This part of The story will be told in third person.

Be My Valentine

"Oh my god, this is so cute!" said the gorgeous young redhead. She lifted the pink suede outfit, off the rack, and held it up for the three other girls to see, "What do you guys think?" she asked.

"Val that is so hot!" said Priscilla, Lacey, and Lydia, simultaneously, nodding their heads up and down like marionettes, "It will look really good on you!" they furthered.

Val turned her head towards them and playfully snarled her dainty red lips, "What are you bitches sharing the same brain or something?" She asked.

Priscilla, Lacey, and Lydia all froze, paralyzed with fear, "N-no Val, we were just all agreeing that that outfit would make you look really hot..." said Lacey, as she dropped her eyes to the floor.

Val laughed, "Lighten up you idiots, I was just joking! Could you be anymore post traumatic?" Val flung her hair back and trained her attention on the outfit.

The other three girls burst into uproarious laughter, forced as it was. They knew, like everyone else, to never stay silent when Val made a joke, ever.

Val lifted the price tag and grimaced, "Can you believe that they want 350 dollars for this piece of shit?" She grumbled.

"Totally, I mean it looks good but it isn't that great." said Priscilla as she tossed her flowing blonde mane off the shoulder.

"Yes it does." Val replied looking Priscilla straight in the eye. Val's expression had turned noticeably more serious.

"No-No, I mean it is totally great but the average person shouldn't have to pay that much for it, y'know? But yeah you're totally right, Val." Priscilla was pleased with how she quickly recovered.

"Pris, you are so full of shit I swear," Val laughed, as she fumbled around inside her purse, "Besides, it's not like I'm paying for it." Val pulled four platinum Mastercards out of her hand bag.

"Holy shit, Val! This is so cool! Where did you get them?" said Lacey.

Lydia and Priscilla felt a bit uneasy; however, they kept up the charade. Thanks to Val they were two of the most popular girls at Klein Forest High school; and no one ever picked on them. There were major drawbacks to hanging out with Val, but there were perks too, "Yeah, where did you get them Val?"

"Should it matter? I swear, you three are a bunch of lamers. Well, anyway I am going to buy this cute little suede outfit, and I want the rest of you to buy something that matches," Val handed each of them a platinum card, "Buy something pink and low cut. We should totally do a hot pink theme on Monday and blow their minds!" said Val.

The three girls all nodded their heads jubilantly, "Totally! Val you are the best!" they all said.

"I know." Val smiled and took the hot pink outfit to the check out counter.

Most sixteen year old high school juniors did not carry around multiple platinum card, but most of them were not Valentine Jordan.

Valentine Jordan was the hottest (so all of stalls in the boy's bathroom, and lockerroom, read), most popular, girl at Klein Forest High. All of the girls wanted to be like her and all of the guys wanted to bang her. If high school were Hollywood then Valentine Jordan would have been the equivalent of Marilyn Monroe. Everyday she drove up in her hot pink Mustang convertible was like a red carpet event. There were even websites developed to her. There was not one student or faculty member that didn't know her name.

Valentine stood 5'6 inches tall and had flowing red hair the hue of flaming embers. Her skin was flawlessly white without the slightest trace of spot or blemish (thanks to sunscreen and regular exfoliation). Her beautiful doe eyes sparkled like glittering green emeralds. Val prided herself on being the hottest girl in school, without having to look like the atypical SoCal blonde bimbo. It had now become trendy for girls to dye their hair red, all because of Valentine. She loved working out and staying in shape. With her low carb diet and intense exercise regime Valentine had a better shape than all of the girls on the cheerleading squad. However, she still felt the need to stand out. Valentine had always had a great body, but she was the first girl—before senior year—in her class to get a boob job (however, everyone believed that they were her natural boobs).

Valentine prided herself on, what she called, 'Social work.' Lydia Barns, Priscilla Slater, and Lacey Stevens, had been, as she described them, "Three of the geekiest, fugliest, bitches that I have ever seen." However, Valentine befriended and transformed them into three of the most desirable girls in school. "The Valentines" became the most powerful clique in school, and everyone looked up to them for social acceptance. If anyone was even seen talking to Valentine Jordan their social status was boosted several notches.

It was good to be Valentine Jordan. But, the life of a high school queen bee grew to be redundant a lot of the time. That is why Val enjoyed her new part-time job so much.

"May I see your ID please?" the saleswoman asked with a suspicious glare .

Val rolled her eyes and produced her identification. The ID card read, "Sesame Plexar." "Is there anything else?" Val asked nonchalantly.

"Wow, you look so young to be 30. What is your secret?" The sales lady's tone was smarmy and condescending.

Valentine grew angrier, "Look, either ring this up or I go and talk to the manager you lowly piss on. I am buying this outfit with my own money. I don't have to explain jack shit to you, comprende?" She spat.

The sales associate didn't say another word. She proceeded to ring up Valentine's items and bag them.

"Thank you..." said Valentine. Suddenly, her pager went off. She pulled the clip from her waist band and looked at the numbers, "666..." her lips curled into a smile as she walked out of the department store.

Val took out her cellular phone and went into the hustle and bustle of the crowded mall. She punched in several numbers and put the receiver to her ear.

"Hello..." said a male voice.

"Drake, it's me. I just got your page. What's the 411?" Said Val, all semblance of bubbliness gone.

"I have a job for you sweetie..."

"Cool, where, who?!"

"Southwest Houston. The LoneStar Lodge. Snitch just gave me the tip." He furthered.

"What happened?"

"Someone's after our employer..."

"Who is it? Anyone we know?"

"Be quiet, let me explain. Snitch said that her name was Tamara Jackson, but he thinks it's an alias. Her handle is "Mongoose."

"Wait a second—" Valentine paused. She was confused, "I thought In situations like this I was the second go to operative?"

"You are. She killed our man."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me? She killed Cade?!"

"Yeah, she ain't no amateur, that's for sure. I need you to find her and wipe her slate clean. But first I need you to head over to the crime scene—with a cleaner—and tidy it up."

"Oh yeah, send me to do the dirty work," said Valentine, sardonically, "Where am I going to find a cleaner at this late date?"

"Girl, you are acting like you don't know me. Ditch your dizzy friends and find the big, bald, black janitor. That's the cleaner."

"Then what?"

"Track her down and do what you do so well."

Valentine laughed, "Of course. Okay, I'm audi. I'll get back with you ASAP." She said before clicking the phone off.

Val felt like she could walk on air. She hadn't had a job in the last few months. Sure, she had killed a few people here and there but none that mattered too much, except Katie Kelsey. Katie Kelsey had been her chief rival for homecoming queen over a year ago. Katie was blonde, beautiful, and very—naturally—well endowed. Val didn't care so much that Katie was in the lead for homecoming queen, but she did have a personal problem with her. Val's boyfriend—Gabe—had a thing for the buxom blonde cheerleader.

After cheerleading practice one night Valentine hid in the backseat of Katie's car with a chainsaw...

After several days Katie Kelsey was officially declared missing.

Amber alerts were issued and several students were interrogated, including Val, but the authorities never found any evidence of foul play. No one ever found the body either. Katie had just 'vanished'.

Katie Kelsey was a good girl, but she made the heinous mistake of crossing a professional assassin, a complete no-no.

Val told Lydia, Priscilla, and Lacey that she had some urgent business to attend to. The girls—even though they would have to walk home, 15 miles—said nothing in protest. They had all seen Val pissed and no one ever wanted to get on her bad side.

Val drove up to the large dumpster that sat in back of the mall. She got out of her car and made sure that no one was around. She opened up the trunk and spotted her brief case. Val sprung the latch and inside the brief case was a broken down military assault rifle, fucking Mongoose, she thought, You haven't tangled with The Wildcat, yet, bitch.

"Wildcat." A deep booming base voice said.

Val turned around to see a large, muscular, black man standing behind her. He was dressed in a blue janitor's outfit and dark sunglasses, "You the cleaner?" She asked.

"At your service." He replied.

"Get in, we have work to do."

Valentine and The Cleaner arrived at the Lonestar Lodge a few hours after the entire debacle had gone down. Val parked her care right across the street from the lodge.

"Alright, the coast is clear—"

"Wait a minute." The cleaner said, as he held his hand up to silence her.

Suddenly, a frantic elderly couple came hobbling out of the front door of the lodge.

"Fuck!" Valentine whispered, "Why can't this ever be easy?" she asked.

"When did you expect this to ever be easy." Said The Cleaner, as he cocked the hammer on his 45 caliber pistol and handed it to Val, "I'll get my things ready and you handle those two."

Val took out a piece of Hubba Bubba gum from her purse and tossed it in her mouth. I come here to clean shit up and now I gotta fake the death of two frantic old people, just fucking peachy.

"Oh my god George, what happened in there? We have to call the police!" said Martha Cranhill. The Cranhill's had traveled down to Houston, Texas—from Amarillo—to go sightseeing for the weekend. After their retirement George and Martha kept their marriage alive with spontaneity and travel.

However, nothing could have been more adrenaline inducing than finding several slain bodies littering a quiet motel.

George took out his asthma inhaler and began to breathe in heavily. Martha was carrying on and on, but it was all he could do to catch his breath after what he had seen, "Martha....we...need to get...to a...phone." He said, finally able to breathe.

"Oh George this is awful, who could have done such a thing?" She said. Martha was caught in hysterics when she saw a beautiful young woman walking across the street. The woman—or girl—was a strikingly gorgeous red head dressed in tight low rise blue jeans, high heels, and half shirt that accentuated very ample bosom, Why do these young girls dress like such whores these days? thought Martha. Although Martha Cranhill disapproved her style of dress she was quite thrilled to see the young girl, "Oh thank god you're here! Do you have a cellular phone? We have to call the poli—"

Martha heard a small 'POP' and everything suddenly went black. The bullet went into her forehead and exited out the back of her skull, killing her instantly. Her body dropped to the ground in a heap, as the blood, brain matter, and bits of fractured skull bone seeped onto the green grass.

George watched in horror as his wife's body fell at the feet of the young girl. George began hyperventilating as he pulled out his asthma inhaler again. He tried to turn and run, but it was too little too late. The 'Pop' went off again. George felt like a rock had hit him in the back of the head. Everything went black and his body crashed to the ground.

"All finished here...Now, clean up this mess before we do the lodge." Val said into her headset. She did not give a second thought to the bodies that lie lifeless on the ground. It was all in a days work. Val placed the gun back in its holster and proceeded into the lodge.

To Be Continued