Ok, I know, I'm a bit obsessed with Janet Evanovich stories but I really wanted to write something like this so…hope you people like it!
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My life is a long train of shit.
I'm not kidding! I had to do a street shooting because of my bloody stubbornness!
I'm sorry, I should explain myself before ranting on like this.
My name is Katalina, I am 17 years old, tall, short brown haired, dark eyed, tanned skinned, I love black and hate pink, the usual.
My parents died when I was very little and I live on the streets, stealing and killing for money. I built myself a good enough reputation and I get good deals once in a while.
Also because I do street shooting. Street shooting is when your target is surrounded, literally, by bodyguards and you have to shoot him in the middle of the street.
70 percent chances of getting caught, 5 percent chances of getting away and 25 percent chances of getting killed.
Great hunh? Well I'm one of the few who are crazy enough to do this and I accepted a job like that a couple days ago.
It went relatively smoothly. Until my employer failed to show up to pay me.
The men at the bar where I usually pick up my jobs have the good presence of mind to leave me alone and avoid me.
My moods are well known. Especially when a guy thinks he can fuck with me.
"Fang." I hiss, waking a drunken dude with skin so white it's almost transparent.
"Wha…?"
"I need to use your laptop." I look around, hating to have to show myself more than a couple minutes in the daylight because of course, this idiot decided to go for a walk and crash practically in the middle of the street!
He hands me the keys and I walk off, pulling the cloak more firmly around my frail body.
Its not really that I'm cold, its more that I have a few guys after me. Jealousy probably. I never asked.
Maybe its also because I killed one of their guys?
Shrugging, I make my way into Fang's disgustingly messy apartment and search for a couple minutes before finding the PC.
I flip it open, sit cross legged in front of it, pushing aside dirty clothes and newspaper alike, keeping my gun in reach then start typing in the name, phone number and appearance of my client.
After half an hour, I come up with an address, a different name and a serious blood hunger.
I slip out, lock the door, hide the keys under the mat and slip away in the shadows, almost scaring a granny to death.
I arrive at the address and look at it thoughtfully. He sure as hell was rich.
I say was because when I'm through with him, there won't be much left.
A few guy guard the entrance, huge, Cuban HOT, looking at me suspiciously.
Knowing they couldn't see whether or not I had a phone, I slip it to my ear and turn ever so slowly, pretending to listen sorrowfully to something my imaginary caller says so they can think I am on a conversation.
After a while, I pretend to cry, shut the phone, sending it whirl across the passenger seat and zoom out.
I am a good actress and it served me well quite a few times.
I'll take care of that rat bastard when he decides to go for a walk.
The wait goes on for a day or two, me staying in the shadows, mentally going over all the things I could do to him until FINALLY, the jerk decides to go shopping.
I know which kind of plaza he'll go to so I take a shortcut and arrive earlier, pretty sure his bodyguards would have noticed a tail.
His black truck soon parks right in front of the door and he steps out, shading his eyes with his hand and walking in, a huge, dark skinned guy right behind him.
Yow…he won't be easy to get but…damn am I NOT going to abandon!
I walk in also and head straight for Victoria's Secret, knowing full well even super trained bodyguards would rather turn their heads then enter this little shop full of lingerie and kinky women stuff.
"Trailing someone Black Cat?"
I smile as my friend, Clara, owner of the shop peeks over my shoulder, almost gagging at the bodyguard.
Black Cat is my street name and since I never knew my middle name, I got used to it for everything.
My client, John Doe, (hehe), goes to get a hair cut and I take this as my one and only chance to get my money from that no good traitor.
In outlaw code, if you break one of The Rules, you are considered a traitor, will possibly get shot and won't ever be served again.
I slip into the other shop, hearing Clara tut and slither over to the new help, a girl my age who is in dept to me.
"Give me your uniform." I order, eyes fixed on the door to the shop.
The ex-ho, Pinky, jumps then recognizing me, nods and hands it over wordlessly.
I thank her, slip it on and walk out.
My client sits in a chair and mentions for me to take care of him, not recognizing me.
"Hello mister Doe, had a nice morning today?" I ask him sweetly, washing his hair.
He nods, not even hearing my VERY large hint of sarcasm. What a prick.
After a couple minutes of shampooing and head massage, I move him to a seat and take a few sisors out along with a brush and comb.
"What would you like?" I ask him, my voice overly sugary.
Just as he is about to tell me, he really looks at me and his eyes widen.
"You." He whispers, paling considerably.
"Why yes. Recognize me?" I grip his shoulder to turn him a little, giving him a bruise at the same time and smiling as he winces.
"Now. Hold still."
His eyes follow my hands wearily as I snip off chunks of his hair and thoroughly enjoying myself.
After half an hour of being silent, Doe probably pissing his pants each time my hand approaches his face I make some final touches, adds some gel and spin him a little to look at my work.
"There we are sir."
He looks at himself in the mirror and his mouth opens in pure horror.
I highlighted a couple hairs, made his hair different lengths everywhere. All in all he looks really cool punkish.
"If you want I could add some pink to that?" I ask, smiling and almost giggling.
He turns to me, livid, looking like he could murder someone but guessing I better not be his target.
"How much will that be?" He asks stiffly.
His bodyguard approaches a little but the guy holds his hand up, looking panicked.
He reaches for his purse but I pull it out of my pocket, count a thousand for the job and 45 for the haircut, handing it back to him once I'm finished.
His face is set in a grim scowl of annoyance, fear and hate.
I carefully wipe all traces of emotions and wait for him to look down.
He holds my gaze for a full minute before looking to the bodyguard who has watched the exchange carefully.
I told him clearly with my eyes that if he were ever to try something like this again, he wouldn't live to talk about it.
I smile a fake, barely-there smile and walk away.
The rest of the day is spent walking contentedly through dark streets, thinking of what to buy with the money.
I have enough to pay for my room at the bar for a couple months and way enough to survive a while.
Smiling, I make my way to a small 7/11, buy a few cans of coke with a couple packets of chewing gums and go out, inhaling deeply the night air.
"Black!" A voice hisses. Sighting, I look around to a bush where John Doe's crouching, looking around fearfully.
I cut my eyes to him and advance slowly, deliberately.
"What?" I growl feeling quite satisfied as he flinches.
"I need you to get something for me."
I wait. If this sleaze bag wants me to do a job for him he'll have to work for it.
"A…a file…I can't access it…with the police guarding me…"
"And what about now?" I cut in, popping a can open and taking a gulp.
"I went into a cinema and slipped out back."
I shook my head and looked down at him pityingly.
"Seeing how they seemed to be trained and the little show you gave them this morning, pal, they aren't going to just let you slip out back." I grab his arm and pull him up next to me.
He lets out a strangled yelp but quickly recovers and looks around like a tracked criminal.
I mean, even I don't do that, there is no more sure way of getting caught.
"Do you have a mic on you?" I ask him, my hands traveling up and down his wrinkled suit.
"No! I never wear a microphone!" And just as he says this, I rip out a small device from inside his collar.
"Of course you don't."
He pales and looks at me, scared shitless.
I pop the little device open, shut it down carefully, intent on examining it later on and take a cigarette out.
"So." I light it and inhale deeply, sighting.
"Oh uh…want to go sit down for a tea or…something?"
I narrow my eyes but follow him anyway, keeping to the shadows and sensing that we aren't alone.
We sit at the back of the little coffee shop, me keeping my back to the wall.
"Ok. The files are rather…difficult to get."
"What kind of files." I cut in, already getting bored.
"Uh…military…files." My eyes stop wondering and land of him, narrowing.
"Military."
"Yes…uh…I'm looking for a guy…he's in a safe house…"
I frown and lean back, easing the pressure off my gun a little and looking at him with my face carefully blank, pounding the goods and bads.
"When?" I ask finally, finishing my cigarette and throwing it.
"I'm leaving for a small burg village soon. The files are there. I'll pay for your ticket." He adds hastily, seeing me getting ready to leave.
"Why so far?" I ask, sitting down again
"Because he disappeared there." He answers, relieved.
"How much are you wiling to pay?"
This is the tricky part. I have to make him think he's paying me cheaper than what the price is when I am really coughing up twice the usual fee.
After a good fifteen minutes of hard bargaining, we settle on two thousand, seeing how its military files then a waitress approaches. It's the girl from the hair parlor, Pinky.
"What can I get you?" She asks nervously.
"Coffee. Want anything?" Doe asks.
I look at Pinky a while and she nods, writing down my usual.
She comes back a few minutes later with a black coffee for my client and a milkshake for me.
Over our drinks, we settle on the assurance kind of thing. If your client can't come the date of the pay, you still have enough money to survive.
Doe leaves a few minutes later, and I sip my drink contentedly, only starting on it now.
I stop immediately though when I see Pinky shake her head hysterically from the kitchen.
Rats! If that sonovabitch drugged my drink I swear I'll kill him.
No…judging by the effects already starting after only one sip, this is a good quality drug.
Think Black Cat, think!
The best drug on the market at the moment is countered by…ah yes!
I dig in my pocket and take out my small mixture of antidote.
It contains the ingredient necessary for this drug along with a few others for minor drugs.
I made it after I passed out in a bar and got kidnapped. I escaped with a few scratches; whip marks and two dead thugs on my hands.
Thankfully the police never found anything on me.
I drink a small gulp and grimace at the horrid taste, replacing the vial in one of my various pockets.
Sighting, I look around for a clue as to who did this. I have a few people in mind but I haven't pissed them off lately. Apart for when I stole that diamond right under their noses…or warned the police they'd rob a bank around 8 in the morning…ah…
I get up, swaying a little but still well balanced and walk out, waving a finger to Pinky to thank her.
"Right. Should be around here somewhere." I mutter, lighting another cigarette and waiting for whoever drugged my drink to come out.
"Hellooooo? I haven't got all niiight." I call out annoyed and a bit tired.
I mean gosh! You want to attack/kidnap/kill somebody you don't leave em hanging!
A black figure detaches itself from the shadows and advances towards me. Ha! Looser.
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End of chapter. (mechanical voice.) Thank you for having suffered through all this and dreadingly, I will post next chapter soon! (Nasty laugh.)