Lightning Cloud

The people who got off the Etihad flight in Dulles Airport one fine day included businessmen, tourists, three teachers, five college students and one ex-killer.

Looking at him at first glance, it was not possible to identify him as a man who used to kill people for money. He wore dark sunglasses to both hide his eyes- which were amber underneath the RayBan shades- and to shield them from the piercing light of the summer sun. He was dressed in a black polo hung loosely off his frame, along with faded blue jeans and brown moccasins. His skin was tanned golden beneath the carefully trimmed beard on his face that was neither too long or too short. His hands were clean and smelled of perfumed soap, as if to mask the blood that they had spilt.

At the customs counter, the man sitting on the other side of the desk repressed a shudder. The tall man in front of him with Mediterranean features intimidated him without even sparing him a glance. It was not because he gave the impression of aggression or even suppressed ferocity; it was the fear of the unknown that got to him. Having to deal with hundreds of people a day waiting to be allowed into Washington D.C, he could take a look and then classify a person into a certain group. A young man with a young woman wrapped in his arm would be a honeymooning couple. A similar couple, more advanced in age would be a retired couple looking to see the world. A family with hurried expressions and bags almost exceeding the weight limit: tourists. He could classify anyone... but not this man. His documents proclaimed him as a former garage owner from Japan, but somehow that did not fit him. He looked indifferent to the world, almost bored, waiting for the document verification to finish. Whoever he was, his documents were in perfect order. He asked the man, "What is the purpose of your trip here?"

He replied, with a ghost of a cold smile, "A little bit of business and pleasure both, I think."

He spoke with a very neutral accent, such that it was impossible to identify. If he had lived in Japan, if he had, it had either not rubbed off on him at all, or he was a professional at hiding his identity.

Since the man behind the booth could not think of anything else to ask him, and because he was getting more and more intimidated by the man with every passing second, he stamped his visa, which had a duration of four years, and let him pass. Thank goodness he would not have to deal with that man for at least four years. He was the United States' problem now.

He would come to remember his words a while after that.

The man's name on his passport was Thiago Hernandez, but of course that was not his real name. Neither did he own a garage, though the funny thing was, he was about to. He did not even have to lie when he had said that he had come here for a bit of business and pleasure. It was true. He has retired from his former profession, and was looking to enjoy the fruits of his hard work.

Thiago, as we shall refer to him, was tired. He had spent much of the week in transit. From Tokyo he had picked up an Eithad flight to Abu Dhabi in the U.A.E where he had one final bit of non-fatal business to wrap up. Right after that he had picked up another flight to bring him here, which was quite long. He had traveled in business class, of course, but still, it didn't prevent the jet lag from setting in.

He, through an agent of his who did not know his true identity, had purchased a house here. It was located in Fairfax, Virginia, a locality that was both large enough to hide him, and small enough to make him feel comfortable. The street in which it was located was flanked by tall trees and greenery, which made him feel very much at peace as he got off his taxi to proceed into his new home. He had been given the keys beforehand, and so it was with a sense of belonging that he  walked into his new home.

He was pleased to see that the agent had stocked his kitchen beforehand and bought a few items of furniture along with a bed. At least he would not sleep uncomfortably in his first night here.

After depositing his bags in his room, he decided to forego sleep and first scope out his new neighborhood. Partly because this was the first time he had actually come to an American suburb, but also due to old instincts, compelling him to identify areas from which potential threats could sneak in and attack. He walked out through the front door, and looked around. Nothing much to identify... he was examining a small path in the woods behind the house, when a voice startled him from behind. He spun around, restraining the urge to lash out.

Behind him was a teenage girl, blond hair, blue eyes, dimples and a slight tan, which looked store inflicted. She raised her eyebrows at his sudden response, but betrayed no other sign of emotion and said, "I'm sorry to have surprised you from behind, but you're not from around here, and I just saw you coming out from no#17 so... you're my new neighbor?"

He took a split second to understand what she said, unused to American accents as he was, and upon processing her words, smiled and replied, "Yes, I am new here. I have just been here about an hour, in fact." He stuck out his right hand and said, "I'm Thiago."

She responded in kind, shaking his hand and said, "I'm Michelle. Michelle Adams."

"Where are your parents? Are they home?" Thiago asked.

"No, my dad's a doctor, he comes home very late at night and leaves very early. He's free on Sundays though, you could meet him then. My mother has gone to visit a friend. She should be back in a couple of hours." Michelle answered.

"I see..." Thiago pondered on what to saw next. His conversations for the past decade had not consisted of much more than necessary details, such as the location of his target and the manner of death he was to deal to the unfortunate victim. Luckily, Michelle came to his rescue with the next question," Where have you come from? You don't look like you're from here."

Thiago smiled. For a brief moment, he thought of the actual place of his birth, a place he had left behind but could never forget about, a place which shot out strangling tendrils of terror into his heart and was the cause of many nightmares in which death, suffering and pain were the main elements. No, he would not horrify her with the truth. Instead, he lied," I come from Switzerland."

To play the part of a Swiss was easy; he was fluent in both French and German, and his air of neutrality had led many to point in that direction as a result. However, she did not look entirely convinced, so he added," It has been many years since I have been there, I had to keep traveling because of my work."

Michelle smiled and offered," Since you're new here and all, I'm sure my mom and dad would like to show you around. They like stuff like that, helping the neighborhood community and stuff..." She scowled slightly.

Thiago smiled in return and replied," That would be very nice of them. I would like that..." He faltered suddenly.

Michelle raised an eyebrow in concern and inquired," Are you okay mister?"

He put up a hand to reassure her and answered," Nothing, just that my jet lag has finally caught up to me. It seems that my mind is more used to strain than my body nowadays... With that, thank you Michelle, I hope we meet again soon."

She suppressed a small giggle and said," With parents like mine, I would expect to see me everyday being dragged along with them and sitting through a long and boring conversation with you."

Thiago understood the humor somewhat, allowing one last smile before bidding her adieu, and turning to walk towards his new home.

Many, many miles away, a hidden figure, cloaked in the shadow of a barely lit room, put an encrypted cellular to his ear and spoke into it," Operation Lightning Cloud is about to begin. Proceed to take the necessary steps." The figure smiled, the twist of his lips not visible under the darkness. He smiled at the destruction that he was about to bring to an unknowing world. He smiled at the fact that his revenge would soon begin to unfold. But most of all, he smiled at the knowledge that the man whom he hated most, had by a stroke of luck entered the country he was about to unleash devastation upon. Then the light dimmed further, and even his figure became enshrouded in a veil of black.