The dim light of the alley stretched long and thin, swallowed by the looming shadows of the buildings that pressed in from either side. Louise's heels clicked softly against the damp pavement, each step measured and deliberate. Her breath fogged in the cool night air as she walked with a quiet purpose, her gaze fixed ahead though her mind wandered elsewhere.
The narrow passage was suffocating, the stench of refuse and decay clinging to every surface. She barely noticed anymore. The suit she wore was crisp, its black fabric absorbing the night. It was tailored, sharp, but simple—practical. Underneath her jacket, a holstered pistol rested against her ribs, its weight a familiar, almost comforting presence. Beside it, a suppressor, cold and unfeeling, yet vital to the task at hand.
A soft crackle interrupted her thoughts, and the voice came through her earpiece, low and steady.
"Keep moving. You're almost there."
She blinked, grounding herself in the present again, nodding slightly as if the voice could see her. It had been like this for years now—his voice, her actions. Each instruction followed without hesitation, each order embedded deep into her routine. Eleven years. A lifetime ago, she had been a student. The details of that time were blurry now, hazy images of a life that felt like it belonged to someone else. She could hardly remember what she used to study or even why. The faces of her old friends, the courtyard where she used to walk, the long hours with her nose buried in books—they all felt like ghosts of a forgotten past, slipping further from her grasp with every step she took in this new life.
She once thought she could hold onto that part of herself. She once believed she could be more than what she had become. But killing had a way of eroding things. The more she took life, the more pieces of her own seemed to fade. She wasn't sure when it happened—when she had stopped longing for her old self. Perhaps it was when her hands first stopped shaking after a kill or when the scent of gunpowder became as familiar as the air she breathed.
Her hand unconsciously brushed the holster under her jacket, fingers grazing the cold metal. She hadn't missed a target in years. The motions were mechanical now—draw, aim, fire. Efficient. Clean. Just like the suit she wore.
A shadow passed overhead, a plane crossing the moon, momentarily darkening the alley even more. Louise's steps didn't falter.
"Back entrance. North side of the building. Forty meters ahead."
The voice was calm, steady, and devoid of any hesitation. It always was. He had taught her well—how to move, fight, and think three steps ahead. She had been an apprentice once, under him, learning the trade that now defined her. It had started slow, with small tasks, observation, and training. Eleven years later, and she was no longer the student she had been—she was something else entirely. Something sharper, more dangerous.
And yet, whenever she heard his voice, she felt a strange mix of comfort and sorrow. His voice was one of the few things tethering her to reality, reminding her why she was still here. He was her guide, mentor, and constant in a world that had taken so much from her.
But it was also a reminder of the path she had chosen. Or maybe the path that had been chosen for her. She wasn't sure anymore.
Her hand hovered over her jacket, ready to grip the pistol if necessary, as she neared the tall, luxurious building. Its polished windows gleamed faintly, reflecting the moonlight, while the alley remained shrouded in darkness. The contrast between the wealth inside and the grime out here was stark, but she paid it no mind. She had crossed between these two worlds so many times that the lines blurred together.
"Twenty meters. Keep your pace steady."
The alley seemed to stretch forever, each step drawing her closer to the task ahead, each breath measured and calm. The echo of her footsteps was all she could hear besides the soft, constant murmur in her ear. It grounded her and kept her focused, even when the memories from her past tried to claw their way to the surface.
She used to hate the idea of taking life. She remembered that much. There was a time when the thought had made her stomach turn, and her fingers tremble. She had cried the first time. She hadn't even needed to look into a mirror to know what had changed in her eyes.
"Focus, Louise. Don't let your mind wander."
The voice, firm but not harsh, pulled her back once again. She straightened her posture, pushing the memories aside. She didn't have time for reflection, not now. Not when she was this close.
The building loomed before her, the alley opening to a small, secluded loading dock. A steel door marked the back entrance, barely visible behind a stack of crates. Louise adjusted her jacket, making sure the pistol was secure but easy to draw if needed. Her fingers brushed the suppressor one last time, a fleeting reminder of what she had come here to do.
The voice in her ear was calm and measured: "Enter through the door. Security is light. No one expects you."
She had long since stopped asking questions. The why or how of it all no longer mattered. She trusted him, the voice. She had to. In this line of work, trust was currency, and he had never failed her.
Her hand reached for the door handle, pausing momentarily as the cold metal pressed against her palm. She let out a slow breath. The air was thick, carrying the faint scent of rain yet to fall. The door creaked softly as she pulled it open, the inside of the building starkly contrasting with the grimy alley. Pristine, luxurious, silent.
She stepped inside, the warmth of the building enveloping her like a second skin. The lobby was empty, the marble floor gleaming under soft lights. Expensive. This place was worth more than some people made in a lifetime. It didn't matter. In a few moments, none of it would.
"Up the stairs. Third floor. Take the corridor to the left. You're looking for room 312."
The voice guided her, calm and constant as always. Louise walked forward, her steps barely making a sound on the polished floor. She moved like a shadow, unseen and unnoticed.
As she approached the stairs, her mind drifted, just for a moment, to the girl she had once been—bright-eyed, eager to learn, a student of magic. There had been hope in her then, a belief that the world held endless possibilities. That girl was gone now. She had been replaced by someone else. Someone colder. Sharper.
Louise adjusted her tie as she reached the third floor, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty hallway. She didn't let herself think about what came next. It was easier that way.
"Room 312. It's time."
Her hand moved to the pistol, fingers curling around the grip. The metal was cool against her skin, steadying her, grounding her in the present. She was no longer a student, no longer the girl she had once been. She was something else now.
The voice in her ear was the only thing she had left.
Louise pressed her back against the cold wall just outside the suite's door, the quiet hum of the luxury apartment building barely audible over the blood pounding in her ears. She let out a slow breath, feeling the familiar grip of the pistol in her hand, the cool metal steady in her palm. Room 312. The door in front of her was unremarkable, but she knew what was behind it—her target, someone who had crossed the wrong people, someone who had to disappear tonight.
Her pulse was steady and calm. She wasn't the girl who had trembled the first time she had taken a life. She was something much colder now. Louise shifted slightly, allowing herself to blend into the shadows of the dimly lit hallway.
The voice crackled softly in her ear. "Two guards inside. One at the door, another by the window. Silent and quick."
Louise nodded, though the gesture was subtle, more reflexive than deliberate. She had learned not to hesitate, question, or act. Eleven years of training had drilled that into her—into her muscles, her bones, and her mind. She had moved like a ghost through this building, unnoticed, leaving no trace except for the few unfortunate guards who had crossed her path.
She crouched slightly, pressing her fingers into the floor as she pushed the door open just enough to slip inside. The suite was luxurious, a stark contrast to the grim alley she had entered from moments earlier. Polished wood floors, sleek furniture, and the soft glow of recessed lighting. A world of wealth and comfort that she had never known and never would. It was not her place.
It was his.
The first guard stood at the door, his back to her, focused on something far off in the distance, completely unaware of her presence. Like so many others she had encountered, his stance was lazy and too confident. She was a shadow behind him, silent and invisible.
"Remember what I taught you. High, then low," the voice whispered through her earpiece, a ghost of instruction from her mentor, the man who had molded her into what she was now.
Her body moved before her mind could fully process the command, muscle memory taking over. She slid her pistol from its holster in a single smooth motion, the suppressor glinting faintly in the low light. Before the guard even had time to shift his weight, Louise's free hand came down on his shoulder, pinning him in place as the barrel of her pistol pressed into the base of his skull. A soft, muted pop followed.
The guard crumpled to the floor, his body lifeless before he could make a sound. Louise dragged him out of sight in one fluid motion, slipping him behind a large decorative plant in the corner. She crouched, scanning the room with sharp eyes. The second guard was at the far end of the suite, his back to her as he gazed out the window, likely admiring the city lights below.
"Low this time," she reminded herself, echoing the lessons her mentor had drilled into her.
She moved swiftly, silently, closing the distance between them with the grace of a predator. She stayed low, her body moving close to the ground as she ducked behind a long, modern couch. Her heart remained steady, her breathing controlled. This was no different than her training sessions, no different than the countless other times she had done this.
"Approach from the side. Disable him before he can turn."
The voice in her ear was steady, guiding her, though by now, it was more for reassurance than necessity. She knew what to do.
In one swift motion, she sprang from her hiding spot, her body fluid and precise. Her foot caught the guard's knee from the side, buckling it with a sharp crack. He stumbled, a gasp of surprise escaping his lips, but before he could recover, Louise's hands were on him. Her forearm pressed into his throat, cutting off his air supply, while her free hand drove the butt of her pistol into his temple with brutal force. His body went slack.
It had taken mere seconds.
She dragged the body out of sight, her breath barely quickened from the exertion. The voice came through her earpiece again. "Good. Now, the target."
Louise stood, adjusting her suit jacket and ensuring the pistol was still secure in its holster. Her movements were calm and methodical, though her mind raced with a familiar, distant tension. She had been doing this for so long, killing with such efficiency, that sometimes she wondered if this was all left of her. The girl she used to be felt like a distant memory—someone fragile, soft, and full of hope. She barely recognized that person anymore.
She moved through the suite with quiet confidence, her eyes scanning the space as she recalled the layout. She knew where the target would be. The luxury, the wealth—it all meant nothing to her now, just background noise. All that mattered was the objective.
"Approaching the bedroom. Keep it clean. No mistakes," the voice murmured in her ear, though Louise didn't need the reminder. She had been trained for this, over and over again. Failure wasn't an option.
Her mentor had taught her to move like water, to flow from one motion to the next without hesitation. Acrobatic maneuvers, high and low strikes—it all blended together into a deadly dance. She had learned to disable her targets before they realized she was there. The way her body moved was instinctual now, as natural as breathing.
Louise paused at the bedroom door, her ear pressed lightly against the wood. She could hear the faintest movement from inside, the soft rustling of fabric, the sound of a man shifting in his bed, unaware of the danger lurking just outside his door. Her target.
Her grip on the pistol tightened.
"Go high, then attack low," she whispered to herself, a mantra, a reminder of the countless drills her mentor had taught her. It was all so ingrained in her now that she hardly needed to think about it.
She pushed the door open slowly, just enough to slide through, her movements silent. The room was bathed in the soft glow of ambient lighting, designed for comfort. The man in the bed stirred slightly but didn't wake. Louise moved to the side of the room, staying close to the wall, her pistol drawn, her eyes locked on the target.
He was older than she had expected, his hair gray at the temples, his face weathered from years of whatever life he had led to land him on a list like this. But it didn't matter. She wasn't here to question why. She was here to do a job.
"Finish it," the voice commanded, firm but calm.
Louise's body moved on autopilot. She stepped forward, her movements fluid and silent, her pistol raised. The man in the bed stirred again, his eyes fluttering open just as the cold barrel pressed against his forehead. For a split second, their eyes met—his filled with confusion, hers with nothing but cold, calculated intent.
The suppressor muffled the shot.
The man slumped back against the pillows, his life extinguished in an instant. Louise stepped back, her face impassive as she holstered the pistol once again.
"Good work," the voice said, soft and steady, the same as always.
Louise didn't respond. She stood there for a moment, staring down at the man she had just killed. Once, years ago, this would have shaken her. She would have hesitated, questioned herself, and felt something. Now, it was just another job. Another task was completed. Another life was taken.
She adjusted her suit jacket, her fingers brushing against the holster one last time before she turned and walked toward the door. The apartment was as silent as she had left it, the guards' bodies hidden from sight, the faint scent of gunpowder lingering in the air.
As she stepped back into the hallway, the voice came through her earpiece again. "Exit the way you came. No one saw you."
Louise nodded to herself, her hand resting briefly on the cool metal of the earpiece. She had done it again. Another mission, another clean kill. But as she moved back through the darkened hallway, her thoughts drifted once more to the person she had been all those years ago—the girl who had once dreamed of something so different.
That girl was gone now, lost to the shadows. All that was left was this—a quiet, efficient killer, trained to move without hesitation, to strike without mercy.
The cool night air rushed in as Louise slipped out of the building's back entrance, the door closing with a soft click behind her. She moved with precision, her steps light on the pavement as she made her way down the alley, her body blending seamlessly into the shadows. Her suit, now slightly damp from the night's humidity, still clung tightly to her, her movements fluid and controlled. The pistol's weight in her holster felt almost negligible after the task she had just completed.
Her breath was steady, her mind clear, though there was a subtle tension in her muscles that refused to release. The adrenaline of the kill still buzzed faintly in her veins, but it wasn't overwhelming. It never was anymore.
The alley opened up to a side street, where a sleek, black 1969 Ford Boss 429 Mustang sat idling quietly under the muted glow of a street lamp. The car was a beast, a low growl emanating from its engine, but it was as much a shadow in the night as she was. The driver's side window was slightly rolled down, a faint glow from within casting light onto the pavement.
Louise moved toward it with purpose, her eyes flicking to either side of the street, ensuring it was as empty as it seemed. Her footsteps were nearly silent as she approached the passenger side, her fingers brushing the cold handle before she opened the door and slipped into the seat. The leather creaked softly beneath her as she settled in, closing the door with a quiet thud.
The man in the driver's seat turned slightly to look at her, his face half-hidden by the darkness of the car's interior. His expression, as always, was calm, unreadable. He said nothing at first, simply allowing the silence between them for a moment. Louise's hand instinctively adjusted the lapel of her suit jacket, ensuring everything was in place, even though she knew it was.
"How did it go?" His voice was low and calm, the same voice that had guided her through the earpiece just moments before.
Louise exhaled softly, her gaze fixed ahead on the dimly lit street. "Clean," she said, her tone quiet but firm. "No witnesses. Guards neutralized. Target eliminated."
There was a pause. He nodded once, slowly, the faintest flicker of approval crossing his features. But she knew him well enough by now to know that wasn't the end of it.
"You took out the first guard well," he said, his voice steady, but there was a slight edge to it, a teacher's tone. "But you hesitated for a moment before moving on the second."
Louise shifted slightly in her seat, keeping her expression neutral. "I didn't want to risk alerting him," she replied, though she knew what was coming.
"You didn't need to," he said. "You had the advantage. He was distracted, completely unaware. A faster approach would have kept the element of surprise intact longer. Next time, don't give them time to react, even if they don't see you coming."
She nodded, taking in the critique. It was never personal; it was just part of the job, part of getting better.
"Understood," she said quietly.
He turned his gaze forward again, the Mustang's engine rumbling softly beneath them. For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The city outside seemed far away, distant, as if it barely existed at all. The low hum of the car was the only sound, and Louise let herself relax slightly into the seat, though the tension never fully left her. It never did.
"Your form on the takedown was good," he said after a pause, his voice softer now, less critical. "But your timing on the strike was a bit early."
Louise exhaled through her nose, acknowledging the point. She had felt it, too—the moment she struck the second guard, her instinct had taken over, pushing her to act just a fraction too soon.
"I'll fix it next time," she said, her tone even.
He glanced at her, his expression still unreadable but slightly softer. "You're doing well," he said, his voice calm. "You're getting better every time."
The praise was rare, and Louise didn't let it go unnoticed. She nodded slightly, her hands resting in her lap as the tension in her shoulders eased just a little. But still, the weight of the night clung to her—another life taken, another mission completed. The efficiency of it was satisfying in a way, but the feeling was hollow, like the echo of something she used to feel long ago.
As the silence settled back into the car, John turned the wheel, guiding the Mustang out of the side street and onto a main road. The city lights blurred past, muted by the darkened windows of the car. Louise stared out, her eyes following the passing lights, though her thoughts were elsewhere.
Eleven years. Eleven long years since she had left behind the world she once knew, the life she had thought was hers. She barely recognized that person now—the girl who had once worried about grades and lessons, who had once walked through school courtyards without a care in the world. That person was gone, replaced by something sharper, something colder. The missions, the training, the endless stream of targets—they had honed her into someone different, someone who operated in shadows, who killed with precision and without hesitation.
"Remember your training," his soft but commanding voice broke through her thoughts. You don't need to be faster than your target—just more precise. Efficiency is everything."
Louise nodded, her gaze still fixed on the window. "I know," she murmured, almost to herself. It was something he had drilled into her repeatedly, in every training session, every mission. She had learned it well, but sometimes, like tonight, her mind drifted back to the person she had once been, the life she had once led.
"You did well tonight," he said again, his voice gentler now. "But there's always room to improve."
She glanced at him briefly, taking in the faint outline of his profile in the dim light of the dashboard. His words carried weight, but they weren't harsh. They were measured, just like everything he did. He had been her mentor for years now, guiding her through the world she had been thrust into, teaching her how to survive, how to thrive. And yet, despite everything she had learned, despite the countless kills and successful missions, there was always something more to learn, something more to refine.
The road stretched ahead of them, dark and winding, the city lights fading into the distance as they drove. Louise let the silence hang between them, comfortable now, the critique still settling in her mind as they moved further from the site of the kill. She was used to it—the aftermath of a mission, the quiet reflection, the feedback. But even now, after all this time, there was still a part of her that felt… something. She wasn't sure what it was anymore. Regret? Doubt? She had buried those feelings long ago, but every now and then, they threatened to resurface like echoes of a life she had almost forgotten.
John seemed to sense it, as he often did, though he never pushed. He spoke few words, and his guidance came mostly from action or instruction. But sometimes, in moments like these, he would offer something more, something that felt almost like comfort.
"You're stronger than you think," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road. "You've come a long way."
Louise didn't respond immediately, her fingers brushing the edge of her suit jacket as she processed his words. She had come a long way, hadn't she? From the frightened girl who had struggled with her first kill to the woman who now moved with deadly precision, who executed missions with a calm efficiency that rivaled even his.
But at what cost? She wasn't sure anymore.
"I know," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
The low rumble of the Mustang's engine carried them through the dark, empty streets, away from the city lights and toward a more secluded part of town. Louise stared out of the window, her thoughts quiet but buzzing with the weight of the evening. The cool leather of the seat pressed against her back, a contrast to the warm adrenaline still thrumming in her veins. John's hands rested lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze focused on the road, but his thoughts seemed miles away.
Neither of them spoke as they drove, the silence in the car as comfortable as it was tense. There was something final in the air, something unsaid but felt between them. The mission had gone well—clean, efficient, without complication. Yet, Louise could feel the shift. This wasn't just another night, another target, another kill.
John made a slow turn down a narrow street, the sleek black car cutting through the darkness like a blade. Ahead, a tall, shadowy figure waited beside an equally black SUV parked in an abandoned lot. The man was silhouetted against the soft glow of the SUV's headlights, his stance relaxed but watchful, his hands in his pockets.
As John pulled the Mustang up beside the SUV, the engine idled for a moment before shutting off. The sudden silence was thick, its weight pressing down on Louise as they sat for a brief second, unmoving. John glanced over at her, a subtle nod passing between them before they both stepped out of the car.
The man waiting for them—tall, sharply dressed, with an air of quiet authority—took a step forward as they approached. His face, illuminated by the pale glow of the headlights, was expressionless but calm. He greeted them with a slight tilt of his head, his eyes moving first to John and then to Louise.
"Did it go well?" the man asked, his voice low but firm. He looked directly at John, though his gaze flickered toward Louise, the slightest hint of curiosity in his otherwise controlled demeanor.
John remained silent, his eyes steady on the man, but Louise, stepping up beside him, answered with calm confidence. "Yes," she said simply. "It's done."
The man raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer as if assessing her. Then, with a slight nod, he turned back to John. "Good job. The money will be transferred to your account shortly." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek phone, and tapped something into the screen. His eyes lifted to John once more before he added, almost offhandedly, "Happy retirement."
For a moment, John said nothing, his face as still as stone, but there was a subtle shift in his posture, something that only Louise, after years of being by his side, would notice. It was a mix of finality and something else—relief, maybe, but buried deep.
"Thanks," John replied, his voice low and measured. He gave a single nod in return and then turned, walking back to the Mustang without another word. Louise followed closely behind, her footsteps quiet and controlled, her face impassive, though her mind was racing with the weight of everything that had just transpired.
As they climbed back into the car, the doors closing with a soft, solid thud, the silence between them stretched once again. John turned the key, the engine roaring to life, and they pulled away from the lot, leaving the man and the SUV behind. The city lights were a distant glow in the rearview mirror, the road ahead dark and winding.
After a few minutes, John finally broke the silence, his voice calm but carrying an unusual gravity. "You're ready, Louise."
She turned to look at him, her expression calm but questioning. "Ready for what?"
"To do this without me," he said, his gaze still focused on the road ahead. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, but his voice remained steady. "This was your final test. You don't need me anymore. You've learned everything."
Louise didn't respond right away, her mind processing the weight of his words. The final test. It had been unspoken, but she knew. Tonight had been different. Every step of the mission, every movement, every decision—it had all been under her control, guided by the years of training John had drilled into her. She hadn't needed him to intervene, hadn't needed him to correct her. She had done it all on her own.
The car hummed softly as they continued down the empty road, the faint glow of the dashboard casting shadows across John's face. He was quiet again, but she could sense the memories playing behind his eyes. She knew, in some way, this wasn't just her final test—it was the conclusion of a promise John had made, a deal struck long ago.
"It's been a long time," John said, almost to himself, his voice distant. "I remember the day like it was yesterday."
Louise turned her gaze back to the window, watching the trees and empty streets blur past. She didn't say anything, but she knew he wasn't expecting her to.
"I was on a job," John continued, his voice steady but filled with something else now—something deeper. "Just another target, another night. But then… there you were."
He glanced at her briefly, and at that moment, Louise could feel the weight of that memory pressing against the present, pulling them both back to that night eleven years ago. She had been sixteen then, scared and alone. She hadn't known where she was or how she had ended up in his world. But what she did know was that she had seen something she shouldn't have—John, in the middle of a kill. And in his world, there were no witnesses.
"I couldn't do it," John said, his voice quieter now, as if speaking more to himself than to her. "You were just a kid. Alone. Scared. I couldn't…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head slightly as if brushing off the memory.
But Louise knew the rest of the story. He hadn't killed her. Instead, he had made a deal with his organization—a deal that would spare her life. The terms had been simple: John would take her under his wing, train her, and make her one of them. In exchange, her life would be spared, and John could retire once her training was complete. That had been the agreement. And it had led them here, to this moment.
"You've learned everything I can teach you," John said, his voice stronger now. "You can carry out the jobs on your own. You don't need me watching over you anymore."
Louise remained silent, her thoughts swirling in the quiet hum of the car. She had spent years under John's guidance, learning everything there was to know about this life—how to fight, how to kill, how to survive. And now, after all this time, he was saying she was ready, that she could do it on her own.
"I did this to save your life," John said quietly, his hands gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. "It was the only way. But now… now it's time for me to go. For good."
His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of finality. Louise glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, seeing the way his jaw tightened and the way his gaze remained fixed on the road. He was thinking of her—of Helen. His wife. The woman he had always wanted to return to, the life he had always wanted to reclaim.
"Retirement," Louise said softly, almost to herself.
John nodded, though his expression remained unreadable. "Yeah," he murmured. "Retirement. For real, this time."
They drove in silence for a while longer, the road ahead dark and endless. But Louise could feel the shift. This was it. This was the end of the road for them together. He had fulfilled his promise, trained her, and prepared her for this life. Now, it was her turn to walk it alone.
"You'll be fine," John said after a long pause, his voice calm but firm. "You're ready."
Louise didn't respond right away, but inside, she knew he was right. She had been preparing for this moment for years, ever since that fateful night when their paths had crossed. Now, it was time for her to take the lead.
As they continued down the empty road, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence, Louise closed her eyes for just a moment, letting the weight of the evening settle into her bones. This was the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
And for the first time in a long while, she felt ready for it.
And that's it for now! Hope you enjoyed this wild ride of imagining Louise as a world-class assassin trained by none other than John Wick himself. I mean, who would've thought that the girl who couldn't cast a proper spell would end up being a stone-cold, pistol-wielding killer, right? Guess when magic fails, martial arts and silencers get the job done. Anyway, thanks for sticking around! Hopefully, Louise doesn't end up teaching anyone at the Academy how to shoot… but hey, that's a story for another time!