Renegade (h.s.)

Mission: Two-Faced

V:

Creating and maintaining a double identity is an art form that takes years to perfect and I am a master of my craft.

Valentina is the mask I put on every morning to perform as a mild-mannered and mundane barista. Angel is the role I slip into every night like a second skin to carry out my true mission as a killer-for-hire.

Valentina Cordova is warm and friendly, honest and shy, innocent and thoughtful. Angel is cold and calculating, manipulative and seductive, deadly and remorseless.

Valentina is uncomfortable in her skin and Angel exudes desire.

Valentina enjoys folk music and Angel listens to classic rock. Valentina wears lace and Angel prefers leather. Valentina talks to her mother every day and Angel is motherless. Valentina hates violence and Angel craves it. Valentina cries when she has to kill a spider and Angel's conscience runs red with blood from her numerous victims. Valentina's soul is pure and unbridled and Angel doesn't have one.

The characters are perfect antithesis of each other.

And I perform them both beautifully.

Even on days like today when sunset blurs into the sunrise and I must balance the two identities simultaneously without any overlap.

I arrive back at my company-appointed loft in Brooklyn just as the sun begins to climb up the high-rises and paint the sky in cotton candy hues.

Exhausted and sweaty, I shed my worn leather coat, kick off my red stilettos, and take off the gun tucked into my skirt and knife strapped to my thigh. After disarming myself, I trek towards the bathroom even though I can barely stand up-right anymore due to the fact that I've been awake for over 24 hours. Still, I manage to stop at Bond's empty bowl to fill it with more dry food whenever the fat cat decides to climb back in through the fire escape.

This mission had taken much longer than I'd originally anticipated. Nikolai Ricci had managed to fly under the fed's radar for years for a reason.

The man was a paranoid conspiracy nut. It took weeks to get into his email and even longer to access his schedule. Ricci only surrounded himself with family or fully vetted bodyguards. He didn't date, never drank, and hardly ever left his house or office.

But, everyone has a weakness and men have the most of all.

And I always manage to discover them. Always.

Based on the intel our team eventually gathered —mainly that Ricci had an ex-wife he was still very much in love with if the private investigator he hired to follow her and the fact that all the men she dated mysteriously disappeared was any indication— I transformed my appearance and demeanor to perfectly mirror his ex-wife.

I donned a wig of untamed blonde hair and wore piercing blue contacts. My clothes were fashionable and revealing and I adorned myself in a disgusting amount of fake jewelry. I even added a beauty mark beneath my left eye and used contour to create a cleft in my chin like his ex's. Most importantly, I acted a little unhinged and a lot damsel in distress-y.

My play was perfect: the team had tracked his movements all night as I waited on standby at the entrance of the hotel where he had his first date with his ex and was the only place he frequented. Once his driver rounded the corner, I ran in front of the car as if I hadn't been paying attention and got just the reaction I wanted.

The driver was livid ­—he slammed on the brakes and quickly jumped out of the car to curse at me for my recklessness and for almost scratching his precious Rolls Royce.