The Assassin's Daughter

The Mission

Lolita

Cody Astor. Ex-drug dealer and current threat to society. The only cure for this disease is death. Death by force.

Identification Profile

Name: Cody James Astor

Age: 21

Height: 5.9 feet

Hair colour: Black

Eye colour: Blue

Skin colour: Olive

This is what the card I was handed said, along with a few pages of extra information and things that I would need to know.

“Find him, kill him, don’t leave a trace.” Was all I was told before I exited the stingy hotel room.

I got many stares as my pumps clicked along the dark footpath. I knew I looked like a prostitute, it was a cover though. I wore tight red shorts and a cropped white singlet with no bra. I had also slipped on my highest hooker heels to match my slutty outfit. My makeup was dark, especially around my eyes and my light brown hair was messily put back into a half-up do.

The reason why I was dressed like this was so that people wouldn’t suspect that something was up. If I were wearing a business suit with a pencil skirt in this side of town, someone would probably ask me what I was doing, or, God forbid, follow me. 

Assassins don’t have a headquarters. Well, some do, but not our company. Especially because being an assassin isn’t legal, we need to meet up in places like old motels with lax security or loud pubs where we can sit at a table and talk privately. It had worked perfectly for years and it was still smooth sailing.

I’m only 19, although I look younger. My father is the top assassin in the whole company and I’ve been trained my whole life to kill people strategically and without a hint of remorse. I knew no differently.

So when I was given my first job, to kill Cody Astor, I knew that it was the right time for me. The time for my life to change forever, to be christened into the family business. To make my first kill. 

It felt good knowing that I would be moving up and onward from my crappy job of snapping pictures of husbands having affairs and helping housewives find their children’s whereabouts late at night, because I was getting tired of the never ending pointless distress and lack of any serious action. It was like I was getting antsy, and my father had told me that I was bound to get my first job soon enough, and there it was, in a red folder with the words ‘Lolita Mason’ written on it in big, black, capital letters. Words couldn’t describe my mixture of nervousness and excitement.

When I got home, I unlocked the door and found my dad sitting on  my couch, watching T.V. 

“How did you get in here?” I asked. “The security is unbelievable.” 

“You need to lift your game, Lola, it didn’t even take me that long.” He said to me.

I sighed inwardly. I had spent so much time and money of getting everything up to my dad’s standards, I obviously still had so far to go.

“Dad, I got my job today.” I said brightly, hoping to chance the subject.

“I know.” Said my dad, he stood up from the couch with a smile and walked towards me with his arms outstretched. He embraced me in a war hug and I wrapped my arms around him. It was nice when he hugged me, even if it was only short-lived. He let go of me and held me by my shoulders, looking me up and down. “Nice cover.” 

Any normal father would look at what I was wearing and ground me for a year. Not my one. He was proud of my creativity and how I managed to look the part that I was acting, so he congratulated me. It was usual for me and I had grown accustomed to it over the years.