Prologue

They moved out swiftly, on a group direction for the first time in months. There was also one male in their group, which was surprising but welcomed, since he was one of the best. He was aging, but he was worthy; still fit and agile which proved that 42 weren’t too old at all.

Each member (five of them for this run) wore the complete uniform and it was almost impossible to tell their gender from the cut of the material. Four of the five were girls and yet their curves were so hidden under the padding of the body armour they wore under their dark greens that anyone would guess on first glance that they were male.

They separated off singularly at the corner of the building, communicating with each other through throat mikes or sign language. One by one they entered the building at different points, and only the slightest of thuds could be heard when someone wasn’t clean enough with a kill (bodies falling to the ground awkwardly) or if they fell on something unsuspected, such as another person.

They worked quickly. They were supposed to be in and out within an hour. Half an hour was the best hope, but an hour was the widest scope they were allowed since that was when the next shift of guards would arrive, and they would then have to deal with yet another set. Which would be a time waste and also result in unnecessary casualties.

The best of the group swept through the quickest, her boots silent on the laminex floor with her weapons still holstered as she killed. Silence was needed here and the quietest kill was a twist to the nerves in a few choice places, or a quick snap of the neck, depending on which direction you were attacking from. She was allocated the widest area to cover, and hence the most people to mark since she was one of the few who killed each silently and effectively. It was a simple pinch, twist, snap and they were gone. Her fingers would duck into a small pouch on her hip and then it would snap the object through the fleshy part of their hand, between the thumb and forefinger. Each person she killed was left with the mark of a small silver hoop pierced through their hand with pure force, and then she moved on. It was her calling card, of sorts. They all had one, a registered mark of a kill which was logged on the computer, it was also a method of counting when you were working too fast, simply count how many were missing from your waist bag at the end of the job. This method of course didn’t work when they were being snipers at a certain event, but even then they usually photographed their kill before they took the shot.

Yes, most of their kills were almost like trophies in a way, a mark of a job well done, and at every hundred kills that a person made celebrations were had. Or at least that’s what they called getting drunk in one of the recreation rooms in the HQ.

Thirty seven minutes passed before the last member of the group caught up, and all five stood for a moment by the window in the northern corner of the building, looking out at the view while they waited for the last to complete the check on her weapons and armour. Once she was ready, they were off again, and they had vacated the building forty minutes after first entering it, which wasn’t too bad actually.

The male nodded at them and left, heading in a different direction to the four girls who set off quickly, the shortest leading the females with cat like ease, as the best of the group, and also the tallest, trailed behind, ensuring they weren’t been followed in any way. Their part of the job was done, for them after all, it had merely been a field exam for the most part, real life training for when a job of the same thing could soon be offered. After all, it cleared the path for a customer to simply walk through the now unguarded doors with the promise of a cut once he was rich and famous from his attack against his ex work. They had hired him, and now they would suffer the consequences. HQ didn’t really care about the lack of pay, they had a steady full funded budget and this was free training for their latest hopes of world renowned killers. It seemed like a win-win situation to them.

And the killers themselves? They just did what they were told.

Once back at HQ they went through the motions of signing in and recording their process out on a job. They swiped cards, keyed in codes and spoke for a voice recognition ID so that their activity was entered into the computer automatically. There was a blackboard on the wall outside the change rooms where they all added onto the running tally of however many people they had marked that night and then their weapons had to go in for their checks to make sure they were still operational, which they were of course, it was simply regulation. Within another hour they were finished finally, after having a shower and changed into civilians clothing, throwing their uniforms in the laundry where they would be washed and pressed for them, ready to go home and relax after a hard nights work. Well, it wasn’t really hard. Exhilarating though, pumping adrenalin, they all felt alive through the death they had caused.

They all slept soundly that night, most falling asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. All for one girl who stared at the ceiling as thoughts ran through her head for hours until she eventually drifted off sometime after the sun had started glaring through her blinds. Eventually her body gave into the slumber but she knew she wouldn’t be asleep for long. She was due back at HQ by 10am at the latest. She tossed and turned, but did indeed sleep, which is more than what could be said for those people who had a conscience.