Author's Note

BET YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS ONE. I HAVEN'T.

HAPPY JASHI WEEK! HAPPY TIMELESS TUESDAY! For today, I thought I would just dump a whole mess of new chapters, since it's all about exploring new timelines or alternate endings. What better way to kick things of with the WORST AU IN HISTORY.

Seriously. I love/hate this story. It's so difficult to base plot on a weak movie like Mr. and Mrs. Smith. It's a fun premise! Don't get me wrong. But the actual plot of the movie is so thin, it's hard to adapt.

THAT BEING SAID this chapter legit took me a month to write. I wrote it, threw it away, wrote a new one, threw that away, etc., etc. and now I'm left with this.

This chapter is full of plot. The next will have smut! Because, really, that's the only reason this story exists. FOR SMUT.

Enjoy!

Kiss, Marry, Kill

Chapter Two:

Marry

"Hold on. You what?"

"I'm in love."

"You've barely known the girl a month!"

Jack sighed dreamily. What a month it had been.

When he'd left Okinawa after three dizzying days of kissing, dining, and laughing, he feared he would never see her again. But what a joyful surprise it had been, when on the second day of his returning home, that he should visit his parent's restaurant for dinner and see her there.

"My name is Ashi and I think I'm in love with your son."

Jack's mother's eyes widened at the declaration. She seated her at a special table in a private room near the kitchen, reserved for only her best guests. Her smile grew as the young woman told her story of how she'd met her son and how close they had become over a few short days.

She greeted her son excitedly upon seeing him enter the restaurant later that evening.

"My son, we have a very special guest." She escorted him into the private area. Jack gasped at the sight of her. "She has told me touching stories of the brief time you have spent together."

Jack flushed, hoping she had spared the 'touching' details. She winked at him.

She stood from the table and approached him. He held out his arms and she wrapped hers around his waist in a tight embrace. He kissed her hair.

"I am so glad you're here."

Since their reunion, the two had become inseparable. She had requested a few weeks off from her job to spend time with him. Jack had never experienced such overwhelming happiness.

"How do you know she's not some sort of... femme fatale? Trying to seduce you or something?" Jack and his closest friend and colleague, codenamed 'The Scotsman', were taking a brief break from their sparring session.

"For what purpose?"

"Who knows? It's happened before. To you. It could happen again."

Jack shook his head, dismissing his friend's worry. "She is unlike anyone I have ever met."

"Doesn't mean she isn't scheming. They all do. Just a whole gender of schemers, I tell ya. She'll wear you down, slowly, cripplingly. Then she'll leave you penniless and broken."

Jack deadpanned. "You live with your mother."

"I choose to," the Scotsman scoffed. "Because she's the only woman I've ever trusted."

Jack offered his friend a ridiculously stupid grin. "I asked her to marry me."

The Scotsman threw a gloved punch at his friend's head. Jack didn't even dodge.

"So you're really going through with this?"

"Yep."

"And... you don't think this is all happening too fast?"

"Nope."

The woman, clad in all black regarded her friend in bewilderment. "I'm confused," she said. "I've never seen you in any sort of steady relationship and now, all of a sudden, you're getting married?"

Ashi grinned. "Yeah. He's a dream. He's funny and kind and I just fell for him so easily. And he travels a lot and is often held up in the libraries on campus late at night so he's gone just as much as I am. It's perfect."

Her friend kept opening and closing her mouth, not knowing what to say. She watched as Ashi raised her knife, aimed and released, the blade hitting the target's dead center. Like always.

"Plus," she said, making a 'V' shape with her fingers and holding them up to her mouth. "He eats like a god."

"Come on," her friend sneered. "I mean, good for you but you don't need to tell me that."

The two women snickered.

That was five years ago.

Or was it six?

No, five, definitely five. Six?

Ashi wasn't sure. And she never had the heart to ask him, knowing it would hurt his feelings. She made a mental note to check her calendar. She was standing in their bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She sighed, not looking forward to another mundane day.

Jack entered the bathroom and removed his robe. He must have just been outside to get the newspaper. Ashi took up her toothbrush and began brushing vigorously.

"Be sure to bring an umbrella with you today," he said. "I believe it will rain."

"Mm," she replied before spitting into the sink. She turned and walked to their shared closet to get dressed. He followed. She pulled on a simple white blouse and tucked it into a high-waisted black pencil skirt. Jack buttoned up a light lavender-colored shirt. She smiled slightly. She had purchased that shirt for him as a gift. She always liked how he looked in that color.

He opened a cabinet to retrieve a tie, accidentally bumping her arm with his elbow. "Sorry." She didn't respond, bending over to retrieve her favorite, every day black heels.

"Would you like breakfast this morning?" he asked.

"No, I'm kind of running late as it is. I'll grab a piece of fruit on my way out." She kissed his cheek lightly. "Have a good day today."

He smiled. "You, too."

She sighed heavily as she got into her car. She caught a reflection of herself in her rear-view mirror and grimaced. When had her life become this... droll?

Their house was boring. Their neighborhood was boring. They had boring friends. Rich, snobbish idiots that only talked about their children and income taxes and golf. She fucking hated golf.

And her relationship, as much as she hated to admit it, had grown stale. Don't get her wrong, she still loved Jack deeply, but she couldn't help but feel that there was... space. Between them. And it was growing. All of the secrets, years of them, had not been particularly kind to their relationship.

It didn't surprise her. Her job had become especially suffocating in the past few years. When she'd first met Jack her assignments were simpler. Granted, she had never been in what she would describe as an ideal situation, but things since then have certainly escalated. But she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't tell him anything. And it was making everything worse.

Adding on to that shit storm, she could tell he had secrets, too. But that was okay, right? Every couple has secrets.

Ashi groaned through clenched teeth at her own attempt to justify her thoughts. Her secrets were... a bit more extreme.

"So who's the target?"

A woman, a young one, one of the interns, she assumed (she was far too fresh-faced to have been a hardened veteran), handed her a dossier for her next mission.

"You know him. Samuel Davis. Codename 'Scaramouche.'"

Ashi's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "One of our own, huh? Why has his assassination been ordered?"

The other woman shrugged. "A few weeks ago he broke up with his boyfriend, another one of our own. You know him as codename 'Demongo.'"

Ashi sucked her teeth. "That's why you date outside of the business. But," she said curiously, "that doesn't explain why his head's on the chopping block. This isn't exactly the show 'Cheaters'."

"Well, after their break up, Scaramouche started going crazy. Saying that he was finished with this 'life of crime'. He's threatened to rat out our group to rival gangs as payback for all the 'years of mistreatment'," the woman snorted. "There's even rumors saying that he'll go to the Samurai."

Ashi's lips formed into an 'O' shape. So it was rather serious. To say that the Samurai had been a thorn in her institution's side for the past several years was a wild understatement. In fact, Aku, the big boss himself, had issued a special warrant: anyone who could deliver the Samurai's head would be rewarded with one wish. Anything they desired. Most just wanted money. But Ashi had something different in mind.

Freedom.

She had been saving away money since she was a teenager two decades ago. And since she was often tasked with some of the most difficult assignments, she had always been paid handsomely. But her entire life had been spent under Aku's thumb and she wanted out. Others had tried. And they were punished. Severely. But maybe this. If she could just put down her boss' most hated enemy, she could be granted that wish.

"But... none of this makes any sense," she said finally. "Scaramouche has been one of Aku's most loyal servants since I was a kid. Why is he doing this now?"

"Beats me. I just hand out the paperwork."

Ashi chewed her lip thoughtfully. "Right."

I'll go it alone, that's how it must be

I can't be right for somebody else

If I'm not right for me

I gotta be free, I just gotta be free

Daring to try, to do it or die

I gotta be me

Ashi bit the inside of her cheek. She was hiding in the rafters of the nightclub, watching as the small crowd thinned out to nothing. It was a shame, really. Scaramouche was a really good singer. It's too bad no one will ever be able to enjoy his voice again. She hadn't been particularly close to her boss' former right-hand man but she had known him for quite some time. A nice man, well, as nice as anyone could be in their 'industry'. A little eccentric. She exhaled a slow breath from her nostrils as she leveled the aim of her gun.

Years ago, when she had been roped into this mess against her will, her job would consist of deliveries. No one would ever suspect a seven-year-old girl of peddling drugs. As she grew older, her skills of stealth became fine tuned, and she would be deployed on increasingly dangerous jobs. Robberies, and the like.

She was only seventeen when she made her first kill.

It was an accident, a robbery gone wrong. But after she'd returned from her mission, Aku put a hand on her shoulder and congratulated her. Since then her training became more intense. It was not long afterwards that she became who she was today. An assassin.

She didn't exactly enjoy killing, but, she justified, that despite these deeds being carried out for the selfish sake of their own group, that those she did take out helped, in a small way, to better the environment she lived in. They were awful people and the world was better without them. It was a weak sentiment. She knew it. But she had no choice.

Actually, she had one choice. It happened the day she was assigned to kill a woman for not keeping current on her debts. She visited her home and discovered that the woman was very young, single, trying to raise a child by herself. She feigned coming to the wrong address and walked away, letting the woman live. She went to Aku herself and loudly proclaimed that she would not be the deliverer of death to innocent lives.

She had been punished severely.

Not by Aku himself, of course. The bastard rarely liked getting his hands dirty.

She had woken up in a hospital the next morning, her eyes swollen shut, bruises smeared unnatural color over her body. She could hear Aku's voice beside her.

"I am sorry that it had to be this way," he spoke slowly. "But your disobedience could not go unpunished."

"Fuck you," she had said. "You can beat me all you want. You can kill me right now. I will not take the life of an innocent."

He sighed. She couldn't see it, but she felt his hand brush the hair on her head. She flinched but did not waver. She heard him whisper.

"Very well."

That moment, everything seemed to change. Her targets were exclusively 'scum of the earth' types. Rival assassins. Gang members. Dealers who sold their products to children. She became... freer. Aku's goons couldn't touch her anymore. In fact, they seemed to respect her. Almost fear her.

She had spat in the face of the big boss himself and lived. No one else had ever been granted such immunity.

If she were anyone else, she would be proud. But her defiance was only the first drop in the ever brimming hatred of Aku that brewed in her stomach.

She inhaled deeply and released, ready to get this over with. The only people left in the room now were Scaramouche and a janitor who was sweeping the floors across the room. At least he was incredibly out of the way. But then a figure at the door caught her eye. A tall man, dressed in all black, face shielded by darkness, bearing a 'zintaris' symbol on his back.

The Samurai. Oh, good lord, this was a lucky day. Kill Scaramouche. Kill the Samurai. And all of her troubles would finally be over.

She watched the two chat and pressed a button on the side of her mask to begin recording their conversation. She had it planted there months ago, often finding it useful to listen to recordings of her encounters, lest they be useful for future missions.

The rain hitting the room of the nightclub made it difficult to determine what they were talking about. She hoped the rain would drown out any sounds she made. The gun was loaded. Cocked. Aimed. For the Samurai's head.

She was taken by surprise when his head suddenly jerked up toward her. He shouted. "Run!" She fired.

The Samurai had managed to dodge and grabbed Scaramouche by the wrist, dragging him to the exit. She kept firing but to no avail. Both of her targets managed to make their way to the door and run away.

"Goddamnit!" She dropped from the rafting to a table that broke under the impact. She hopped up, landing on her feet, and ran towards the door.

She kicked it open and saw the two running down the alley behind the club. She lifted a pistol from her waist and fired six times, emptying the barrel. Her targets were still running. She was furious. The mistiness of the rain had made it difficult for her to aim beneath her mask. She started running. She caught up to them quickly, the Samurai no doubt slowed down by the weight of dragging Scaramouche.

She was taken by surprise for a second time that night when suddenly the Samurai spun Scaramouche away from himself and turned to face her.

"You need to run!" she heard him say. "I will hold them off as long as I can!"

She smirked. We'll see about that.

She charged at him, leg forward, aiming a kick to his chest. He blocked and pushed back, countering with a fist to her stomach. She blocked, growing angrier and angrier as each of her blows were blocked and countered.

She removed a blade from her waist and grabbed his wrist that was once again aiming for her stomach. She pulled him forward, knocking him off balance and slashed at his shoulder. She felt giddy as he shouted out in pain. This was it. Sink the blade into his neck. Freedom had never been so close.

She didn't get the chance.

She saw stars as he forced himself up, grabbing the top of her head, and butted her forehead, sending her backwards until she hit a solid concrete wall. She heard a resounding crack, clear to her even in the pouring rain.

Her mask was breaking. Shit.

She needed to get out of here now.

She watched the Samurai turn and run away, clutching at his shoulder. She felt relieved. But also incredibly angry. She wanted to keep pursuing him. He was injured and she could still fight. But with her mask about to break, she couldn't risk it. She couldn't be discovered.

She snuck her way back into the club, even more relieved that no one else occupied it. It seemed the lone janitor had fled in the previous commotion. She worked her way back up the rafters to gather her gear. It wouldn't be long before the police showed up. Not that it mattered. She was a master of disappearing.

Ashi chewed her nail anxiously as she gathered her data. She had a blood sample, barely a drop, most of it having washed away in the rain. But that analysis would take all night. But she also had the corrupted data from the recording device in her mask.

She was too far away from Scaramouche or the Samurai to clearly pick up on their exchanges. And because the recorder had been damaged in her fight, she was beginning to lose hope that she would find anything useful.

However, it was the first time she had heard the Samurai's voice in person. She had her computer analyze the recording to see if there were any potential match ups in her database that she'd been collecting. She knew she was grasping at straws, for the recordings she collected consisted mostly of other thugs and criminals. A 'hero' like the Samurai would probably not match any of those.

But she was desperate. If she could find the Samurai and kill him, all of this would be over.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise when her program was complete.

One possible match found.

She listened to the recording from her mask. It was muffled but she could make out a few words.

"I... expecting... to meet... soon... annivers—Aku... please..."

She typed in a command. The computer responded with a visualization of the broken word 'annivers'. It mapped, or at least that was the intent, the cadence of the voice. She replayed it again but it still did not make sense.

She typed another command. To play the possible match.

It was from her voicemail. From her... personal phone? Her eyebrows furrowed. What was going on? The computer read aloud the date and time of the message.

Tuesday, May eighth at ten-twenty-seven a.m.

Hello, Ashi. I wanted to call and wish you a happy anniversary. I wish I could be there with you. I love you.

"What?" she whispered. This was crazy. Her program obviously needed some fine tuning. This was just a coincidence. Why would the hell would the program believe the voice of the Samurai and the voice of her husband were a match?

She typed in the same command to bring up the visualization of Jack's voice saying 'anniversary'. The cadence matched.

But this was just a coincidence!

She brought up a window so she could do her own recording. "Anniversary." The visualization came up once more, showing a completely different cadence. She recorded again, slowing down her voice, trying to match Jack's. Again, the program showed her the ways in which their voices were different. But Jack's and the Samurai's were so... similar.

"No," she said again. "No, no, no!" This was impossible. Jack was a gentle soul, shy and reserved. There's no way that it was him running around in the darkest corners of the city beating up drug dealers.

Sure, he had a collection of katanas. But that didn't mean anything! Lots of people collected things!

And, alright, he had a weekly 'date' with friends where they would spar together. But that didn't mean anything either! What was wrong with a man staying in shape?

And... he spent a lot of time traveling. Away from her. Staying at work late. Or coming home with bruises that he claimed were from a sparring session.

Her mind slowed to a crawl. Was this... really possible?

She heard her phone ding. It was a text message. From Jack.

I am sorry but I will be spending tonight on campus. I still have much research to do.

At the same time, an alert popped up on her other device.

Imperial Palace Hotel. 7 pm. Review dossier for list of targets.

She scrolled through them. Eight men in total. Including a politician and a police officer. The last two on the list?

Scaramouche.

And The Samurai.

Jack?

Her hand fisted was only one way to find out.

Author's Note

Riddled with cliches and ridiculousness. But at least I finally got it done! I literally could not look at this chapter for another second.

I hope you enjoyed! The next chapter is in the works, but, like this one, is probably gonna be trashed and rewritten a dozen times until I grow tired of it and just post it lol.

Love you all!