The Assassin & The Mercenary

Chapter 13

It was a 20 minute drive to the small theatre that sat as the cover up for the facility where I was supposed to meet Major Dimitri Pettigrew actually was. The supposed mastermind behind several of the army's most vital weapons kept in the arsenal. 20 minutes of very tense glances in the rearview while inhaling the sour fumes of the cigar he chose to light right after we drove off.

"Well, this is it ma'am. Jus take your stuff with you," my very friendly driver spoke through the heavy smoke nestled around him "I don't have the time to take your mutt nor your bags with me. So you'll just have to take them with you till they decide to let you on base."

"Thank you, sir" I said through my clenched teeth as I opened my door to step out "I appreciate you so generously taking the time out of what I'm sure is a very busy day to help me out."

He grunts as I round the car to pull open the back door so Moxis can hop out. I slam my door behind me as her paws touch the ground. I reach in to pull the bag out from the far side of the back seat when I hear a low growl come from behind me. I straighten up at the sound, my one bag in hand, and turn around to see Moxis growling at the driver as he not so subtly seemed to be leering at my ass.

He seemed to back down when I caught him staring but not before sneering at my sweet little Moxis.

I don't like the way he was looking at you. Her voice ricochets in my head, startling me as I haven't heard it in quite some time.

I slammed the door behind me and turned to walk away from the car, listening for the sounds that signal my rides departure. "Life is life and I can't do anything about it. If I cared about mens behaviour towards me then I would have been out of fucks to give eons ago."

It's about a 10 minute walk down one of the busier streets from where we were dropped off until we reach our destination. Moxis and I walk side by side, her intermittent growling at passerby the only sound between the two of us.

My neck is getting sore by the time we reach the entrance, my head always on a swivel due to the nature of the city I grew up in. 

Time may change, but men do not.

I think you could be a good spy, you know? Moxis' voice scattered my thoughts as we approached the box office of the theatre we were directed to.

"What?" I mutter under my breath, trying not to appear as mad by any passerby who might overhear as we wait for an employee to assist us "Where is this coming from?"

The way you take in your surroundings as we walk. Subtly but startling accurate nonetheless. They are the makings of a good spy. Moxis continues.

I sigh as I spot someone approaching the window, hopefully for us. "Those aren't the makings of a good spy Moxis, but of the average woman."

Her confused-seeming expression was cut short as a man, similar in stature to Douglas Fairbanks while simultaneously resembling the aesthetic of a toad, approached the window of the box office. "We're closed. Showings not until 8 tonight so you have time to spare before we open."

He starts to shut the shutters over the window before I interrupt him "Wait! Sir, hold on. I have a purpose here I swear."

He audibly sighs in annoyance "What purpose could you possibly have here?"

"71822. 18725362618. 15182424." I rush through the set of numbers required of me in order to gain entry.

The man behind the window freezes, before pressing a button under the desk inside, setting off a barely audible buzzer as a set of seemingly condemned doors slowly swing open, tempting my entry.