I've already stated that the guards are dead. Maybe only a few other maids are alive, hiding!"
The third voice, Owen, expresses some profane opinions on the matter.
"I'm gonna' kill those bastards." he continues, referring to Bob's gang.
"We shall see that happening the moment the blizzards ends." Mitchell assures, his tone hurried as if impatient to see to the real important issue here. "Before that, shouldn't we look for him?! Maybe we aren't too late and he's still in the mansion!"
"Shut'yer trap, ye' moron! The house be empty! Ye' think he stayed back like an idiot waiting fer us to come home?!"
A strong noise can be heard and my guess is that he kicked something close to the station.
"Where the heck are the corpses?" Matt asks and the following silence and low shifting tells me they're moving around, trying to put two and two together. The mess probably tells them the fight took place there, but there aren't corpses.
"There're traces of blood here." Matt continues as disinterested as before. I remember that in my anger I did shoot those guards in the leg and then dragged them across the room.
"Where do they lead to?"
"The elevator," Mitchell is the one to answer with surprise, almost as a question.
My heart starts beating with anticipation and I remember that I was supposed to look for the control panel. I prepare to climb the stairs, when I see that they not only go up, but down, too. My eyes widen with realization and hope when I recognize the basement. Because if I'm not wrong, that's where the panel should be as well.
I climb down quickly, half listening to their cursing at Bob's address and half making plans in my head. Downstairs, there's a door with an "Off limits" metal plate hung in a needle. The door is locked and I groan frustrated; my hand slaps over my mouth when I remember it's not just me being able to hear them, but the other way around as well. Climbing back up, I temporarily abandon the station, covering the microphone with one of my gloves, then I go down and kick the door open.
Panting as I silently make the trip to the station and back, I carefully listen to the trio upstairs, looking for hints revealing their position in the mansion.
From what I understand they're currently talking to a scared maid that said she heard people fighting and even gunshots at some point and was too scared to come out of the kitchen, where she had been working. The two gang members are yelling at her with excessive swearing that she should've called the moment she heard something suspicious. She's apologizing and crying and I feel pity for the girl; she would've been safer and better off had I locked her in a room as well.
But I'm going to take care of her and her other colleagues later.
The basement is a dark, dusty room that looks more like and engine room rather than a basement. Some unnecessary things are stocked here and there's even a safe with a large metal wheel in front of it. I feel tempted to approach it and break it. Right now, I'm aware of how much I'm in need for money; my own survival counts on it. I bite my lip. Finding the right combination of numbers is a piece of cake in my position right now. I've got a gun and a good few magazines, I've got control over a lot of people and most important of all, soon nobody will be as interested in keeping the safe locked as interested as they'll be in keeping their lives.
I take a few steps towards the safe, staring at the inviting block of metal. Mike is rich. But his life is in danger, so why should he care about a few hundred being gone over the night? Plus, I deserve it. I've been working my butt of for the past week and the organization gave me next to nothing. These are criminals and have no right to own this money. And just because of it, they already have so much power. I can't even imagine what I could do if I had enough money to buy weapons and everything else out of my budget.
All meaningless. Everything is meaningless. True power lies within wisdom, not manipulation.
My fists clench automatically and my eyes break away from the safe. I look side-ways with a frown.
Seriously? Now?
I clench my teeth, roll my eyes annoyed, but still, I listen to my consciousness. I let the idea slip out of my head and instead start looking around for the elevator control panel.
It's not hard to find it, and after I force open the lid, I look carefully at the complexity of colored wires and buttons. With a smirk, I nod to myself, take out the scissors and now all I have to do is wait for the right moment.
"Not a worry, master Chase will surely take care of those pieces of garbage." Mitchell remarks, which draws my attention back upon the conversation happening in the reception hall.
"You called Chase?" Matt asks shocked and I feel the tension gathering in that room.
"But sir, in this kind of sit-"
"-Are you out of your f*ing mind?!"
"Ye' good fer nothing idiot…" Owen adds angrily "If I wanted to drag Chase into this kind'a petty sh*t, I would've called him at my wedding!"
"Did he say he's coming?"
"Well technically, no, sir, he seemed rather angry. It didn't look like I could particularly talk to him." Mitchell says sheepishly.
I inwardly smirk, knowing that I'm the entire reason for it.
"It figures, you dumbass. Next time your stupid brains give you such a brilliant idea to call Chase, announce us first." Matt says and his voice is faded, as if he's walking away.
"Where are you going, sir?" Mitchell asks surprised, ignoring the insults.
"To see if there are any f*ing corpses, what do you think?!"
I don't know why and how, but excitement starts whirling inside me as I imagine him walking towards the elevator. I almost can't wait.
"Wait."
I clench my teeth to hold the curse from escaping.
"What is it?" Matt asks Owen.
I hear nothing, but something happens. I find myself whispering for them to hurry up.
"What's this for?" Matt asks again.
"We still don't know if the bastard's gone yet or not. We better be careful."
I realize Owen tossed Matt a gun.
"Mitchell, stay here and keep watch." Matt says.
"No, he be coming with us. I ain't gonna be the one to roll the corpses about." I barely manage to hear Owen say and then the duo bursts out laughing mockingly. Mitchell stays silent for a while, before saying in a forced calm tone:
"I will follow you upstairs."
Then many noises follow and the sound I've been waiting for: the click of the elevator doors opening. Excitement stirs even more wildly in my stomach and I'm anticipating impatiently what's going to follow. They're talking about something, but I stop hearing when the doors closing muffle their voices.
A second of silence. The panel looks as complicated as before.
A low, guttural cackle breaks through my lips as my eyes greedily devour the tender rubber covering the wires. I grin deviously in spite of myself and softly shake a conflicted head.
"Screw this."
A sluggish feeling of satisfaction pours inside me as I cut each wire hungrily, taking my sweet time as I destroy the elevator bit by bit. Through the radio station, I hear breaking, low screeching sounds and the scared exclamations of Targets number 19 and 20, along with Mitchell, this time through the walls and not the station. Golden sparks fly around my working hands and when I finish cutting the wires, my thirsty eyes search for more.
I take the lid from the ground and grasping one corner, I throw it directly into the panel. The lights of the last buttons flicker and then shut off. Another strike and their glass breaks into pieces. Another one and both the panel's metal and the lid's are bending under the pressure. Now it's useless and I throw it away. At the same time, a cling of something suddenly bursting forth and then bouncing against the walls of the tube is followed by a groan of the heavy elevator and the sound of wires snapping. The people inside are screaming profanities. The elevator is stopped by the emergency brake and now is screeching threateningly, hanging unsafely above the ground.
Then it's silent.
Considering my job here done, I dust my hands, looking at my piece of work. The panel is completely destroyed and I smile satisfied. I turn my back on it and exit the basement.
I reach the first floor and slowly, arrogantly start walking through the lobby. I graze past the TV that is still turned on the news channel, its low buzz the only sound in the silence, aside from my regular steps. My gun in my right hand, I pass it lazily along the coach as I advance. Then I enter the next room and lift my victorious eyes upon my targets.
The elevator, stuck between this floor and the lower one, of the basement, is literally hanging on a thread. Slowly, it's balancing from side to side and the people inside are screaming at each other to stay still and cursing all of the names they know, alphabetically. The grin that erupted in me can't be washed away as I approach them slowly. Only their heads are visible, the rest of their bodies buried under the floor.
I'm only a few meters away from them, but they still don't notice me. My back straight and legs slightly parted, I look amused at their struggles. Finally one head snaps up at me with shock and the rest follow. At first they think I'm a maid because of the uniform and they're screaming at me to call for help.
But I'm standing motionless and this, along with the cap, gives them second thoughts. Mitchell is the first one to notice the gun I'm holding. It's almost silent and I enjoy the look of panic in their eyes before I lift my hand and pull the black cap.
I shake my head to fix my hair and then I run a hand though it relaxed. Their eyes widen at me with realization and one of the targets mouths my real name.
I try not to show the surprise and instead, I show a smirk and send them a flying kiss before waving and walking away. Mitchell reacts faster than the others and takes Owen's gun and starts shooting in my direction desperately, but I don't even blink at the bullet ricocheting in the perfectly bulletproof glass. He is forced to stop because otherwise he'd hurt himself and the others. Then I leave the room and start searching for the rest of the maids.
After I take care of them, I finally exit the mansion. It's one a.m. Dressed in brand new clothes, I shoulder my purse, now emptied of all the mobile phones, radio stations and especially the gun. Leaving the mansion in complete silence aside from the desperate screaming of my targets and their hopeless driver inside the broken elevator, I enter the freezing, whirling winter. Without even looking in that direction, I throw the keys to all of the mansion's rooms in one of the fountains and continue waking on the paved path.
Targets number 19 and 20, complete.
23 more people to go.
