AN: A little November Noir for you… Let's call it Assassin!verse adjacent.
"Who are you to say, that I didn't love you?
'Cause I didn't love the way you wanted
And who am I to blame?
When I didn't trust you enough to let you in the way I wanted
Stop, okay...
If I'm lucky I'll meet ya, flipside of the graveyard
'Cause things didn't work out in this life, but someday
If I'm lucky, I'll meet ya, heaven or high water
'Cause things didn't work out in this life, but maybe...
If I'm lucky (eh)."
If I'm Lucky, Jason Derulo
She stands at the back of the cemetery, kept warm in a Burberry trench, black cashmere with the collar raised for maximum security from the biting wind. The skies do not rain down, in fact, there isn't a cloud in sight. Large designer sunglasses hide her face, but passers by might note the almost perfectly applied red lipstick and the tracks of mascara-lined tears, wiped away by sleek leather gloves. In her line of work, this visit was unprecedented. She never remained after a kill, never attended a funeral. Never did much more than calling her cleaner to fix the situation.
Why today?
She had tracked him for the better part of a month - learning his patterns, understanding his behaviors, trying to find the perfect time and location to finish the contract. Her methods had always been precise. She had learned from the best in the business. Yet even when it had come time to administer the poison (really, guns were far too messy and traceable), she had found herself hesitating. The strangest moment had been when her fingers stretched uncontrollably, searching for some sort of foreign chain to complete the assignment. Never in her past had she strangled someone, so where had the feeling originated?
So many unanswered questions. As assignment that refused to clear her system. It was not guilt she tasted on her lips, but something more like regret. Melancholy. Deja vu.
And why had she not taken the ticket left under one of her aliases? Why had she not returned to headquarters? Why did she ignore the calls and texts she received from her sisters in the network?
She searched the small crowd who had gathered, looking for a woman… Certainly, he had to have a lover from his past, someone who would miss him, someone who would mourn his passing. However, all she could see were three handsome and immaculately dressed men at the graveside. Somber and menacing, it was if they knew she was present. It was a silly thought, she was a mistress of disguise, made invisible in the form of a grieving widow, come to visit her departed husband. And yet she felt their hungry glares, searching for her.
Deliberately forcing herself to walk away, she moved smoothly on stilettos. The resolve she had come searching for was nowhere to be found, and trailed her as she left the hallowed grounds.