Angel of Death
Blonde hair, blue or green eyes, red hair, brown eyes, brown hair, hazel eyes. Pick a combination, she had been doing it to survive for two years now. She was a chameleon or that's what she had been called. If she wanted to blend in, it's what she did. She would go to her small storage locker she had rented under an assumed name, and drum up a new identity. Put on the wig, pick out the clothes, pop in the contacts and put on her makeup, then out would come a new person. She had hundreds, maybe even thousands of faces and not a single one was ever the same unless she deemed it so. She was getting tired of the running and hiding.
She was tired of never finding a single place to stay for more than a couple of months, but that's how her life was after she had left Kyoto with idiot-Shotaro, It was all his fault. Had he never dragged her to Tokyo and tossed her to the curb, she would have never seen what she had seen. She would still be a girl with black hair and golden eyes by the name of Kyoko. The name that had been on the tag of her fast-food uniform that night. Oh, what she would give to have him in that situation instead of her; although, he probably wouldn't have the same fate as she. She smirked at that thought. What would she really give for things to be different? She wasn't sure, but it is what it is. It wasn't like anyone would ever want her for anything else anyway. They all used her in the end anyway. Why not take advantage of it?
What jobs did she do, you ask? Those would be the quick, high paying jobs that no one else would speak of doing proudly. Entertaining in a "Gentleman's Club" for information, using her body to get close enough to a mark and slipping him a sleeping aid that he surely wouldn't awaken from, getting her hands dirty a time or two with a well placed bullet between the eyes or the quick pass of a razor to the throat. It wasn't like the people she was doing this to were innocents. These men were like the men she had seen that night, giving up their lives at the hands of the man that she discovered days after had been her father, Marcus Dannon.
She chuckled wryly as she thought of Father and shook her head. No wonder her mother never mentioned him. Now she knew why. He was balls deep into the criminal underground and it seemed as though now, she was also on their payroll. Well, actually because of her stunning talents, she was the gem of the underworld. She had no direct affiliations, she had clientèle from all walks of life. For the right price. She was known as the "Angel of Death".
Her father had been shocked when he saw the younger version of the woman that he had cheated almost 17 years ago. He swooped out of the alley, grabbed the young woman as she fainted and quickly put her in his car. He blindfolded her, tied her and cleaned up his mess. She was a Saena doppelganger and she had his eyes. There was just too much coincidence to deny it. He would take her with him and find out if she was who he suspected.
After a week of keeping her captive and confirming with DNA, he discovered that he was a father. Well, it was quite a shock to him. Never had he been in a situation such as this. He thought he had been so careful when he was younger. Apparently not, because his daughter was in the next room a little more calm than he thought she should have been. He grabbed the test results and letter attesting to his parental status and went to confront her with the truth.
"Kyoko..." She heard the man quietly enter and close the door behind him as she stared out the window of his secluded home. "I have something you need to read. It may be a shock to you. I know it was for me." He told her sheepishly and sat next to her.
She scoffed. "A shock..." She glanced at him. "At this point Mr. Dannon, if that's truly your name, nothing would really shock me considering how my life has been up to this point." She said sarcastically. She hadn't breathed a word to him about how her life had been or how she'd been treated, yet.
He sighed and handed her the papers. "Read it."
Her eyes scanned the documents and she looked up at him in shock. "What is this?"
"It's what it looks like. It's a DNA test. You're my daughter." He told her seriously.
She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. "I don't have a father and my mother left me at six. I was raised to be the wife of a self-absorbed, selfish, arrogant ass and used as a maid, then tossed to the curb when he was done with me. I am no one's anything."
He furrowed his brow and frowned. "No, you are my daughter and this proves it. I have done a lot of wrong things in my life, but this is one that I will not walk away from." He turned her face towards him to look into her familiar eyes. "Will you?"
Her face screwed up in pain and the tears began to flow. "Why? Why are you doing this?"
He sighed and pulled her into his arms. "You are mine. I will not leave you to the streets like common trash. What you want to do with this is up to you, but I will not let you go alone. Never again." He whispered into her hair and that began her determination to learn.
Several forms of fighting, defensive and offensive. Weapons of all shapes, uses and sizes. Knives, guns, poisons, projectiles and many more were introduced into her education. She was educated in disguising herself with hair, makeup, color contacts and clothing. She observed people on the streets and in videos.
Then came the day of her first kill. Oh, she relished in that one. He hadn't been difficult at all. He reminded her entirely too much of the young singer that had tossed her aside and told of her worth to him and others. However, this one was just a few notches beneath being a decent human than Sho was. This one had kidnapped, raped and abused young women and her client wanted him to suffer greatly by the hands of a female of his ideal type before getting his just desserts.
His screams, were exquisite. His face contorted in pain, was a fine work of art. His confessions, were music recorded for the victims' ears, and the body parts he cherished, were jarred in formaldehyde, as proof that she had done her job correctly, then given to her clients. The rest of him had been carefully dissected and fed to the local aquatic wildlife in the bay. He would not be entertaining himself at the expense of others ever again. It had been a quite satisfying task.
The day that truly changed her life and for the better, had been the day she saw him in the airport. He was a vision and she almost couldn't believe her own eyes. Sparkling blond hair and dazzling green eyes. His name was Kuon Hizuri, at least that's what the customs agent called him.
"Corn..." He heard in a female whisper. He turned to discover the identity of the owner of the voice that spoke a name he hadn't heard in over 10 years. He had only seen a beautiful blonde pass him, with molten gold eyes. A feeling of familiarity washed over him. There was only one that had ever called him that and the way the voice breathed out his name told him that it wasn't meant in a derogatory way. The voice said it with awe and admiration.
"K-Kyoko-chan?" He murmured. His eyes went wide when she smiled and turned away, then continued to walk.
He stopped in his tracks, turned and tried to follow her, losing her in the busy airport. When he finally reached the exits, she was nowhere to be found. He never noticed how she'd stepped off into the shadows, put on a brunette wig, and green contacts. He never saw the red silk blouse she pulled from her large purse and put on over her black tank top or, the black flats she traded for red.
He looked for her over the heads of many. He searched the faces that entered the cabs waiting at the curb, only to be disappointed. She smiled as she watched him enter the LME limousine. Oh yes, he would see her again one day. Just not today. Today she was doing reconnaissance and her quarry was being retrieved by his bodyguard. She shook her head. So predictable. She thought. Tonight he would most likely be visiting his gentleman's club in the red-light district and inspecting his whores. She could easily pick him off over the weekend, after he settled in and took care of his underlings. Come Monday morning, many of a Yakuza wannabe would be disappointed that their sponsor would not be able to assist them in their venture into the glamorous life of organized crime. After that, she would see exactly what her fairy prince had been up to all of the years they were apart.