Capture Me

Struggling in Every Sense

The click and clacking of stilettos were no alien in this part of town—in this time.

The wet kiss of the red stamp on the back of the hand from the tough looking men at the entrance, served as a hard earned pass through a narrow passage, where feeling good was the only option.

Inhale.

Soft thumps of the music from the inside could be heard from where she was.

Exhale.

Eyes trained ahead, her long, black-polished nails pushed the double doors of the club. Kohl-lined, chocolate-hued orbs scanned the room with purpose. Her nerves were vibrating and tethering on the edge, but she clung to the reason why she came to a place like this...again.

She swore to never repeat on setting foot to these kinds of establishments, but here she was standing in a club for the secondth time in her life. It was just like this first time she stepped in a bar, loud, smelled like every type of alcohol known to man, and writhing bodies. The only difference was that, that day her world collapsed.

Her clammy hands smoothed the little dress that took all of her guts to wear. Her clothe was so black that no light bounced on. It hugged her body in the most intimate way, add the fact that the neckline plunged so low it threatened to expose her whole torso while the hemline of the skirt was just below her butt. She felt naked and unprotected, but she chose this and she'll finish it.

Black, straight, silky hair swayed as her pale legs took her farther into the club.

She scanned the area once more, the room was dim with dancing strobe lights that seemed to flirt with everyone inside the premise. People who wore a much skimpier clothing passed her—they either laughed or jumped with the beat of the loud music but overall held the epitome of fun. The thing in the middle—stage she assumed—was packed with pulsing bodies that moved with the upbeat song.

Using her hand as a shield from the assaults of the blinking lights, she tried to find the person she was looking for and luck was on side when her eyes landed on him.

The one she was meant to kill.

She walked towards him, all the while she battled with her thoughts. He's a bad man and you're doing the world a bit of a favor by taking him out, but what if he has kids—family?

He didn't think about that when he unblinkingly shot a father, holding his daughter's hand, in the head.

Wouldn't it not make you any different from him?

Probably, but this will be a retaliation and money at the same time. Two birds in one stone—or more like bullet.

Her eyes gravitated to the gun strapped to the waist of one of the men, who was acting casually, standing not far from her target. Another carrying an uzi blatantly showing it off.

She thought of the vile things that man did to convince herself to continue as her mind slightly caved into aborting the operation.

"Don't get cold feet now, Young Blood." Hissed the voice in her com.

She pressed the small earpiece lightly into her ear to secure it. Nobody's getting cold feet tonight, sir.

She extricated a hand that magically attached to her bum and glared the college boy who only grinned back at her in drunkenness.

Two years of staying in the base doing nothing but paper works, and shooting and training with unmoving objects had finally paid off. She got her first field work.