Zephkiel awoke to his phone vibrating loudly. Flipping it open, he found the answer he had been waiting for, Daryl Spencer. Typing the name into the computer; he had already cracked the police database, it was not long before Zephkiel found the file.

“Daryl Spencer, 32, kia,” Zephkiel scanned out loud. Looking through the file, he found exactly what he had been looking for: “under investigation for possible involvement in shady dealings.”

Looking at the time, Zephkiel swore as he realised he was late for his next hit. Shutting his laptop, Zephkiel dashed outside and jumped in his car, speeding towards the Chinese shop.

Zephkiel sighed as he sat in front of the shop, now closed. There was no sign of the owner, and Zephkiel knew he had missed his chance. This would not go down well. Driving home, he once again found himself struggling to sleep, but eventually it came, and he wished it hadn't.

“Excuse me sir, have you got any spare change?” Zephkiel looked down to see a girl, no older than eight, covered in dirt and rags for clothes. Zephkiel often found himself sitting in the park after a hit, where a lot of homeless people resided, but it was the first time he was ever approached by a child.

“Are you out here by yourself?” Zephkiel asked the child.

“No, my mommy is over there,” the girl answered, pointing to a building just outside the park.

“Can you take me to her?” Zephkiel asked earnestly; the girl obliged.

Zephkiel cringed inwardly at the smell as he approached a somewhat young, but older than him, woman laying on a pile of boxes, and under a small, raggedy blanket. Zephkiel noticed how peaceful she looked, and despite the ripped clothes, messy hair and dirt-stained face, something stirred within Zephkiel. Despite his young age, and lonesome work, he longed for companionship, and had no idea why, but felt there was something in this woman.

The woman stirred from her sleep, as if on cue, and looked up at Zephkiel, her peacefulness replaced in an instant.

“Naomi, how many times have I told you not to talk to strangers?” she snapped.

“But mum, we need the money,” the girl insisted.

“And if you were kidnapped, what would I do?” The woman sighed, looking up at Zephkiel. “It doesn't matter what I say, she always tries to do everything she can...” Zephkiel said nothing, mostly because he had nothing to say. “Anyway,” the woman continued, “I'm sorry she bothered you.”

Zephkiel nodded and turned, but hesitated. “How old are you?” he asked bluntly.

“I'm twenty-four,” the woman answered.

“And why are you here?”

The woman looked at her daughter, and said softly “I got pregnant. Ran away with my boyfriend, but he left me for dead.”

“Heh...” Zephkiel muttered under his breath. “Look, if you need a place to stay...”

“I... I couldn't...” the woman trailed off.

“It's no bother,” Zephkiel insisted, turning around to face her again.

The woman's face twisted in anger, and she yelled “look, I'm not some cheap hooker you can just use for your own enjoyment and then dump back into a gutter!”

Zephkiel could not help the sly grin crossing his face, as it did whenever he retaliated to something someone said. “And I'm not some two-bit guy in a suit looking for a cheap lay to ease my troubled marriage.”

Neither said a thing, until Zephkiel offered his hand to the woman. “Come on,” he said softly. “I can't promise you anything, but I can offer you a decent meal and a warm night's sleep. Maybe some fresh clothes.”

The woman looked at her daughter, then back to Zephkiel. “What's your name?” she asked.

“James,” he replied.

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty.”
“Well then, James, I accept your offer.” The woman took Zephkiel by the hand and pulled herself up. “My name is Michelle, and this is my daughter Naomi.”

“Pleasure,” Zephkiel nodded, before turning and walking to his car.

-- The next day --

“How do I look?” Michelle asked Zephkiel, twirling around in a fancy dress.

With her new haircut, clean appearance, and expensive outfit, Zephkiel had only one answer. “You look beautiful,” he smiled. Naomi giggled at her mother, excited as she eyed her own new appearance in the mirror.

“How can you afford all this?” Michelle asked Zephkiel as they walked into the parking lot.

“My job pays well,” Zephkiel said simply, “and I don't exactly need much to keep myself alive.”

“What exactly is it that you do?” Michelle inquired.

Zephkiel looked at the woman, before looking away. “You don't want to know,” he said bluntly.

“Look,” Michelle continued to press, “we've all done things we're not proud of. I'm not here to judge you.”

Zephkiel sighed, knowing he would have to tell her sooner or later. “Naomi,” he said, dropping down on one knee and pulling a note from his wallet, “go and get yourself an ice-cream.”

“Yay,” the girl cheered and rushed off.”

Zephkiel looked at Michelle solemnly, before looking around to make sure there was no one in earshot.

“I'm an assassin,” he said bluntly. “I work for a secret organisation contracted to take out anyone considered a threat to national security, without being restricted by the red tape of the judicial system.”

As expected, Michelle was more than disbelieving, but Zephkiel slowly pulled his over-shirt back to reveal his pistol. “I'm not kidding...” he trailed off.

Zephkiel awoke to the sound of his phone having received the message he had been dreading. He was due at the office to discuss his failure the previous night.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” his boss snarled as Zephkiel entered the room. “Our first black mark on the record. Is this going to be a continuing trend?” the man asked menacingly.

“It's not a problem,” Zephkiel replied, “I'll get him tonight.”

“It's too late. He's on a flight bound for China. You missed your chance. You've failed.” Zephkiel hated that word, but he kept a straight face. “That's not all,” the man continued. He threw a packet on the table, inside contained a swab of blood. “This was found at the scene of a police officer's house. A murder scene. Other than this swab of blood, the police have no evidence to trace the killer, much like several other murders that have taken place over the last few days. Naturally, I can't prove that you are behind the kills, but watch yourself, Zephkiel,” the man snarled once again.

Zephkiel knew he was in hot water now. “Are we done?” he asked bluntly, having nothing else to say.

“For the next two weeks at least, yes, you are done. I'm placing your actions under investigation, so I suggest you stay out of sight until you hear from me again.”

“If I had the choice,” Zephkiel muttered under his breath, “I wouldn't even see you after you so graciously allowed me to.”