Status: in progress.
Save Me From The Nothing I've Become
Uno.
“You know,” Tori's voice entered the room, “this may be a tad bit more difficult than I thought.”
“I know,” I replied, nodding my head, “we've never done two separate jobs before.”
“We've never worked alone before, for that matter.” She looked to the wall of newspaper clippings. Our history out on the field was right here. Every kill, every hit, right there.
When we were born, we were chosen for this life. My father was born into a family of assassins, and just because I was a girl, didn't mean I wouldn't be in it, too. I was marked as a newborn, with the X shaped scar on the back of my neck. When I was four, I met a girl named Tori, who was two years older than me. She was the daughter of one of the women assassins, and told me she was my partner.
We've been inseparable since; we work together on everything. Except, well, now.
“David Hutto,” she read off her paper, “nice name.”
“Nicholas Jonas,” I said, staring at the picture of a curly haired boy around my age. His father owed some higher ups money, and ran away from it. He had four sons – full house – and why Nicholas was chosen was unknown to me. “Damn. He's cute.” She peeked at the paper.
“Not.”
“Well, I think he is.” I looked to her paper, making a face. “He's any better?”
“He is,” she glared, “he's my age, too. Nineteen, baby.” She slipped her folder into her bag. I did the same before we left.
We reached the abandoned warehouse about 15 minutes later. It wasn't far from our apartment, so we just walked. “Tony?” I called, stepping inside.
“Yo, you got ya assignments?” He asked, a thick accent lining his voice.
“Yep,” Tori said, nodding, “when do we leave?”
“Here,” he pulled two tickets out from his back pocket, “both of ya flights leave tomorrow 'round twelve.”
“Okay.” I took mine, examining it. California? Sweeeet.
“I want ya to get unda' they skin, alright? Get 'em to fall in love wit' you, and 'den, rip 'em to shreds, understand?”
“What if,” I started, “his father gives me the money?”
“If you can do 'dat, then you betta then I thought.” He smiled a crooked grin. “If ya get it, 'den you don't gotta kill 'em.”
“Gotcha.” We away our tickets.
“Play nice.” He said, chuckling as we left.
“I know,” I replied, nodding my head, “we've never done two separate jobs before.”
“We've never worked alone before, for that matter.” She looked to the wall of newspaper clippings. Our history out on the field was right here. Every kill, every hit, right there.
When we were born, we were chosen for this life. My father was born into a family of assassins, and just because I was a girl, didn't mean I wouldn't be in it, too. I was marked as a newborn, with the X shaped scar on the back of my neck. When I was four, I met a girl named Tori, who was two years older than me. She was the daughter of one of the women assassins, and told me she was my partner.
We've been inseparable since; we work together on everything. Except, well, now.
“David Hutto,” she read off her paper, “nice name.”
“Nicholas Jonas,” I said, staring at the picture of a curly haired boy around my age. His father owed some higher ups money, and ran away from it. He had four sons – full house – and why Nicholas was chosen was unknown to me. “Damn. He's cute.” She peeked at the paper.
“Not.”
“Well, I think he is.” I looked to her paper, making a face. “He's any better?”
“He is,” she glared, “he's my age, too. Nineteen, baby.” She slipped her folder into her bag. I did the same before we left.
We reached the abandoned warehouse about 15 minutes later. It wasn't far from our apartment, so we just walked. “Tony?” I called, stepping inside.
“Yo, you got ya assignments?” He asked, a thick accent lining his voice.
“Yep,” Tori said, nodding, “when do we leave?”
“Here,” he pulled two tickets out from his back pocket, “both of ya flights leave tomorrow 'round twelve.”
“Okay.” I took mine, examining it. California? Sweeeet.
“I want ya to get unda' they skin, alright? Get 'em to fall in love wit' you, and 'den, rip 'em to shreds, understand?”
“What if,” I started, “his father gives me the money?”
“If you can do 'dat, then you betta then I thought.” He smiled a crooked grin. “If ya get it, 'den you don't gotta kill 'em.”
“Gotcha.” We away our tickets.
“Play nice.” He said, chuckling as we left.