Rain

Dum.

Dum, dum, dum.

Dum, dum, dum.

Dum, dum, dum.

Dum, dum.

As the piano chords reverberated powerfully through black cordless earbuds, Rain stepped in sync with the beats.

When I was, a young boy.

My father, took me into the city.

Her steps were strong, lengthy strides, her back straight and tall. She had a purpose and a plan.

To see a marching band.

Fire raged in Rain's obsidian eyes, a murderous glint reflecting on her strong complexion as she walked.

He said son when, you grow up, would you be, the savior of the broken?

Her mission was clear, the steps burned in her memory as if by an iron cast. Infiltrate. Stealth. Take out.

The beaten and the damned?

Just the sight of the wrought-iron fencing of the back gardens made Rain's lips curl, nose wrinkle in disgust, and her gait grew swift and ready.

He said, will you, defeat them? Your demons, and all the non-believers?

A simple kick up got the skilled girl over the fence, and she quickly crouched aside a maintenance shed for cover.

The plans that they have made?

A trained eye scouted the grounds. A strong leg pushed her off. A smart mind kept her stable as she jumped and landed noiselessly atop the shed, curls of vine poking fun at her worn down sneakers.

Because one day, I'll leave you. A phantom, to lead you in the summer.

Hedges separated symmetrical plots of rare flora in the gardens. A few gardeners trimmed bushes along the far side of the grounds, paying no mind to the assassin peering at their large-brimmed sun hats and weathered skin.

To join the black parade.

It only took one swift move to aim and fire the silenced crossbow. Fsst, fsst, fsst. The gardeners fell silently, not dead but not awake.

When I was! A young boy! My father! Took me into the city!

The strong chorus of the song hit Rain with a familiar punch as she lept gracefully, cat-like and agile over the top of fences and sheds en route to the back of the grand building.

To see a marching band!

Infiltrate. Rain had gone over this step countless times, reviewing statistics and open points. The kitchen window was always open at time of infiltration, just above the fence line where Rain sprinted.

He said son when! You grow up! Will you be! The saviour of the broken?! The beaten and the damned?!

Fsst. Fsst. Fsst. Six shots were fired. Six kitchen staff slumped to the floor in slumber.

Sometimes I get the feeling that she's watching over me.

The monarch had cameras everywhere. One misstep on Rain's part could mean death. Her extensive memorization of security in the building would be useful.

And other times I feel like I should go.

There was a slim, steep servant staircase off of the kitchen. No cameras patrolled that hall as Rain raced the steps thrice time, sneakers squeaking every few steps on the old oak.