Another Job

The air is stale. She can barely breathe but she’s used to it. No matter how many times she does it her job never gets easier, she still feels the bile rise to the back of her throat, her hands still sweat, she can still hear her heart pounding in her chest.
She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. Her heart rate drops and she is calm again. Dropping to one knee she pops the tripod of her rifle and rests it on the edge of the rooftop, she rests her left hand lightly on the barrel, her right on the trigger.
Her target is staying in the building just across from the one she’s atop and should be showing up soon. She wraps her index finger around the trigger, looks through the scope and waits. It’s an in and out job. One shot. Clean. Just like always.
He walks out onto the balcony. Click. A small splatter of blood lands on the wall behind him. Job done. Clean. Just like always.
#
The water is almost hot enough to scald her, but she enjoys it. She turns the shower off and steps out into the foggy bathroom, grabs her white towel and enters her bedroom. She grabs a pair or plain white panties, a white lace bra, and a clean white cotton shirt.
Her house is sparsely decorated, everything just necessary save for the large bookcase in her living room. She grabs the notebook sitting on her nightstand and goes into the kitchen for a glass of water.
She makes herself comfortable on the suede loveseat in her living room and flips through to a new page in the notebook. She writes down the date, her hits name, and the amount she was paid and by who. Most in her field of work will tell you not to leave a paper trail but she has been doing this long enough to know she’s got nothing to worry about.
She’s practically a ghost in the world. This house is the only tangible thing she has and she’s willing to leave it behind if need be. Her contacts are few and far between, most ghosts themselves but she manages to find them.
There’s a knock at her door. She slides the notebook under her seat and goes to answer it. A quick look through peephole; a man in a black suit with his hair slicked back holding an envelope.
She opens the door and invites him inside. She curls back up on her loveseat and offers him the couch, “What is it now?”
He looks nervous. Must be a new recruit.
“I assume that’s a payoff?” she motions towards the envelope.
“Boss was impressed with you. Said you left nothing to link yourself, or him, back to the big wig.”
“So? Is he not used to competent hired help?”
He chuckles, “I guess not.”
“He already paid me for the job—”
“Oh this is an advance for another one. He wants to keep you on the payroll.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I don’t do repeat work for anyone. One job, that’s it, then I’m gone.”
“But he needs you to take out someone from another—”
“No. I assume he thinks he can get to the top of the underground world with a few hits? I don’t do hits on other factions.”
He turns the envelope around in his hands, “He might not like that.”
“Killing within the factions leads to wars. I’m not taking part in anything of the sort and I’d be dragged into it if I decided to accept his offer.”
“Alright. If that’s how you feel.”
She stares at him, “You new?”
He looks surprised by the question, “Yeah…uh, just got brought in a few weeks ago.”
“Messenger is a dangerous job.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Hope you put a lot of thought into joining up with these guys, isn’t exactly something you can take back.”
“My dads in the business, I’ve been around this kind of crap all my life…” he’s looking down at the envelope.
“Never steal from them.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking about it…I used to run small errands for big mob bosses back in the day, looked at the money the same way you are now thinking how much I could skim without them noticing. It’s not worth it.”
“Easy for you to say, you became someone.”
“You might to, if you live long enough.”
He looks nervous again.
“He won’t accept no, will he?”
He shakes his head, “I’m sorry…”
“For what? Not your call to make.”
His eyes remind her of a pathetic little dog when he looks up at her, “I’m really sorry…”
She sighs heavily, “You have two choices here, boy; either leave and hope they never find you, or do what you were told and face your death now.”
Before he can reach into his jacket she up and holding a pistol to his head. She keeps them all over her house, just small Derringers stashed under cushions and other spots.
“You’re an amateur, did you think you’d have a chance here?”
This isn’t the first time someone has tried to snuff her out. Her talents are great and in demand, without her there are not many other competent assassins to choose from. Few seems to survive outside of a group setting, few can get by without regular work and an organization backing them, covering their tracks for them, holding their hands.
“Please, I don’t want to die.”
She rolls her eyes and squeezes the trigger. He was young and stupid, they all are when they start. There is blood on her nice white shirt now. Time to pack up and leave this place. She picks up the envelope he had with him; only about ten thousand dollars is inside. Barely the advance she is used to.
Oh well. She has the money they paid her for the job she just completed. That’s certainly enough to get her a small apartment in another state. She heard from one of her buddies that there was ample work in Washington, so many big time politicians that need silencing. It’s always such a big mess when a mob boss decides they want her services permanently.
Maybe she’ll drop out of the scene altogether. Stop accepting jobs and just live off her savings. Her job is not an easy one and she hates to admit it, but she’s getting too old to keep doing this.
She goes to her room and takes off her blood splattered shirt before grabbing her cell phone and calling one of her old friends.
“Get me a house in Washington, I might be setting up shop.”
She hangs up and tosses the phone in the trash. She’ll also have to call a ‘clean up’ crew to come in and wipe away anything suspicious. She hates using them but has no other choice. The ten thousand should be enough to take care of their services.
Time for another hot shower before she wraps up everything here. Others will probably check in when the boy doesn’t return. Nothing she hasn’t dealt with before.

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