Standard disclaimers apply.
Author's Notes: Tea, tea, tea!!! *swirly eyes*hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..Boston coffee cake and espresso...yum...*giggle* hey get off me *thud* hahahah!!! *grabs beer from assassin Syaoran* Letshhh be merrrrrrrryyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!! *collapses on the carpet, unconscious*
MuMu: *blink* HOE?! *gives rei-chan a gentle nudge* She's out cold.
Operation RAGE: The Assassin
CHAPTER SEVEN: Operation RAGE: The Assassin
Part I: Bonita's
How far would one go for his profession?
The question nibbled at the back of my mind as I silently trailed behind the fat gentleman from the counter towards my designated room with Sakura's limp figure nestled securely within my arms. I forcefully blocked out the old man's exuberant chatter, my mind focused on the incredible turn my mission has suddenly taken.
I had been walking back towards the hotel, my mind reeling with fury at my previous encounter with Yue, when I caught sight of the pretty receptionist hunched against the wall across the bus stop where I stood. In normal circumstances, I would have not given her any mind and just went on my own way. But the telltale signs of stress and shock radiating from her quaking form perturbed my mind. I watched her take a deep breath and stared with morbid fascination at her rapidly paling cheeks. Without really knowing, and without really caring, I took a step towards her general direction, fully intent on displaying some semblance of kindness by asking her if she was all right, when I noticed her knees suddenly buckle underneath her. I took off running towards her, my blood uncharacteristically pounding loudly in my ears and reached her just in time to save her body from coming into contact with the hard asphalt.
Sitting there with her body sprawled halfway over my legs, I contemplated whether or not I should just leave her lying there and count on another passing good samaritan to attend to her, or at least alert someone from the hotel of her condition, but the hollowed voice whispering urgently in my ear that was what remained of my conscience wouldn't permit me to just abandon her in her current state. I had no choice. I lifted her up in my arms and carried her towards my car. Taking her back with me to the Renaissance was out of the question. It would draw too much attention to myself.
Attention that I did not need.
Which is why I find myself walking along the threadbare carpet of Bonita's, a local motel located about four blocks west of the hotel district, in a small dreary street that housed the wilder and bolder establishments in Tomoeda. I came across the shabby motel while doing an early reconnaissance around the area, back before I started trailing Fujitaka. The accommodations were horrible, but it would have to make do if I didn't want to risk calling unwanted attention.
The bellhop, Phil, as he introduced himself to me, paused in front of a simple, run down door with a painted on Room 45 on its surface. "Here ya go, kid. Anythin' else ya n' da little lady need?" His eyes fastened on to my face like Velcro as his left arm pushed the door wide open.
Briefly, I glanced down at my burden. Kinomoto Sakura's face was drawn, and her parched lips were half open as she breathed in and out softly. From my line of vision I could barely make out her moist, raspberry colored tongue, and it took a lot of my self-control to quash the happy hentai thoughts stirring in my mind. "Some water and ice." I flatly replied as I struggled to control my suddenly raging hormones. Now was not the time and place for such unchastened thoughts. "And a couple of Tylenol for her headache when she wakes up."
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. "Oh. Kinky, a'nt yah? You really can't tell these days." He told me cheerfully as I followed him into the shabby interior of the room bearing my precious carriage. "But lemme give ya some advice. Tylenol ain't gonna do it, y'know? If we're on the same line of thinking, I suggest using a stronger drug. Maybe somethin' like--"
I glared dangerously at him. "Leave now. You're services aren't needed anymore." I spat out harshly, my mounting dislike for the man increasing up another notch as he shrugged nonchalantly in response. Politicians and civilians alike have all cracked under the intensity of my glare, but he seemed to be immune to it. Instead he turned his back on me and placed the leather case that contained my laptop on the scrubbed wooden table against the wall. I watched his actions for a second in irritation, before turning towards the bed and gently laying Sakura's prone form on the threadbare matress. I hesitated, torn between performing the act or not, but in the end just shrugged carelessly and stripped her of her jacket and sandals, leaving her in her short denim skirt and baby pink tanktop. Fresh enough to be comfortable, yet dressed enough not to arouse any suspicions. The airconditioning system in the motel seems to not be working properly.
The accommodations that this shabby motel provided were unsatisfactory, to say the least, but it was the comfort it provided that truly mattered. I made the move to sit on the floor, fully intent on staying there until my coincidental patient had regained consciousness, when I noticed Phil standing at the foot of the bed wearing an expectant expression on his pudgy face. "What?"
He snorted. "You ain't at no flea market, buddy. You made me carry your shit; you gotta pay for it." He flashed me a gap-toothed smile before rubbing his thumb against his middle finger in a circular motion. "Pay up, kid, and I'll leave ya and d' little popsie alone."
I ground my jaws together before reaching into my pocket for some spare bills. I sincerely wanted to draw on him, knowing that a gun against his salacious face was enough to send his rampaging hormones to hell, but I held back. The Commander's temperament was worse than Phil's, and the annoying man is still alive up to now. Instead, I tossed a hundred yen on the bed. "Leave now." I deadpanned.
Phil bent forward to grab the money, and while he did so, raked an eye across the smooth expanse of Sakura's bare legs.
I had forgotten to cover her state of half nudity with a blanket.
"She is a pretty little thing, ne?" He murmured huskily, the beginnings of the fire of lust sparking his eyes as he all but licked his lips at the glorious sight in front of him. "You gotta tell d' ole man where ya picked this gorgeous up. I have to get a taste of her some--"
I had my gun pressed against his neck in a blink of an eye, and I smirked in dark amusement as I watched his eyes widene almost comically at the sight. Just a simple, lustful action directed towards my patient had provoked my legendary self-control into response. Interesting.
"I am only inches away from shutting you up for good, PHIL." I threatened him in a sepulchral voice, all traces of false tolerance gone as I shoved my weapon firmly against his throat. "Leave now, before my self control snaps and I pull this trigger."
"Ye-yes, sir." Phil answered me in a nervous stutter, his eyes darting briefly towards the door, to the telephone on the side table, before going back to my face. It was amusing to watch the bravado of the bellhop being shredded to bits when waved with a gun.
I raised an imposing eyebrow at him. "If I get wind that you have shared this little encounter to anyone of your friends, rest assured that I will hunt you down and shove this barrel up your hentai ass before blowing it up. You hear me?" I spoke calmly, but my voice carried several degrees of threat in it that it didn't surprise me at the very least when I saw a steadily growing spot travelling down the frightened bellhop's pant leg.
He had wet himself in fear. How...civilian.
I laughed harshly before letting go of my death grip on the front of the man's shirt, and gestured towards the direction of the door with my hand holding the gun. "Well, Phil?" I said expectantly, letting my eyes to briefly stray towards the still open door suggestively.
He was out of the room like a gunshot. I continued standing there listening to his hurried footsteps scurrying away from the room, feeling confident enough to not worry about him going to the police and spilling his story. In all likelihood, the sadistic bastard would just go back to his post and act naturally in front of his co-workers. I've known enough seedy men in my life to predict their actions in my sleep. Besides, in all likelihood, I wasn't even the first one who had pulled the same stunt on him.
A slight movement from the person on the bed caught my eye, and I turned to glance back at her, my expression softening at the sight of Sakura nestled comfortably against the shabby covers. I could not contain the slight smile that graced my features as I stared down at her serene form. She looked so peaceful that it took me a moment to remember that she was actually the only daughter of my assignment.
My eyes immediately hardened at the thought, and I dropped into a seat on the wooden chair at the foot of the bed, purposefully turning my back at her to pull my laptop out from its case. It had been almost fourteen hours since I installed the phone tap in Fujitaka's study, and during those times I had not had the opportunity to check if there had been any important calls the sensei had made or received. The tap I had installed was a prototype of my own invention, which enables me to record the conversation without having to actively listen to it. I came up with the new contraption after getting fed up with the Federation's rather outdated model, which required the tapper to be listening directly in order to record it.
Typing my password on the blinking cursor, I watched impassively as the screen slowly flickered to life, my mind quickly shifting back to assassin mode. I knew that I have to somehow get over the growing obsession I have on Kinomoto's daughter if I plan to make this job a clean one. Distractions were not permitted in my line of work. Focus was a necessity, for without it I could very well be dead.
The software flashed, and upon seeing the encrypted message on the opening screen I could not help but smile. Bingo. Fujitaka received a call, and from the looks of it, the call seemed to concern my mission.
I pulled out my headphones from the leather bag and immediately got to work on connecting them to my computer, my heart light at the small success I had achieved. If all things go well, this mission might be over the day after tomorrow. It was never in my nature to procrastinate, in life or on missions. The longer it took me to eliminate a target, the more I grow impatient and less creative on their deaths. Which was why the Federation knew enough to wire me side jobs to perform between long-term assignments. 'To ease the boredom and warm up the gun arm,' The Commander was always fond of commenting whenever he contacts me to check on my progress. 'A bored Li Syaoran is always a dangerous thing, for we all know what he is capable of doing.'
Up until now, the expression still manages to crack me up.
Probably because I knew that his deduction was right.
Fastening the headphones securely in my ears, I clicked the 'Play' button on the screen, and the voices of two men came on. I listened hard on the conversation between the two of them, noting with slight amusement their obvious attempts of keeping the information exchange discreet.
Hamaki did not divulge much. He mainly wanted to ensure that the sensei's fax was on and connected to receive the details. Hmmm. It seemed that these men were a lot smarter than I thought they were. It was obvious that the assassinations of their comrades have somehow alerted them of the urgency and danger of the situation.
Shaking my head in mild disappointment, I shut off the software and disengaged the headphones from my computer as my mind whirred to formulate a crude plan on how I was going to see those classified files for myself. It was important that I get my hands on those files from Hamaki, for I somehow doubt that the information the Federation had supplied me was complete.
It disgusts me how the Commander and his lackeys disclose information from the people in their employ. I had known of this little quirk for years but never really cared to question their motives. I was certain that their secrecy was with reason, but whether or not the reasons were beneficial to us killers or to them was somewhat questionable.
Come to think of it...Why was I curious about this operation anyway? Knowing the full details behind the assassination was irrelevant, since I would still be paid for my services even if I didn't. But for some reason, my senses were telling me that the information regarding Operation RAGE was as important as the cause of the assassination itself, which was, as stated in my orders, to 'Eliminate the excavationists who hope to gain instant fame from the exposure of the operation.'
Which leads to the rise of one question: What was so classified about the operation that the Kinomoto excavation team had to be eliminated because of it? Was it beneficial to the country, the Federation, or to that wealthy individual who had paid millions for my confidential services? Whatever the answer was to these questions is beyond me, though I have to say that, for the very first time in my entire career as a paid assassin, I wanted to know the ultimate cause behind my killings.
I tapped the monitor twice with my index finger, brows drawn together in thought. It was obvious that if I wanted more information regarding this murder, I would have to dig around for the answer myself.
Sweat dribbled alternately down my forehead, and I impatiently swiped them away. I was right. The airconditioning in this crappy place was not working properly. I hurriedly slipped my green shirt over my head and flung it haphazardly on the back of the wooden chair. That was much better.
Heaving a quiet sigh, I shut down the computer and pushed it all the way across the table before standing up and walking towards the window. The midday sun was shining brightly; it was only about fifteen minutes more until noon. I sneaked a glance back at the prone figure on the bed and noted to myself that if that was the case, my patient would be cranky and hungry when she wakes up.
One of the first missions I had ever done was an undercover assignment in one grand hotel in America. I was ordered to assume the identity of a Higaru Seiya, a bachelor room boy. My orders were to kill a business tycon named James Montgomery who would be checking in the hotel at an uncertain date. Like any other employee I went through all the shifts, morning, middle, and graveyard. From my experience working in a graveyard shift(1), employees were only given a one hour break, usually at around two and three in the morning. If my calculations were correct, then Sakura's last full meal would probably have been over nine hours ago.
Such a pity that civilians like her have to go through the oddest jobs just to earn enough to live. I think this for the probable reason that I never had to grovel to earn my daily bread. Usually it was the other way around.
It is the source of my 'daily bread' that grovels for redemption as they each knelt piously in front of me, all begging for mercy.
Incidently, the virtue was one of the first ones that left me soon after the massacre.
I turned my gaze back outside the window, my eyes blank and unyielding as I surveyed the bustling metropolis below my line of vision. Throngs of people resembling an army of ants scurried here and there, unmindful of the danger keeping tab of their menial activities a few feet above them. Their normalcy intrigued me, for I had never had the opportunity to experience it the way they do. At the thought something, a force, tugged at my heart, and it took me a few seconds of processing to give name to the emotion that was currently constricting my heart.
Pity.
Funny.
I have never felt pity, especially the one directed to myself.
It was fascinating.
TBC
*Chapter 7 Part 2 is up*
FOOTNOTES:
1. I worked part time at Mandarin Oriental just a year ago, and I know that all shifts only have one midshift break. No, I didn't work the graveyard one, don't be stupid. I was assigned to the nursery, and I spent almost half my day nursing weeping kids with rich pansies and picking up a kilo of cookie crumbs off the carpet. At least the money I got was good...
Author's Notes: Tea, tea, tea!!! *swirly eyes*hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..Boston coffee cake and espresso...yum...*giggle* hey get off me *thud* hahahah!!! *grabs beer from assassin Syaoran* Letshhh be merrrrrrrryyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!! *collapses on the carpet, unconscious*
MuMu: *blink* HOE?! *gives rei-chan a gentle nudge* She's out cold.
Operation RAGE: The Assassin
CHAPTER SEVEN: Operation RAGE: The Assassin
Part I: Bonita's
How far would one go for his profession?
The question nibbled at the back of my mind as I silently trailed behind the fat gentleman from the counter towards my designated room with Sakura's limp figure nestled securely within my arms. I forcefully blocked out the old man's exuberant chatter, my mind focused on the incredible turn my mission has suddenly taken.
I had been walking back towards the hotel, my mind reeling with fury at my previous encounter with Yue, when I caught sight of the pretty receptionist hunched against the wall across the bus stop where I stood. In normal circumstances, I would have not given her any mind and just went on my own way. But the telltale signs of stress and shock radiating from her quaking form perturbed my mind. I watched her take a deep breath and stared with morbid fascination at her rapidly paling cheeks. Without really knowing, and without really caring, I took a step towards her general direction, fully intent on displaying some semblance of kindness by asking her if she was all right, when I noticed her knees suddenly buckle underneath her. I took off running towards her, my blood uncharacteristically pounding loudly in my ears and reached her just in time to save her body from coming into contact with the hard asphalt.
Sitting there with her body sprawled halfway over my legs, I contemplated whether or not I should just leave her lying there and count on another passing good samaritan to attend to her, or at least alert someone from the hotel of her condition, but the hollowed voice whispering urgently in my ear that was what remained of my conscience wouldn't permit me to just abandon her in her current state. I had no choice. I lifted her up in my arms and carried her towards my car. Taking her back with me to the Renaissance was out of the question. It would draw too much attention to myself.
Attention that I did not need.
Which is why I find myself walking along the threadbare carpet of Bonita's, a local motel located about four blocks west of the hotel district, in a small dreary street that housed the wilder and bolder establishments in Tomoeda. I came across the shabby motel while doing an early reconnaissance around the area, back before I started trailing Fujitaka. The accommodations were horrible, but it would have to make do if I didn't want to risk calling unwanted attention.
The bellhop, Phil, as he introduced himself to me, paused in front of a simple, run down door with a painted on Room 45 on its surface. "Here ya go, kid. Anythin' else ya n' da little lady need?" His eyes fastened on to my face like Velcro as his left arm pushed the door wide open.
Briefly, I glanced down at my burden. Kinomoto Sakura's face was drawn, and her parched lips were half open as she breathed in and out softly. From my line of vision I could barely make out her moist, raspberry colored tongue, and it took a lot of my self-control to quash the happy hentai thoughts stirring in my mind. "Some water and ice." I flatly replied as I struggled to control my suddenly raging hormones. Now was not the time and place for such unchastened thoughts. "And a couple of Tylenol for her headache when she wakes up."
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me. "Oh. Kinky, a'nt yah? You really can't tell these days." He told me cheerfully as I followed him into the shabby interior of the room bearing my precious carriage. "But lemme give ya some advice. Tylenol ain't gonna do it, y'know? If we're on the same line of thinking, I suggest using a stronger drug. Maybe somethin' like--"
I glared dangerously at him. "Leave now. You're services aren't needed anymore." I spat out harshly, my mounting dislike for the man increasing up another notch as he shrugged nonchalantly in response. Politicians and civilians alike have all cracked under the intensity of my glare, but he seemed to be immune to it. Instead he turned his back on me and placed the leather case that contained my laptop on the scrubbed wooden table against the wall. I watched his actions for a second in irritation, before turning towards the bed and gently laying Sakura's prone form on the threadbare matress. I hesitated, torn between performing the act or not, but in the end just shrugged carelessly and stripped her of her jacket and sandals, leaving her in her short denim skirt and baby pink tanktop. Fresh enough to be comfortable, yet dressed enough not to arouse any suspicions. The airconditioning system in the motel seems to not be working properly.
The accommodations that this shabby motel provided were unsatisfactory, to say the least, but it was the comfort it provided that truly mattered. I made the move to sit on the floor, fully intent on staying there until my coincidental patient had regained consciousness, when I noticed Phil standing at the foot of the bed wearing an expectant expression on his pudgy face. "What?"
He snorted. "You ain't at no flea market, buddy. You made me carry your shit; you gotta pay for it." He flashed me a gap-toothed smile before rubbing his thumb against his middle finger in a circular motion. "Pay up, kid, and I'll leave ya and d' little popsie alone."
I ground my jaws together before reaching into my pocket for some spare bills. I sincerely wanted to draw on him, knowing that a gun against his salacious face was enough to send his rampaging hormones to hell, but I held back. The Commander's temperament was worse than Phil's, and the annoying man is still alive up to now. Instead, I tossed a hundred yen on the bed. "Leave now." I deadpanned.
Phil bent forward to grab the money, and while he did so, raked an eye across the smooth expanse of Sakura's bare legs.
I had forgotten to cover her state of half nudity with a blanket.
"She is a pretty little thing, ne?" He murmured huskily, the beginnings of the fire of lust sparking his eyes as he all but licked his lips at the glorious sight in front of him. "You gotta tell d' ole man where ya picked this gorgeous up. I have to get a taste of her some--"
I had my gun pressed against his neck in a blink of an eye, and I smirked in dark amusement as I watched his eyes widene almost comically at the sight. Just a simple, lustful action directed towards my patient had provoked my legendary self-control into response. Interesting.
"I am only inches away from shutting you up for good, PHIL." I threatened him in a sepulchral voice, all traces of false tolerance gone as I shoved my weapon firmly against his throat. "Leave now, before my self control snaps and I pull this trigger."
"Ye-yes, sir." Phil answered me in a nervous stutter, his eyes darting briefly towards the door, to the telephone on the side table, before going back to my face. It was amusing to watch the bravado of the bellhop being shredded to bits when waved with a gun.
I raised an imposing eyebrow at him. "If I get wind that you have shared this little encounter to anyone of your friends, rest assured that I will hunt you down and shove this barrel up your hentai ass before blowing it up. You hear me?" I spoke calmly, but my voice carried several degrees of threat in it that it didn't surprise me at the very least when I saw a steadily growing spot travelling down the frightened bellhop's pant leg.
He had wet himself in fear. How...civilian.
I laughed harshly before letting go of my death grip on the front of the man's shirt, and gestured towards the direction of the door with my hand holding the gun. "Well, Phil?" I said expectantly, letting my eyes to briefly stray towards the still open door suggestively.
He was out of the room like a gunshot. I continued standing there listening to his hurried footsteps scurrying away from the room, feeling confident enough to not worry about him going to the police and spilling his story. In all likelihood, the sadistic bastard would just go back to his post and act naturally in front of his co-workers. I've known enough seedy men in my life to predict their actions in my sleep. Besides, in all likelihood, I wasn't even the first one who had pulled the same stunt on him.
A slight movement from the person on the bed caught my eye, and I turned to glance back at her, my expression softening at the sight of Sakura nestled comfortably against the shabby covers. I could not contain the slight smile that graced my features as I stared down at her serene form. She looked so peaceful that it took me a moment to remember that she was actually the only daughter of my assignment.
My eyes immediately hardened at the thought, and I dropped into a seat on the wooden chair at the foot of the bed, purposefully turning my back at her to pull my laptop out from its case. It had been almost fourteen hours since I installed the phone tap in Fujitaka's study, and during those times I had not had the opportunity to check if there had been any important calls the sensei had made or received. The tap I had installed was a prototype of my own invention, which enables me to record the conversation without having to actively listen to it. I came up with the new contraption after getting fed up with the Federation's rather outdated model, which required the tapper to be listening directly in order to record it.
Typing my password on the blinking cursor, I watched impassively as the screen slowly flickered to life, my mind quickly shifting back to assassin mode. I knew that I have to somehow get over the growing obsession I have on Kinomoto's daughter if I plan to make this job a clean one. Distractions were not permitted in my line of work. Focus was a necessity, for without it I could very well be dead.
The software flashed, and upon seeing the encrypted message on the opening screen I could not help but smile. Bingo. Fujitaka received a call, and from the looks of it, the call seemed to concern my mission.
I pulled out my headphones from the leather bag and immediately got to work on connecting them to my computer, my heart light at the small success I had achieved. If all things go well, this mission might be over the day after tomorrow. It was never in my nature to procrastinate, in life or on missions. The longer it took me to eliminate a target, the more I grow impatient and less creative on their deaths. Which was why the Federation knew enough to wire me side jobs to perform between long-term assignments. 'To ease the boredom and warm up the gun arm,' The Commander was always fond of commenting whenever he contacts me to check on my progress. 'A bored Li Syaoran is always a dangerous thing, for we all know what he is capable of doing.'
Up until now, the expression still manages to crack me up.
Probably because I knew that his deduction was right.
Fastening the headphones securely in my ears, I clicked the 'Play' button on the screen, and the voices of two men came on. I listened hard on the conversation between the two of them, noting with slight amusement their obvious attempts of keeping the information exchange discreet.
Hamaki did not divulge much. He mainly wanted to ensure that the sensei's fax was on and connected to receive the details. Hmmm. It seemed that these men were a lot smarter than I thought they were. It was obvious that the assassinations of their comrades have somehow alerted them of the urgency and danger of the situation.
Shaking my head in mild disappointment, I shut off the software and disengaged the headphones from my computer as my mind whirred to formulate a crude plan on how I was going to see those classified files for myself. It was important that I get my hands on those files from Hamaki, for I somehow doubt that the information the Federation had supplied me was complete.
It disgusts me how the Commander and his lackeys disclose information from the people in their employ. I had known of this little quirk for years but never really cared to question their motives. I was certain that their secrecy was with reason, but whether or not the reasons were beneficial to us killers or to them was somewhat questionable.
Come to think of it...Why was I curious about this operation anyway? Knowing the full details behind the assassination was irrelevant, since I would still be paid for my services even if I didn't. But for some reason, my senses were telling me that the information regarding Operation RAGE was as important as the cause of the assassination itself, which was, as stated in my orders, to 'Eliminate the excavationists who hope to gain instant fame from the exposure of the operation.'
Which leads to the rise of one question: What was so classified about the operation that the Kinomoto excavation team had to be eliminated because of it? Was it beneficial to the country, the Federation, or to that wealthy individual who had paid millions for my confidential services? Whatever the answer was to these questions is beyond me, though I have to say that, for the very first time in my entire career as a paid assassin, I wanted to know the ultimate cause behind my killings.
I tapped the monitor twice with my index finger, brows drawn together in thought. It was obvious that if I wanted more information regarding this murder, I would have to dig around for the answer myself.
Sweat dribbled alternately down my forehead, and I impatiently swiped them away. I was right. The airconditioning in this crappy place was not working properly. I hurriedly slipped my green shirt over my head and flung it haphazardly on the back of the wooden chair. That was much better.
Heaving a quiet sigh, I shut down the computer and pushed it all the way across the table before standing up and walking towards the window. The midday sun was shining brightly; it was only about fifteen minutes more until noon. I sneaked a glance back at the prone figure on the bed and noted to myself that if that was the case, my patient would be cranky and hungry when she wakes up.
One of the first missions I had ever done was an undercover assignment in one grand hotel in America. I was ordered to assume the identity of a Higaru Seiya, a bachelor room boy. My orders were to kill a business tycon named James Montgomery who would be checking in the hotel at an uncertain date. Like any other employee I went through all the shifts, morning, middle, and graveyard. From my experience working in a graveyard shift(1), employees were only given a one hour break, usually at around two and three in the morning. If my calculations were correct, then Sakura's last full meal would probably have been over nine hours ago.
Such a pity that civilians like her have to go through the oddest jobs just to earn enough to live. I think this for the probable reason that I never had to grovel to earn my daily bread. Usually it was the other way around.
It is the source of my 'daily bread' that grovels for redemption as they each knelt piously in front of me, all begging for mercy.
Incidently, the virtue was one of the first ones that left me soon after the massacre.
I turned my gaze back outside the window, my eyes blank and unyielding as I surveyed the bustling metropolis below my line of vision. Throngs of people resembling an army of ants scurried here and there, unmindful of the danger keeping tab of their menial activities a few feet above them. Their normalcy intrigued me, for I had never had the opportunity to experience it the way they do. At the thought something, a force, tugged at my heart, and it took me a few seconds of processing to give name to the emotion that was currently constricting my heart.
Pity.
Funny.
I have never felt pity, especially the one directed to myself.
It was fascinating.
TBC
*Chapter 7 Part 2 is up*
FOOTNOTES:
1. I worked part time at Mandarin Oriental just a year ago, and I know that all shifts only have one midshift break. No, I didn't work the graveyard one, don't be stupid. I was assigned to the nursery, and I spent almost half my day nursing weeping kids with rich pansies and picking up a kilo of cookie crumbs off the carpet. At least the money I got was good...