Caliber

Because Dark Alleys Are Over-used

Chapter 1: Because Dark Alleys Are Over-Used

 

Chateau Dominique Rooftop

 It’s just like how they taught it: the sudden intake of breath, the lips spreading to a malicious leer, the steps that closed the distance in between us. It was all nothing but lustful pleasure in this small moment of intimacy. The aphrodisiac I slipped in her glass during our ‘coincidental’ and ‘fateful’ meeting a while back was undoubtedly working.

            She pushed my chest, causing my back to hit the wall purposefully. I stretched my lips into the well-rehearsed smirk. She cornered me, hands placed on either side of my head.

            “Now” I muttered under my breath.

            In less than a second, her body dropped. Warm, crimson liquid splattered on the outer layer of my shirt like small droplets of brilliant red paint under the moonlight. My lips tightened, my jaw became firm… I really loved this shirt.

            I pressed on the small device hidden in my ear and gingerly tip-toed over the slowly-numbing body. It would soon die of either too much blood loss or brain damage—probably both.

            “Hit successful” I breathed.

            A figure came out of the shadows, clutching on a silenced 66-caliber pistol with a still-smoking nozzle. The gun gleamed like a ray of sunshine in this dark, disdainful night. Ah, the irony…

            The other end fuzzed for a while, and I swear I could feel the grin from the other end.

            “You’re not done yet.”

            My eyes went wide. I was expecting to hear our Advisor’s voice on the line—not some rugged old man’s who obviously took one too many shots of vodka and smoked one too many cigars (A.K.A our boss). It’s a wonder why chicks dig him… OH, right! He’s a freakin’ powerful and influential billionaire… bimbos loved that! I almost chuckled at the thought of him, sitting on a throne, surrounded by scantily-clad----

            “The client offered double for a small request.” I was lost in thought I almost didn’t hear what he just said. A double for a small request… a total of almost a hundred thousand dollars… I gaped and almost drooled, but immediately regained my composure. Usually the first Assignment for two people hardly reached fifteen thousand.

            I cleared my throat and raised an eyebrow. “Alright, brilliant… and what’s this little ‘request’ of his?”

            “Over to the right, you’ll see a dumpster. There’s a knapsack inside.”

             I turned and saw it. Demitri, needless to say also hearing what I hear, put away his gun and strode towards the dumpster. In a moment he joined me and opened the bag. I went through it and found two pairs of rubber gloves, forensics equipment, and multiple small zip-locks. I reached to one, and read:

            ‘05483289-pili’

            Pili…? That sounded familiar… I struggled to remember my lessons back in the School. Then it struck me.

             Oh dear god, were they serious…? I reached into another plastic. It had the same set of numbers only this time it was labeled as ‘epidermis’… and that was enough to set the suspicion building up ever since we received the case file. They wanted me to specifically do things this time: with the additional theatrics of seducing and shit.

            “We… we’re framing someone?” My voice slightly shook. No way…

            The man at the other end, popularly known as the Director, chuckled hoarsely. “I see you paid attention in school, lad. You caught on quick.”

            Damn right motherfucker, I did… I thought, but said out loud, “Who… Who’re we framing?”

            “That information is strictly prohibited to you.”

            Fuck! This job is already absurd for a teenager’s resume—and this bitch isn’t making my already complicated life any easier. “And if I refuse?” I saw Demitri give me a weird look in my peripheral view.

            “Are you planning to get a moral Violation?” the Director gritted his teeth, irritation clearly coating his voice.

            I grimaced. “’course not, boss! Framing someone just ain’t part of my job description!”

            There was a small pause. Then a chuckle--which then started to build into horrendous fits of wild laughter in what you normal kids would describe as ‘LMAO’. In between hoarse merriment the Director spurt out, “To think you were about to defy direct order from authority… I think I’ve found my new favorite!”

            His words were soon drowned in the night air. I carried on with the request, with a smile forming in my lips. At least I made a good impression…

 

P.S.

            It was true, though… I wasn’t specifically trained to fake evidence—I specialized in close-ranged combat, confidence schemes, and befriending/seducing women and, you know, the rare homosexual.

P.P.S.

            I am not gay. Thanks.