Strings - A Winter Story

-1-

"Evil queens are just princesses who weren't saved"

NEW YORK CITY

She doesn't sleep. She never sleeps before a mission. Sleep allows room for mistakes, mistakes lead to death in this profession.

Autumn pulls out a disposable phone from her back pocket as she seats cross legged on the floor of her hotel room. It reads 23:56pm, she has two hours to kill.

The hotel room is only for a few hours. It cost her $15, she used her charm to get $5 off. It worked on the young man at reception. The room is as one would expect for the price. One single bed with thin, dingy sheets and a bathroom where damp and mould covers every available inch of space, a health hazard really. She is accustomed to run down hotels like this, but they play the role she needs them to play. They keep her under the radar.

Autumn sits on the fading grey carpet, in front of her all the equipment she would need for the mission. To her left lies her clothing. As it is a night mission, black is all she would wear; black jeans with a black leather jacket and black boots. Casual yet versatile.

To her right lies all the smaller equipment such as two hand grenades, one flash grenade, night vision goggles, two military grade knives and one loaded 9mm handgun, customised in matte black.

Directly in front of her lies the weapon that would do all the damage, a Barrett 50 caliber sniper rifle with dual scope, thermal vision, gripped stock, a suppressor and a quick release bison. This is the crown jewel of all rifles, a favourite of Autumns too. Beside it is a black bag, for travel purposes.

She decides to spend the next hour re-checking all the equipment and the guns. She likes the familiar feel of the 9mm in her hands, it is like a soother to a baby. It is like clockwork watching Autumn dissemble the rifle and place it in the bag, with it at it's full length it isn't far from Autumn's own height.

With one hour to go, she needs to prepare herself. She dons the clothes she has ready and laces up the boots. She slips one of the knives down the side of her right boot, for safe keeping.

She French braids her long brunette hair down the centre of her head finishing it with a simple plait. It needs to be out of the way for the mission. She scans the room as she places some leather gloves over her hands. She can't risk leaving anything behind, even the most irrelevant thing could lead back to her. She opens the door and peers out, checking both ways is like second nature to the professional. Satisfied, she leaves heading towards reception. She passes eleven rooms, most of them occupied with people wanting to get away from cameras and society in general. From one room she could hear a man yelling at a woman and the woman screaming back. The hotel wouldn't be in the most well kept community. Prostitution and poverty are rife.

She enters the reception area, much to the delight of the young man behind reception who has been thinking about her.

"Leaving so soon miss?" He cheerfully exclaims at Autumn hoping for a reply. However he would be disappointed as Autumn walks right by him as if he didn't exist. The smile quickly vanishes from his face as he watches one of the few woman in the place walk away.

Autumn knows he is probably a good guy but in this business, friends aren't an option.

When she opens the main doors, the cold November air is a welcome change from the stale odour of the hotel room.
She likes this time of year. It always reminds her of home, before everything hit the fan. The cold breeze is a comfort compared to the humidity and heat that graces it's presence frequently. The warmth of the day, not so much. She turns and heads south along the pavement.