Killer

Mysterious Girl, Deceived.

New York City, New York

A rifle hangs in the window.  My eye stares down the scope as I wait for my target to appear.  I had been sitting in this room for hours.  Although being a hunter, of sorts, usually went without thanks. My job was much more thankless.  Sure, you get paid really well.  But there were also long periods of time alone.  Saturday nights spent breaking into empty hotel rooms and waiting.  Tonight was a corrupt politician.  But he wasn't a human, not anymore.  Every creature of hell had become more brazen.  And they were making their way into the normal world's hierarchy.  This one was a shifter.  Oh they were crafty sons of bitches.  It didn't make sense why these creatures were doing what they were.  But it wasn't my job to figure that out.  Someone too afraid to make a change tells me where to point and I shoot. My target finally appeared.  My rifle cocked as I aimed my mark.  A silver bullet right in the chest would take care of him.  Playing Senator, how cute.  The reaches of those things that go bump in the night were growing.  Which meant I was needed more than ever.  I lined my shot through the cross hairs of the scope.  Oblivious son of a bitch didn't stand a chance. The trigger pulled.  In a moment the bullet punctured their chest.  A loud scream, heard from my room on the tenth floor, resonated through the night air.  I took my gun apart as sirens started to echo through the night air.  I placed each piece in my case.  A figure appeared behind me.

"Still killing in the name of good?" a British voice asked.

"Yup, what do you want Crowley?" I asked.

"Just visiting."

"It's been peaceful without your little visits."

"That hurts."

"Oh? I didn't know you had feelings."

"You're always so short with me."

"Maybe that's because I really don't want to see you.  Plus, I need to get going."

"This life doesn't suit you.  If you-" he began.

"No."

"But-"

"My answer is, and always will be, no."

"That's a chat for another day.  I have work for you."

"I'm already booked full."

"Right, that's why I took the liberty of disposing of the dispatcher of your next job."

He looked pleased with himself.  That smirk, that cocky way he held himself.  King of hell, my ass.  How bad could hell really be if this guy was king?  I pulled a knife from its place on the left side of my waist.  It twirled in my hand as I caught the hilt and pointed it toward him.  His eyes admired the blade before stepping back a single step.

"You know what this is then?" I grinned.

"Where did you get that?"

"Oh, this? Payment for one of my last jobs. From the man you had dispatched.  A dear friend of mine. So don't think I won't drive this blade straight through you and-"

"I'm paying, let's say, triple what you got paid for this job," he returned the fading grin on my face.

"That is a lot of money.  Must be a big job.  What the hell do you want me to do?"

"Simple.  I have a man with a lot of potential, but a certain companion of his is holding him back."

"You're paying that much for something that easy?  Who is it?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Everything is here," he extended his hand with an envelope between his fingers.

I took the envelope from his hand and tore into it.  It had a location and a time.  There was a description of the man, but it was pretty vague, but I didnt have time to fully read it.  But it seemed vague enough that anyone could fit that description.  Just from what I read at least. I tried to protest, but when I looked up from the paper he was gone.  Footsteps moved through the hallway.  They were uniform, in near perfect sync with each other.  Someone probably saw something from the window I had been perched in.  The knife returned to its holster on my side.  I picked up the case on the ground.  My head turned as a voice boomed from the other side of the door.  Rapid knocking followed as I sighed.  No other way to leave.  Just before the door burst open I was gone from the room.  No trace of my presence was left when the door burst open.  I was outside by my bike.  More sirens swarmed the hotel which was now blocks away.   I attached the case to the custom holder I built for my bike.  My hand tied my hair back before sliding my helmet over my head.  Of course this wasn't my ideal form of transportation.  I once saw this mint condition 1973 Dodge Charger.  She was beautiful.  Not practical for city work.  A bike was much more maneuverable, much more practical for losing anyone following me.  Maybe one day.  My leg swung over the seat as I hit the kickstand with my foot.  My destination was in western Pennsylvania. But I'd be able to make it in time.  I had sixteen hours to arrive.  And I had made it farther in less time. The engine started as I took off down the alley I had been parked in.  It was well known, especially to me, that you couldn't trust Crowley further than you could throw him.  But I had my own ties to him that kept my threats of killing him to idle ones.  But that was a story for another day.
   
   
Hours ago the scenery had changed from the concrete jungle of New York.  Now I was surrounded by farmland on an empty road in Pennsylvania.  I pulled off at a gas station in a very small town.  A few businesses and houses speckled the road that brought me into the slightly more populated center.  I hopped off my bike.  A wave of fresh air hit my face when I removed my helmet.  I took a deep breath as the cool night air danced across my face.  It felt nice.  I headed inside, used the rest room, grabbed a drink and a snack.  I got to the front and paid for my things.  My tank was low on gas so I threw a little extra down for gas.  The clerk thanked me as I walked out of the shop.  I started filling up my tank. Another car pulled up, but I paid it no mind at first.  Two male voices spoke while exiting the car.  One headed inside while the other started to fill the gas tank.  I put the nozzle back when  the flow of gas stopped. My hand guided the nozzle back to its place.  The swishing of the cheap plastic bag continued until I found the apple I had bought.  I breathed on it and shined it up on my sleeve.  I knew this wasn't a good way to wash it.  But a gas station apple was the least of my worries.  Worse things could come for me. Crunch.  That satisfying sound of biting into an apple resonated in the otherwise silent night.  Only to be followed by words I didn't know at the time would come from a very familiar voice.