The Heart Stoppers

DEIMOS

Four months had passed since the first official meeting of the Heart Stoppers. My birthday had flown by, along with Zack's. Our Halloween had been spent on patrol, and Thanksgiving was spent the usual way of the Special Projects boys gathering at my house for beer and a Friends marathon.

Now today was the first of December. The day Zack and I strike our first target. We had packed our bags last night and headed to North Dakota. Once we were here, Zack and I immediately had eyes on him: Thomas Robin. I didn't care to read much into him; an assigned kill is a kill. But Zack wanted to. He told me excitedly the whole drive to North Dakota about how this guy apparently had some sort of power that made him capable of inducing fear in a large population and how he used this to gain control over the whole city, forcing people into his gang to avenge his vendettas.

"Now I mean it when I say to stay at this computer. You're my lookout. And don't even second guess yelling in my ear if there's something that doesn't look right," I say as I put in my other earring with a listening device implanted in it.

"I don't really expect to find much suspicious with a strip club," he says sarcastically.

"Listen, I mean it. I need you for this," I lie. I know I could do this alone; it's no secret. But I want him to feel needed. Because eventually I will need him.

He nods, his curls, which have grown immensely over the past few months, shake with his motions. He's also had another growth spurt, shotten up past me now, but only by an inch or two. His arms weren't as lanky as they had been, the muscles having expanded over the time training with me. And there had been a time when he had even managed to get me pinned down.

Without a salutation, I leave our motel suite, getting into the classic Challenger I had driven over here. The dress I was wearing was pulled from the left side of my closet, me having arranged my clothes from provocative to conservative years ago. The right side has a very slim selection. I haven't worn this dress yet; it was given to me for my birthday in July. There is a department in Club that makes clothing for agents who go in the field that have protective measures. This specific dress is black, coming up high on my thigh. Three stripes of mesh covered my breast, bodice, and lower stomach, but it was mesh kevlar.

Once I arrive at the club, I remind myself that I've put my favorite pistol in the metal box in my abdomen just in case. But I've got the syringe of heart stopper taped to the inside of my thigh. This was a basic mission for me; Rocky had never been a fan of this kind of kill, always claimed I was worth more than being able to seduce a man then slitting his throat. But it had always been my most effective way of killing.

As I saunter into the raving club, I spot him instantly. He's in a VIP section with five girls all crowding around him. All of their dresses are revealing and desperate, but I radiate confidence in mine. Many of the girls even look uncomfortable and self conscious. And I realize I can't remember a time when I have ever felt that way.

I move with power over to the gated area, only having to lock eyes with the guards before they let me in. Robin immediately eyes me up and down as I lean on the couch across from him.

"Hayden, I'm really grossed out," Zack speaks in my ear over the channel.

I snatch a flute of champagne as a girl walks by with a tray. As I bring it up to my lips, I whisper back. "Shut the fuck up. I'm trying to make this quick."

A smirk grows on my lips as I strut over to Robin, the girls surrounding him seeming to get the memo that I'm the one he's going to take home as they move away a few inches.

"And who might you be?" he asks as I lean over him to put one hand on the back of the sofa he's casual sitting on, my lips near his ear.

"Mmm, does it really matter? I think we just need to go somewhere more...private," I whisper seductively in his ear before placing a kiss below it.

Robin was nowhere near an attractive man. He was older and balding, wrinkles littered his forehead, and his old brown eyes had been stained an ugly yellow.

"You are an enchantress," he hums in my ear before taking my hand and leading me away from the gated area we're in.

We move quickly through the sweaty bodies, me having put down the champagne flute on a passing tray. As soon as he leads me around a corner, I realize he's taking me to the bathroom.

"Zack, do you have eyes in the bathrooms?" I whisper rapidly, quiet enough that Robin won't be able to hear over the thumping music.

"Let me check," his voice appears again.

I wait a moment as the balding man pushes me against the wall and places his mouth on my neck, his fingers digging into the areas of mesh on my dress.

"I've got them in the girls," Zack is in my ear again.

"God, you're so hot," I lie through my teeth to Robin, taking his shoulders and shoving him toward the girls bathroom.

"Mmm, you are feisty," he comments, grabbing my hips and placing me up on the counter top with the sinks.

I don't say anything as I trail my hand down his chest and onto my leg. I draw it up my leg to the inside of my thigh to grab the syringe.

"Oh, you're a real dirty one too, aren't ya?" he gapes at me as I remove the tape from the syringe and suddenly jab it into his neck.

The look of horror crosses his face as he realizes what I've done as I finish injecting the serum into his jugular. It happens immediately that he hits the floor. I pull out the syringe, capping it and brush out my dress before waltzing out of the bathroom. Slipping the syringe into my bra, I move swiftly through the crowded club, avoiding as much contact with anyone as possible.

"Delete all the footage from tonight, Zack," I say to him, probably looking derranged and as if I'm talking to myself.

"It's done," he says in my ear after a moment.

I've almost made it to the door when I hear a, "Miss," from behind me. I roll my eyes, slowly and dreadfully turning around.

"Mr. Robin has all his inamoratas take a card..." a security guard says, handing me a small business card "...in case they get...lonely."

I decline the paper, shoving it back to him, "I'm not looking to be associated with scum like him."

The guard raises his eyebrows but says nothing else, allowing me safe passage out of the club and back to the motel.

"Alright, Zack," I say as I enter our room, him turning around in the computer chair to face me. "That's one down. And four to go."

We share a look of satisfaction before Tigger growls and swats at his face.