The Meet

How can you know the outcome of any mission until you are too far into the freaking mess to extract yourself?

You can't.  Oh, you can run all the scenarios possible on what could go wrong and the likely odds of it happening. But let's get real -- it's all just a crap shoot at times. So let the story begin...

I got the text on my mobile for the meeting. The sender indicated it would be an exchange of cash for a job. I would receive the details of the job with the packet.  Everything seemed to be typical of the work I'd completed in the past. I wasn't someone who made birthday and special occasion cakes, I was an assassin and a highly paid one.

The fact that I was a woman was an advantage. I would be overlooked in many circumstances and women trusted me as being one of them while men couldn't see past my external assets. I could stand out or I could blend in depending on the part I needed to play. 

It had been an overcast day and rain was forecasted. I donned a dark hat with a wide brim that cast a shadow over my eyes and a trenchcoat with sensible boots that would make it easy to make a quick exit if needed.  On my person, I had a pistol strapped to my thigh under my skirt, an umbrella that concealed a blade, and a piano wire bracelet that I'd used at least once in my work. 

I wore a brunette wig that flowed over my shoulders.  How many times had an attacker grabbed my hair only to find they had a handful of a wig and I was out of reach? It had happened often enough I considered it a defensive strategy.

The time had come for me to go.  I walked through a commercial area looking in shop windows. There were still people on the street heading home or out to one of the local restaurants. The exchange would take place near a bridge on a walkway along the river. I really hoped I wouldn't end up in the river.  I wasn't in the mood tonight. I really wanted to curl up in front of the television with a glass of wine and my cat.

As I made a left turn and headed towards the bridge, I glanced over my shoulder back the way I'd come to verify I didn't have a tail. Nothing caused me to pause and reevaluate my situation. My footsteps rhythmically resounded on the damp pavement.  The streetlights made isolated rings of false security as I descended the steps.

 I relied on my senses to alert me of danger, and it wasn't long before my spine began to tingle. I had company. I kept my pace. I needed my tail to feel comfortable enough to be daring so I could get the upper hand. 

A spray of bullets brought me to my knees. I survived. He wasn't as lucky.  Hallelujah.