The Blood Assassin

New York

The mission directive was clear: meet Kevin Jacobston at the New York subway station, extract valuable CIA Intel from him, and then, once successful, stage an accident to divert any suspicions.

I had already memorized Kevin's features, committing them to memory as I prepared to immerse myself in the bustling subway crowd.

The New York subway system transformed into a maze of opportunities and also potential threats. I had to stay alert. I merged with the crowd of commuters, my senses sharpened as I scrutinized each face for the man from the hologram.

Minutes later, I spotted him. Kevin Jacobston, oblivious to the danger lurking, stood near the platform. Kevin was an older man, tall and bald with a few stubborn gray hairs clinging to the sides of his head. His face bore the marks of age, a mix of wisdom and weariness. His long, dark overcoat hung loosely on his frame, adding an extra layer of mystery. But his eyes betrayed him—darting nervously, always scanning, never settling.

My training kicked in as I approached casually, striking up a conversation like we were old acquaintances. "Kevin, long time no see," I said, masking the fact that I had never met him before.

Kevin was a turned CIA whistleblower carrying secrets that could potentially destabilize the American dollar. Some of the elites wanted to keep these secrets from being exposed to prevent foreign adversaries from using the Intel against the U.S. government. My mission was to determine how much Kevin knew, find out if he had shared the information with anyone else, and eliminate him for betraying and committing treason with U.S. classified secrets.

As the subway rumbled closer to the station, I ramped up the small talk. "Did you tell anyone else?" I asked hugging him briefly as Kevin discreetly handed me a briefcase. "Of course not," Kevin replied, flashing a tight smile. "You were the highest bidder."

"And how can I be sure you won't tell anyone else?" With the subway approaching, I aimed to extract as much information as possible before the next part of the plan—the "accident." My mind raced as I formulated a plan to make it appear as if Kevin's misfortune was nothing more than a tragic accident, leaving no trace of our clandestine meeting.

"You're just going to have to trust me on that," Kevin said, flashing me a grin before glancing down at his watch. His grin fading as he lowered his voice. "Look, I don't have much time, but there's something else you need to know," he added, in a more hushed tone, his expression growing serious as he scanned his surroundings nervously.

I didn't have time for his games—the train was coming, and I needed to make my move. "Well, what is it?" I asked, impatience slipping into my tone.

The speakers crackled to life, announcing, "The train will be arriving in ten seconds. Please step back from the platform."

He was hesitating, unsure whether to speak or not. Sweat trickled down his forehead. I clenched my fist, ready to throw him onto the tracks if necessary. We had been facing the tracks the whole time, but suddenly, Kevin turned to look me in the eyes. Spit it out already, I thought as the train drew near.

"Seven... six... five..." the automated system continued to announce.

Kevin continued to glance around nervously, hesitant to speak further. Was he stalling me? Did he know his final moments were near? Whatever he had to say, he would have to take it to his grave. I reached out and grabbed his arm, prepared to "accidentally" throw him onto the subway tracks which was only inches from us.

"Three...two...one..."

Kevin's voice dropped to a whisper as the train roared closer. "Izraliyah Crozzi."

My heart froze. That name—my birth name—echoed in my mind. No one had called me Izraliyah in years. How the hell did Kevin know it?

"...The train has arrived, please exit to your left."

My mind went blank. I couldn't speak, couldn't move. He had called me by a name that I had buried with my past.

"Izraliyah," he repeated, handing me a manila envelope from his coat pocket. "I'm supposed to give you this."

I gripped harder on his arm, my voice low and dangerous. "Who the hell are you? How do you know that name?"

"Everything you need to know is in that envelope."

Kevin started to walk away, but I held onto his arm. "Wait!" I shouted after him, still at a loss for words. I removed my earpiece and looked into his eyes. "Explain. What do you know? What is this?" I demanded. I hadn't used that name since the day my parents died—how did he know me? Did he know them?

Kevin glanced around before his eyes returned to me and the envelope. "Your suspicions are right. The answers you seek are inside. Follow the instructions. Trust no one."

In the midst of the train's noise and the routine chatter of commuters, secrets were whispered. Kevin maintained eye contact for a moment longer before slipping away into the bustling subway station, vanishing into the crowd. I stood frozen, the envelope heavy in my hand, watching him disappear as the throng of people bumped into me, oblivious to my presence.

What the hell just happened? I tried to wrap my brain around Kevin's words. "The train will be leaving in thirty seconds. Please stand clear of the doors," the automated system announced, snapping me out of my daze. I glanced down at the envelope, and a chill ran down my spine. A paranoid feeling washed over me—was I being watched? I scanned the subway platform, searching for anything suspicious, but nothing stood out. Great, I was becoming paranoid.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped the envelope into my pocket and refocused. Rocs was waiting for an update.

"Kija checking in," I said after putting the earpiece back in my ear.

"Go ahead," Rocs replied, his voice crisp in my earpiece.

"Package received."

"Confirming package received. And target status?"

I hesitated for just a moment. "Target still intact. Too many witnesses. Takedown rescheduled."

"Understood. Await further instructions."

I yanked out my earpiece, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Kevin should be dead. I should be on my way to the next mission, not rattled by some cryptic message about my past.

As I walked through the streets back to my car, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. Men in suits seemed to cast glances in my direction, and even random women and children appeared to be scrutinizing me. They all felt like potential spies, tracking my every move. Was I being tracked, or was this just paranoia setting in after what Kevin revealed?

Each step felt heavy as I reached my car and sank into the driver's seat, gripping the wheel tightly as my mind raced. Kevin knew something, something important. How did he know my birth name? What secrets were in that envelope? And why had he given them to me?

The city blurred past as I drove, barely paying attention to the roads. My thoughts kept circling back to that envelope now burning a hole in my pocket. I couldn't help but feel a rising sense of urgency and dread. Each red light felt like an eternity, forcing me to confront the questions I wasn't ready to answer.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, my head was spinning and I was mentally exhausted. I sat in the car for a moment, staring at the dashboard. Part of me didn't want to know what was inside that envelope. It felt like opening it would unravel everything I thought I knew.

But I couldn't let this go. Kevin had handed me a thread to pull, and now I had to see where it led.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my things, and headed inside.