Author's Note: This chapter (Chapter 164) of Forsaken picks up a little over a week after Chapter 163. The events in between these two chapters are covered by another one of my stories: The Voyages of The Salty Swallow and you are advised to read that story before starting this chapter.
Friday morning
The City of Chicago
There was nothing out of the ordinary about the client.
The fucking shit deserved to die and I was being paid to help the fucking shit die. Nothing more complicated than that. This was not the first time that I had killed and it would not be the last – I hoped, as that was my chosen profession – I was an assassin, a cleaner.
That night, I moved down the darkened streets, of the south side of Chicago. I was dressed in my usual long, dark blue coat and navy blue hat that I had started to wear when I was about fifteen. The coat came down to below my knees and hid my 'equipment'. In my left hand, I carried a compact carbon-fibre workbag that contained the tools of my trade. To anybody watching, I was just a young woman heading home for the night. Innocuous was how I wanted to look and it had worked for my teacher, so it would work for me.
..._...
I stopped outside the building, where my client stayed. Once certain that I was not observed, I slipped my hand inside the workbag that I carried and pulled out a black plastic box. The box was about eight inches long by about four wide. On the longer side were three antennae. I pressed two buttons on the top of the box before replacing it, back inside my workbag, with its three green LEDs lit. The jammer would block all wireless cell and data transmissions. My target building used wireless CCTV cameras with no wired backup - stupid, but convenient for myself.
I walked in the main door and into the lobby of the building. It was marble and actually reminded me of some photos that Tony had shown me, almost five years ago. Four dead bodies, single shots, in a lobby just like the one where I stood, but that had been in New York at a time of quite a few unexplained and violent, deaths. I had followed the deaths while I was at school – it had seemed cool at the time – culminating in the death of that mob dick, Frank D'Amico – now that was one man who deserved to die!
..._...
One of the things that had kept me going, while at that damned school, was knowing that somebody else was keeping those who deserved to die, on their toes. I was a big fan of that Kick-Ass – he tried, but he wasn't all that good, although his heart seemed to be in the right place. Although, the strange deaths had seemed to dry up, when D'Amico was killed – rumours were he was killed with a bazooka; but I knew that was complete bullshit! Then, only a couple of years ago strange things started to occur in New York – and I mean strange for New York!
The name D'Amico seemed to crop up again, not to mention some weird individuals dressed like, well, weirdoes! In addition, a name – Hit Girl – that name had cropped up, all those years before, but she was very elusive – almost a ghost, or maybe a legend. Kick-Ass was back, too, only with fans! Then again, things seemed to calm down and the vigilantes just vanished for a few months.
I had been planning what to do next and I had even considered moving away from New York; a new start maybe? I had come across some news articles that hinted towards Kick-Ass and Hit Girl being active in Chicago.
That had done it for me – I had found a new destination!
..._...
To my right, was a reception desk, with a concierge; he nodded at me, barely giving me a glance, as expected. I headed directly for the staircase and made my way up – I never used elevators; what I carried, and wore, would take a lot of explaining if the elevator broke down and I had to be rescued!
I excited the staircase on the eighth floor and carefully pulled open the door into the corridor and looked towards each end, looking for trouble.
Once happy that I was clear; I moved out and headed towards my target apartment.
Southside of Chicago
Now that was fucking cool!
The rope ascender had pulled us, individually, from the ground to the roof, in less than a minute. On the roof we found a grinning Hit Girl.
"Okay – you made it! Now, Trojan, Splinter – we have work to do," Hit Girl said as she pulled up the rope and stuffed both it and the ascender in to a black canvas bag that was then hidden in an AC vent for future retrieval.
Hit Girl and taken us both out to give us some experience. Wildcat was still grounded!
..._...
We followed Hit Girl down the fire stairs and stopped at the landing for the nineteenth floor. We listened for any sign of activity in the hallway beyond the door. There was nothing, which was expected for that time of night.
The apartment that we were heading for was number nineteen-ten and was only a few feet from the fire stairs. Hit Girl expertly picked the lock within a minute and we were in. With our pistols out, we searched every room for anybody dangerous, but found nobody home which was also expected. Hit Girl had insisted that this would be an easy night.
We then split up to search the place.
Trojan went to check the main bedroom, while I started checking the kitchen. Splinter was in the main living room. Suddenly, I heard a buzzing noise, coming from the bedroom and I went in, to find Trojan wrestling with a long, cylindrical object.
"I found it in the drawer, beside the bed. It started buzzing and vibrating and I can't turn it off!" Trojan whispered.
"Don't look at me!" I replied. "I've never used one of those damn things!"
"Twist the base," A voice behind us offered. "You two are going to poke somebody's eye out!"
Trojan did as he had been advised and the noise stopped. We both turned and looked at Splinter, incredulously.
"How the fuck, does boy, six months from his twelfth birthday, know how to operate one of these things?" I asked, just as incredulously.
"I just remember strange shit!" Splinter commented, wandering off to search the other bedroom.
I looked at Trojan and Trojan looked back at me.
"That kid is so strange!" We both said, together.
We continued searching and finally found what we were after.
Secured to the back of the fridge we had found several brick-sized packets of a white powder-like substance. These were carefully broken apart and dumped down the toilet. We had also found some 'frozen equity', in the freezer, almost eighty-thousand dollars in cash. This went into the pack that Trojan wore on his back. Just as we were finishing off the disposal of the drugs, we heard a commotion from a short distance away.
There was shouting and then a single gunshot.
..._...
Prudence dictated that we should leave as soon as possible, only I had a nasty habit of ignoring prudence! Dave would be made, but... What the hell!
"Battle Guy, we have trouble on the same floor; I am investigating!"
"What a fucking surprise!" Battle Guy called back dryly.
"Take care, Hit Girl!" Kick-Ass added meaningfully. He was at Safehouse F, in case he was required.
"Hey, it's me!" I replied.
"That's what I am afraid of, gorgeous!"
I laughed and jumped through a window and swung onto the balcony of the next apartment over. Trojan and Splinter waited by the front door of the apartment and monitored the hallway. It was clear for now.
As I proceeded from balcony to balcony, the commotion got louder.
"Trojan, Splinter, the commotion is five apartments down, nineteen-fifteen!" I called.
Apartment nineteen-fifteen
So much for an easy ride!
I had made my stealthy entry into the apartment, after picking the door lock as I usually did. I had expected to find one man, my target, and maybe a couple of others guarding him. Only I was boned and I found eight men in total. I immediately dropped one with a suppressed round to the head from my Walther. As I moved down the lobby, three men chose that moment to come out of a bedroom. At first, my mind enquired as to why three men might be in a bedroom together, but I shrugged it off and shot another man before I, myself, was shot in the chest from only two yards away and the impact shoved me against the wall.
Fuck that had hurt!
The men were Mafia – probably Italian, or maybe Sicilian – whatever; they were bad news!
I was now fighting for my life. I had dropped my Walther when I had fallen back against the wall. My workbag was waiting for me at the front door, as usual, so I had to rely on the lighter weapons that I was carrying. I flicked two throwing knives out of my belt and into the throats of the two nearest men.
That was when the window in the living room disintegrated and something purple and very menacing appeared, dropping two more men with suppressed pistol shots as it rolled onto the living room floor. Almost simultaneously the front door burst open and what seemed like a hoard of men appeared.
It was pandemonium!
The menacing vigilante, clad in an awesome black and purple armoured suit, was wading through the hoard of men.
Some of the Mafiosi were physically large and muscular. At one stage I saw the vigilante, who my mind told me was the famous, or was that infamous, Hit Girl, being physically thrown across the room where she hit the wall, badly damaging the drywall. That did not seem to stop her as she launched forwards, fighting off anybody who approached and then put them down, hard. She drew a vicious looking blade and used that amazingly skilfully in the tight confines of the apartment.
I was doing my utmost to force my way towards the front door of the apartment and at the very least, relative safety. However, before I could get there a Mafiosi appeared behind me and twisted me around to face him.
..._...
Something short and black flipped into the room and drove both feet into the chest of the Mafiosi, driving him against a wall. The 'ninja' caught himself before he landed on the floor and flipped back to his feet. He held out a black clad hand towards me.
"Come with me, if you want to live!" The rather short, black-clad ninja growled, in a somewhat weird electronically augmented voice.
"Seriously!" I responded. "Kyle Reese, you fucking ain't!"
I had no choice, so I just shrugged and ran after the short ninja, aware that my back was covered by another, slightly shorter, vigilante in a blue and green armoured suit. I also saw a brief glint of purple, as Hit Girl continued to fight the Mafiosi in the apartment.
The hallway did not seem much better than the apartment!
I could see two men, dead from obvious stab wounds and I noticed that the blade which the ninja held in his right hand, was covered in blood up to the hilt.
The blue and green vigilante held a Glock 26 pistol fitted with a suppressor, in his hands and shot two Mafiosi that appeared out of the elevator. Seconds later, a pistol appeared around the edge of the elevator and I instantly recognised it as a Glock 18, which then sent a spray of bullets in our direction on full automatic.
Several bullets hit the vigilantes, who obviously wore full body armour and did their best to cover me. Nevertheless, I still felt a stinging sensation from my right thigh and fell down against the wall, leaving a bright red smear down the wall. I must have screamed out as well, but I could not remember doing that at all.
The black ninja seized hold of me and made a go at dragging me towards the fire stairs. I could hear him talking but I could not make out what he was saying.
He must have been using a radio.
I must have passed out, because all I could remember was being dragged to the fire stairs and then nothing.
Although there were strange flashes of memories since then that started to find their way into my mind. I remembered seeing a green and yellow mask gazing down at me as I was picked up and placed into the back of a large truck.
I looked around me.
I was lying on a couch, on my left side. My right thigh was on fire. A purple mask appeared in my field of vision, which then gradually cleared.
"So, what are we going to do with you?" Hit Girl growled.
"I'm not gonna beg, if that's what you're thinking," I replied, grimacing with the pain from my thigh. "Kill me if that is what you desire, Hit Girl."
..._...
Hit Girl took a step back and held up both gauntleted hands with the palms toward me.
"Hey, you've got me all wrong there, girl!" Hit Girl said somewhat defensively. "We need to get that wound looked at, before it gets infected."
Privately, I would admit that I felt a sense of relief at that!
"Who are you? Hit Girl continued.
"I'm Mathilda, but professionally I go by 'The Heir'," I stated without fanfare.
Hit Girl nodded. "I've heard of you, but you worked New York," She commented.
"Things got a bit hot there; so I decided to move."
"Me too; I know what that's like!"
"In fact I was looking for you guys; I have been, ever since I arrived in Chicago."
Hit Girl paused thoughtfully.
"Black, shitty looking SUV?" She asked.
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"Seen it around. I felt like I was being watched and know I know that I was – I thought I was going nuts!"
"Obviously my tracking skills require a little improvement!" I grimaced.
..._...
Just then more people arrived.
"Meet Shadow and Medic," Hit Girl announced.
"Medic, Shadow – meet Mathilda, professionally known as 'The Heir'," Hit Girl continued before getting back to business. "Medic, Mathilda is wounded in her right thigh."
The woman, called Medic, was dressed in an off-white suit, without armour, although I could see where armour panels could be attached to the suit as necessary. Shadow was just that, a shadow in black and navy blue. I had not seen the two other, much shorter, vigilantes since we had left the building to come here – wherever here was.
Medic immediately got to work and started to cut away my trousers from around the wound. She then started taking my vitals and I noticed that my coat, hat and weapons harness had already been removed. Medic pulled open my shirt and started to remove the thin armoured vest that I wore beneath.
"Wow! That's gonna be one hell of a bruise, girl!" Medic quipped and I looked down to see a large red welt where the bullet had caught me.
Hit Girl passed across the squished bullet that she had recovered from my vest.
"Souvenir!" She said.
"This is going to hurt; the bullet is still in there, but don't worry I have done this many, many times," Medic said with a sly glance at Hit Girl.
"Where are we?" I asked, then screamed as Medic jabbed me with a needle, close to the wound.
"Some local anaesthetic," Medic said conversationally, ignoring my question.
A new vigilante appeared, this one with ears that stuck up from his mask.
"Hey, eyes off my tits!" I growled at the new vigilante who was obviously checking out my bra, which was showing, and what was in them after Medic had taken my vitals and removed the vest.
"Sorry, we're not all that big on dignity, here," Hit Girl growled. "Jackal, eyes elsewhere!"
"Can't help a vigilante for peeking at something nice!" Jackal announced in his electronically enhanced voice.
My thigh was going numb, but I could still feel Medic's fingers in the wound, which felt really weird! In all my time doing this shit, I had never had a bullet wound; lots of cuts and bruises, but never a bullet wound!
These guys were actually being nice to me, rather than just killing me, but then I had not seen their faces and I had a distinct feeling that Hit Girl knew much more about me than she was letting on. I had learnt that Hit Girl and Kick-Ass, with their team, Fusion, had morals despite what some may have thought about them. They never hurt innocents and only used force where force was necessary and then only proportionate force.
I started to feel queasy with all the poking around, then my vision started to blur and I blacked out.
I came around again and I could hear voices.
"So what do we do with her?"
"Can we keep her?"
"She's not a damn dog!"
"You kept Shadow!"
I heard something being hit, followed by an exclamation.
"She needs time for her wound to heal."
"She can't stay here."
"I'm sure Jackal would love her to stay!"
The final voice, a young female's, was dripping sarcasm. I tried to raise my head up, but felt weak and my thigh was very sore and throbbing with the pain now that the local anaesthetic had worn off.
"The bad-ass assassin is awake!" A new, electronically distorted voice, said.
A face appeared, or rather a masked face; it was green – Kick-Ass. I recognised him as the person that had lifted me up and placed me into the truck.
"Hello, err, Kick-Ass..."
"You'll be dry, here have a drink," He said, passing me an open can of Pepsi. I drank some down. "How long was I out?"
"About two and a half hours," Hit Girl said, standing beside Kick-Ass. The diminutive Hit Girl made Kick-Ass seem huge in comparison. Which was probably the point!
"Oh, shit; I need to get home," I said and tried to sit up, felt a little dizzy and slumped back down again.
"When was the last time that you slept properly?" It was Medic's voice.
"I think I was thirteen and I had just started all this shit!" I replied, trying to smile.
"You tend to sleep with one eye open in this job!" Hit Girl confirmed.