A/N: This is inspired by Healer.
Just an experimental story. It's time more girls kicked butt!
I plan to buy an island by the age of twenty-one. Retire comfortably, by the age of twenty-five.
Dreams within my reach, because of the line of work I do.
Welcome to my story.
I never murder people. That's a rule. If people started contracting me as a hit-man (everyone assumes I'm a man), I'd be on so many interpol lists, my cover will be blown. Instead, I keep a lower profile. Earning a reputation for being quick, discreet and resourceful. People heard about how I handled the secret service in Russia. They were impressed. After that, the phone never stopped ringing and my diary's been double-booked since.
I've been paid in Won, Yen, Baht...mainly Asian currency, though I accept all major credit cards too.
Clients trusted me, because I never demanded an upfront fee.
Their money was only accepted, when I got the job done and they were satisfied.
Nobody ever learnt my name or even, what I looked like. When I was out on a job, I always wore shades, a baseball cap and black clothing with a rucksack. I had two people working with me - one above and one below. The person, above me I called "boss" and the person below, I called "my minion."
My boss is an underground hermit - in her lair, she can hack into anything.
She's the one who feeds intel into my earpiece, and guides me around the city.
The minion is my henchman. If I can't get to a place in a time, or if I'm too busy to pick up a delivery, I send him to do it for me. We all have a level of trust in each other, because if one of us screws up - then we might as well hang up our boots and go home.
To explain how impossible that is...
My parents are dead.
No significant other.
I have no home.
Despite having millions in the bank, I rent a studio flat that isn't fit for one person, let alone two.
That island looked more appealing, every time I had to return to that shit hole, and face a takeout pizza or microwave meal ordered ahead by ajumma.
Ajumma is just another name I use to refer to the boss-lady.
"Ajumma," I whined, as I turned the key in the lock. "Today's my night off. My only one of the week. Can't Yusuf take this?"
"They requested you," Ajumma said sharply. "The one that got away in Russia. Did Yusuf get away in Russia? Well. Did he?"
"You know full well he didn't." I rolled my eyes. "This guy better be paying good money."
"How much?" I grabbed an apple of the kitchen counter, and rubbed it on my sweater to remove the dust. Shrugging, I took a bite.
"One...get this...million dollars."
I spat the apple chunk out.
"That's...That's a lot of money."
Ajumma didn't have to be in the same room as me, to know a slow smile was spreading across my lips. I took another, larger bite out of the apple doing a quick, mental sum. Do this job, the island was within reach. Maybe I could even buy a hydroelectricity generator, to sustain renewable energy on my island. A couple of wind turbines too...and a beach hut.
Who could resist a beach hut?
"What do I have to do?" I logged into my laptop, and read my email.
Nothing interesting. Just a couple of boring newsletters.
"Pick a guy up from the airport. His name's...Chang Il Wook. He's a defector from North Korea."
"No shit?" My fingers froze over the keyboard.
"No shit," Ajumma confirmed. "North Korea is a touchy subject right now. No wonder the Mafia want to get their hands on this Wook guy, before the American government do."
"The Mafia?" If I had a phone, I would've dropped it. "When did the mafia become involved in all this?"
"Just to be clear," Ajumma said slowly. "The Mafia are the ones hiring you. Remember, your promise? Get in, do the job, get out. No questions asked, so no questions answered."
"Yeah. Sorry." I shook myself. "When is he landing?"
"Incheon to LAX...at 1900 hours."
I glanced at the wristwatch on my wrist. "That's only twenty three minutes away!"
"And the airport's a half hour drive...chop chop."
"I hate you," I growled.
"Not really," Ajumma replied sweetly.
Breaking a few speed limits, but slowing down whenever Ajumma warned me of cameras up ahead, I reached the airport in fifteen. Dressed in my black garb, I ran into the main terminal to only stop and scan the arrival boards like an action hero, attracting a few looks. Especially since I'd adopted that action hero stance. You know, feet planted out wide, fists clenched at the side...and panting wildly?
A little kid even ducked, so she could see under my baseball cap.
Pulling the peak low over my eyes, I shouldered past exhausted travellers and their welcoming committee alike, to lurk near the arrival gates.
Imagine my surprise, when directly opposite me, there's a bored looking guy holding a placard.
Greetings, Chang Il Wook, it said.
"Ajumma." Inconspicuously, I touched the earpiece whilst I looked through my shades at him. "Are you getting a load of this?"
"Yeah," she breathed, and in the background, I heard her fingers typing furiously. "Stand still, so I can get a good picture of him. Then I'll run it through my database."
Letting my hand drop, I let ajumma activate the secret camera on the bridge of my shades. A small flash blinded me, but to the outside world, it appeared like nothing had happened. The guy opposite me was wearing a black tux, with a white shirt and no tie. Like me, he had mirroring shades, and was talking through an earpiece.
"Nothing," Ajumma came back, frustrated. "Whoever these guys are - they're good."
"So, just to confirm - we don't know if they're FBI or the Mafia?"
"Should I retreat?"
"No - there's others. At least three more. One of them's clocked you. Take off your sunglasses and cap."
"Are you crazy?" I hissed out of the side of my mouth, now wary of using my lips. "And let them have a good look at my face?"
"They're getting suspicious. You have to do something."
My eyes darted side to side.
"Why do I feel like this is a set-up?"
Turning my back on the gathering crowd, I headed towards the exit. Nothing would've prevented me from going through it, if it wasn't for the unnatural angle the man closest to it, was sitting at. He was dressed in civilian clothes - jeans and a hooded sweater. Like he was trying to impersonate a college student, but just missing the mark. For one, his eyes weren't fixed on the newspaper held out in front of him - but rather on me.
Second...he was now getting up.
Switching direction, I started heading to the toilets.
Banging open the Men's door, I used the handle to launch myself up the wall, practically running up it, before pressing myself into the shadows above the door and against the ceiling, so I was looking down on the room, my arms and legs outstretched and holding me in place. This move had required a lot of muscle training and weight lifting.
I'd done it so fast, that the two men at the urinals hadn't even seen me come in.
"Where is he? C'mon, where did he go?" Hooded sweatshirt guy and his two tux buddies came running after me, angrily asking the backs of the urinating men. There was a lot of hurried zipping going on and surprised shouts.
"Forgive me for this, Ajumma," I said, screwing my eyes tightly, before dropping down behind them and standing up.
Boom. Extension of the leg.
One of the tux guys crumpled silently. The other one noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to face me head on, throwing a flurry of undercuts that would make a boxer proud. Puffing, I blocked the majority of them, knowing if one landed, then it would do serious damage to my ribs.
I'd already shattered my ribs four times before.
Really didn't need to finish off that tally.
"Hey, you," I called out to the sweatshirt guy. "Why don't you catch this bonehead."
Spinning on a heel, I kicked the tux-wearing fiend right across his left breast, and caused him to crash backwards on top of his slighter looking pal. The placard spun into the air, and I flung out a hand to grab it. Greetings Chang Il Wook, it still said. I pulled back my sleeve, and glanced at my wristwatch. 1726.
Let's hope Wookie got through security, okay.
A/N: I'm going to keep the chapters short, but updates frequent.