by J. N. Chaney
Perhaps he was, and I had only grown used to it.
“Headshots all around.” Mulberry came closer. “You know, I think we may have a budding prodigy on our hands.”
“Pearl’s a great teacher, Mr. Pryar,” I answered. “She could teach anyone to do this.”
Pearl cocked her brow and smiled at me, taking a moment to ruffle my hair playfully as she walked past me.
“Keep it going, kid,” said Mulberry, giving me a slight nod. “You have a long way to go, but you’re getting there.”
I smiled and returned the nod. I wanted to ask if Clementine could join me but refrained. The two of us still had class together, as well as general exercise and hand-to-hand combat lessons, but the specialization lessons were taken individually. Pearl was teaching me how to handle a wide selection of firearms, while Clem was undergoing similar instruction in knives and blades of all sorts from Galion.
I had seen him fighting, and I estimated that he had to be Number Four or Five in the guild. I took a few classes from him myself, trying to expand my skill set. While I wasn’t at Clementine’s level, I could feel myself improving a lot with each session. My confidence was better than it had once been, and it made everything else so much easier.
“Well, it’s time for lunch,” Mulberry said. “But I want you and Clementine reporting to my office right after. I have something that I need to talk to the two of you about. Understood? Shall we say, an hour from now?”
“Yes, Mr. Pryar,” I said, inspecting my pistol and twisting the suppressor off the barrel. “I’ll be there.”
“Did he tell you what this was about?” Clementine asked, jogging to catch up with me.
I shook my head. “He just said to be in his office right after lunch. Said he had something he needed to talk to us about.”
Clem narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”
I turned around, surprised. “What? Nothing. I didn’t do anything. He just told me—”
“I’m kidding, you idiot,” she said with a laugh. She grinned and pressed her fist into my shoulder. “You need to work on not being so gullible.”
“I’m not that gullible. I—” I paused, not sure how to continue that argument. “Okay, fine. I’ll work on it.”
Clem grinned. “Adorable.”
It was my turn to playfully punch her in the shoulder, so I did.
The door was open when we arrived, and Mulberry was already seated at his desk, reading over something on his pad. We quietly entered and took our seats opposite him.
“We have a new assignment on Osiris,” he started, the low rumble of his voice still unmistakable as he set the pad down on the desk and looked up at us. “A kill order on a member of one of the criminal factions here in Ruto.”
So this was another job. We’d gone with Pearl on fourteen individual assignments by now. Each time, the work had been easier, smoother, simpler than before. We had done as she’d told us, and slowly, we were able to take more responsibility. Never any kills, though. We both still had yet to pull the actual trigger ourselves. I suspected that time would come eventually, although I wasn’t looking forward to it.
“Why isn’t Pearl here for this?” asked Clementine, and I suddenly realized she was right. Pearl had always been in the room during a mission brief.
“She’s not going with you this time,” he said plainly.
The two of us paused, blinking curiously at the old man before everything finally clicked.
“Are you saying—” Clementine paused, excitement bubbling up in her expression. “Are you saying this is ours?”
He nodded.
I raised my brow. I could see Clementine almost jumping out of her seat, only stopping herself by gripping the arms of the chair.
“I—we’re ready, Mr. Pryar!” she said, grinning.
Again I found myself caught up in my sister’s excitement, smiling despite the growing dread in my stomach.
A job of our own? I couldn’t fathom the idea. We’d improved in our training, been on a handful of missions, but we weren’t experts yet. Far from it, actually.
“That’s what Pearl and Galion have been telling me, Clementine, but I’ll still be joining the two of you on this assignment. There’s a fantastic little sandwich shop right in the area that makes the best meatball subs this side of Epsy, I swear to gods.” He looked longingly into the air above us like he was picturing the food.
It made sense, I supposed. Our first assignment would have to be supervised, but it only made the knot in my stomach worse. If I failed, it would be under Mulberry’s eye.
His smile disappeared as he picked his pad up, flicking the screen towards the left wall, which carried the image from the device and blew it up tenfold.
“The target’s name is Jodie Crom,” said Mulberry, right as the man’s face appeared, along with a series of details regarding his appearance and some key info about his past. He was a pudgy-looking man with pale skin, a receding hairline, and what looked like a lazy eye. “He’s a front-runner for a smuggling ring that deals mostly in weapons here on the planet. He’s been known to trade in other areas, including drugs and sex trafficking. Over the last few years, he’s grown his wealth as well as his belly, and it’s made him slow and clumsy. I thought he’d an easy way to break the two of you in.”
I studied the man’s face, but also Clem’s. There was something manic in her eyes, the look of storm clouds brewing. She looked confident. Determined. I was glad for that because it meant we wouldn’t fail.
“The research for the job’s already been done,” Mulberry continued, running through a series of stills of Crom’s house, with marked notes for entry and exit. A handful of suggestions in handwriting that I recognized.
Not everyone in the organization was an assassin. A lot of them were security specialists whose job was to plan out the operations, finding points of entry and available exits, weak spots in security, and to make any suggestions to allow for a seamless and smooth operation.
Mulberry clicked the screen back to a picture of Jodie Crom. “Our target has some breathing difficulties, as well as high cholesterol. Introducing a very common cholesterol medication known for constricting the airways via aerosol form will make for the smoothest kill. Normally, you’d only take a small amount of it per day, but we’re giving a heavy dose of concentrate, which should suffocate the target while he sleeps. Undetectable. Untraceable.” Mulberry leaned back in his seat, studying us. “However, since you two will be the boots on the ground, you may need to adapt and come up with an alternative, should things go south.”
Clementine couldn’t stop herself this time, jumping lightly to her feet. “You can count on us!”
He smiled. “I know. Now, for your first job, we’ll be providing you with suits.” He tapped a small screen embedded in his desk. “Pearl, are you here with the equipment yet?”
The door opened, and Pearl came in with a couple of full-body jumpsuits in her hands. I tried to look into her eyes, but she avoided my gaze as she placed the suits on the table and left without saying a word.
Clem and I both stared as she left. I wondered what was wrong? Was she mad at us? It was always hard to tell with Pearl.
“These are top of the line,” Mulberry said, pulling our attention back to the equipment. “The same kind of light body armor that is standard for our operatives. The surface is a matte black. So long as you stay in the shadows, you’ll be out of sight. It also blocks infrared and radar, as well as having a temperature regulator, so it will shield you from heat scans. Even so, it doesn’t always work against the more sophisticated security systems, so you should still be careful. Remember your training. Don’t rely too heavily on technology. Machines and fancy suits are great, but at the end of the day, your own skills are what will keep you alive. The rest of the details will be transferred to your pads. Get your suits on and report to the shuttle bay in thirty minutes.”
11
I sat in the back of the shuttle, tugging at the uniform. I
was supposed to look like the service staff of the building we were infiltrating, but I felt silly. The outfit fit me to perfection, slightly baggy to accommodate the body armor underneath.
Running my finger over it, I could feel the armor slightly adjusting to my movements, adapting to protect my body.
I’d get used to both the armor and the service outfit soon, I decided, and leaned back in my seat.
It was odd to think that when I woke up this morning and pictured what I’d be doing this evening, it had been something entirely different. Since I didn’t have any other classes, I’d hoped to catch up on a book I was reading. It was called SmokeBarrel, a story about a female Renegade who had found herself stranded in a small desert town. She’d taken a contract to pay for repairs on her ship, but the job had led to a surprising series of events that would ultimately lead her to take down a powerful warlord. The Renegade’s name was Shelly Connors, and she had a certain way of speaking that I found admirable. Brash and brave, forward and direct. She was never afraid to tell someone how she felt about them.
It was easy to escape into a world where I wasn’t the one having to fight all the fights. Where someone who should, by all standards, be the villain, but would so often chose to do the right thing.
“Hey, are you listening to me?”
I looked up, blinking and focusing back on what was in my hand. It was the pad with the information on the target. I had zoned out while reading it and had even flipped a few pages down without thinking. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said to Clem, blinking. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Come on,” she said, smacking my knee. I felt the armor react to the touch. “This is it. This is where we prove ourselves and show everyone that we’re ready to be part of the team. Can’t you be a little excited?”
I looked away from the pad, trying and failing to fake the emotion she wanted to see.
She placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not scared, are you?”
I shrugged. “Not scared,” I lied. “It’s just, the anticipation is getting to me.”
Her arms wrapped around my neck in a warm hug. “We’re going to rock this, you and me. Just keep that in mind, and we’ll do fine.”
I nodded. She was right. Whatever was bothering me didn’t seem to have the same effect on Clem. She could do this job well enough for both of us.
Mulberry’s voice boomed from the front of the shuttle. “Fear or anticipation for the task ahead is something that everyone feels.” I felt a flush run over my cheeks, embarrassed that he’d heard our conversation. “No matter how experienced. It’s adrenaline, getting your body ready for what’s to come. You’ll get used to it. Learn to control it and make it your strength.”
“Hey, boss,” Clem called to Mulberry. “When do we get our numbers?”
“This job formally initiates you into the organization,” Mulberry said. “Once it’s finished, you’ll be assigned individual numbers for field use. Until then, over the radio, I’ll just call you Raven and Sparrow.”
“Am I Raven?” Clem asked.
“You’re the one with black hair,” he answered. “What do you think?”
“So I’m Sparrow?” I asked. “I like that.”
The shuttle came to a stop. Mulberry unstrapped himself from the driver’s seat and came back, handing Clementine a small bag.
“This is an exit bag. Has Pearl explained these to you before?” he asked.
We both nodded. Exit bags were used for suicide, at least most of the time, but could be used as a silent attack as well. The bags had the benefit of being an inert, untraceable gas that was already naturally present in the atmosphere, wouldn’t cause an alarm response in the target while they slept, and guaranteed death in a way that would seem reasonable to a coroner as consistent with the risks of certain medications, of which this man took many.
“We’ll handle it,” Clem said with confidence. She took the bag and tucked it inside her suit.
Mulberry nodded. “The kill will be fast and simple. He’ll be in his room, sleeping next to his latest woman. Clementine will take the kill. Abigail, I want you on lookout.”
We both nodded.
Mulberry pulled out a key card and handed it to me. “You need to be in and out before anybody realizes that the target is dead. Keep an eye on the exits and find the escape routes. If you run into security, take care of them and keep moving. Never stay in one place for longer than thirty seconds. That key card will get you past the lobby and up to the target’s floor. I’ll be down here, and you can contact me over the comms. Remember to not call each other by name while inside, and only call me Comm.” He placed a hand on each of our shoulders, an intense look in his eyes. “Good luck.”
We stepped out of the back of the shuttle, pulling on long trench coats to cover our suits and gear. The target lived in a fifty-story luxury apartment building.
There were cameras and security, but both were made with the interest of protecting the privacy of the wealthy inhabitants.
“Nervous, Sparrow?” Clementine asked me.
“Excited, Raven,” I answered in a deadpan voice.
My eyes were already studying the outside of the building. I gulped, trying to hide my apprehension, and then the two of us walked toward the building.
We reached an unguarded side entrance, far from the main lobby.
There was a moment of panic as the card processed, then relief hit me as the light blinked green, and the magnetic lock released the door.
The first area appeared to be a laundry room, but none of the machines were running, and no one was around. “Looks like everyone’s gone for the night,” said Clem.
The comm in my ear clicked to life. “We chose tonight because it’s a holiday,” said Mulberry. “The building has a skeleton crew. Security is a different story. Check the third dryer nearest to you. Number sixteen. It has two packs of clothes inside. Find them now and remember the location for later.”
Clem popped the lid on the dryer and pulled out two bags, each marked with a blue label. We’d gotten used to the drill by now, having done this with Pearl so many times.
She shoved them back inside and tapped her ear. “Got them.”
“Now bring up the map of the building and work your way to the target,” explained Mulberry.
We reached the elevator, and I pressed the card into a second sensor. This one reacted immediately, probably lacking the kind of security programs the first one had. A screen came to life, showing an image of the building and a message: “Seventeenth floor: Confirm?”
I pressed the green button, and the doors closed, slowly taking us up to the seventeenth floor. I looked down at my suit, which was covered by the coat. It still looks wrong, I thought as I pulled on a pair of thin, black gloves and drew my pistol from its holster under my shoulder.
“You any good with that?” Clem asked, checking the pack with the canister.
“I’m not bad.” I pulled the slide back to load a round into the chamber and flipped the safety off, making sure that the suppressor was fitted tight. “Are you any good with those?” I asked, eyeing her knives.
Clem grinned, lacking any kind of modesty as she drew a pair of knives from their sheaths. “One of the best, I’ve been told.”
I returned her smile.
Despite the jokes, I could sense the anticipation in my body begin to rise. It was always like this. Jittery before the action but focused when it started.
I had a fifteen-centimeter combat knife tucked into a sheath strapped to my right thigh, as well as three extra magazines for the pistol. If I needed more beyond that, we already failed.
Clem, for her part, had brought a belt of knives and nothing more. I wondered if that had been Galion’s recommendation.
A soft ping signaled our arrival. I rolled my neck and pulled on a mask to cover my face, then raised the pistol as the door opened while Clem also slipped on her mask.
The elevator opened right into the target’s apartment. It was one
of the most lavish places I’d ever seen, steeped in glimmering glass on every wall, fine furniture with velvet cloth, and a sparkling chandelier hanging over the dining room table. Soft evening lights illuminated the inner hallways, lending the apartment a dreamlike quality.
I licked my suddenly dry lips and covered the living and dining rooms quickly before gesturing to Clem that it was clear. The target’s bedroom wasn’t much farther.
I checked my pad with my free hand. Odd. No motion or heat sensors. Maybe they only relied on the security down in the lobby.
I tucked the thought in the back of my mind for later as Clem waved for me to keep going.
We reached the other side, and she leaned in close to me. “The brief says that the security teams for each floor have a pretty impressive response time. So we can’t let the target’s wife hit the panic button or scream, I guess, until we’re already clear.”
I nodded as I scanned our surroundings, keeping my stance low and tightening my grip on the pistol. The second floor had a balcony that looked over the first. It led directly into a hallway with a couple of doors branching out to the right and to the left. According to surveillance, the target would be in a bedroom about twenty paces down the hall at the end of the fork.
“How big is this place?” I whispered as we moved down the hall, keeping my voice low and my senses on high alert.
Clem stepped in behind me and slightly to my left. “I’d rather know how expensive it is to live here. If you had all this money, wouldn’t you leave this city? It’s a shithole.”
I shrugged. We had been living rent-free in the complex for the entirety of our training, and more than a few of the already established operatives had their own individual rooms. I’d never cared much for fancy things or high-rise buildings.
Honestly, I’d never considered where I’d live after we left the guild. Between the orphanage and this, I’d never had to think about it. I shook the thought from my mind. Now was the time to focus on the task at hand.
We reached the fork, and I glanced down both sides before giving Clem the all-clear. The left-hand hallway had a single door leading to the master bedroom, where our target would be sleeping. I moved towards it, gingerly reaching for the antique gold door handle, and twisting it. Despite its apparent age, it was perfectly oiled and turned without making a sound.
