Assassin Y

Chapter 1

I walk into my apartment silently, slowly. Can't have anyone knowing I'm here. This apartment has supposedly been abandoned for years, three to be exact. How do I know? My bosses cleaned it out and disposed of the previous owners a month before I moved in. With my job, I have to keep a low profile, so no opening the blinds which are shut tight at all times, and no noise if possible. I have no lamps and I have yet to turn on the overhead light so it probably wouldn't work anyway. The only source of light other than my window in my tiny apartment would be my computer which I only use for research.

I shut the door behind me noiselessly and tossed the keys haphazardly on the table beside me. The walls and door are soundproof just enough that I can throw my keys against a table and not be heard, but talking above a whisper somehow is easier for people to detect. I don't understand it, but I was heard talking to myself when I first started my job and was almost discovered. Thank you MEM (Mind Erasing Machine).

I look to the side and feel the corners of my mouth fold into a half-smile. A plain manila folder with Y printed in bold on the cover lay atop my desk. I, being unable to resist the urge, dropped into my rolling chair at such an angle to make it slide a few feet before I placed my hand firmly on my desk. I slid the chair back far enough that I could reach the manila folder and finally brought the chair to rest in front of my computer. I opened the folder briefly, only wide enough that I could view the name. The odds of my apartment having been bugged since last I checked, this morning, are slim to none, yet one can never be sure, especially in my line of work. I opened a browser on the computer using a program so ancient it was nearly impossible to detect the use of it: Internet Explorer. Slow as it is, the wealthy such as the man whose name was in the manila folder have all taken precautions to ensure that they are alerted anytime someone somewhere looks them up on a computer. Internet Explorer is undetectable by this software. All other software has been updated and made detectable.

After reading for several minutes about this man, I concluded that there was really only one way to finish the job and collect my reward, and though I despised it, it was the only way: I had to become his maid. 

I quickly hacked into his computer mainframe in charge of his house. If I could simply add myself to the staff list and input the required data, I'd be given access to almost any room in his mansion. This would give me access to exactly what I needed in order to get the job done. I slowly undid the braid which hung over my shoulder and began pulling my hair back into a bun, making sure to get all my hair neatly and firmly into place and out of my face. I pressed my hand below the monitor of my computer as I began this tedious task and the monitor went black.

I strode into the foyer of his mansion with confidence, enough that it appeared as though I truely belonged there but not so much that it looks as if I'm not actually a servant. I brushed off my black and white dress as I headed toward the kitchen; my "boss" prefers, no, demands his breakfast be served to him at 7:45 AM on the dot. This is my responsibility for the week, and I couldn't have asked for a better daily task than this. 

With this alone, the week I spent in the mansion passed incredibly fast.

My actual job that I focused on throughout that week: to kill Nathanial Devine. My plan was simple: I spent the first few days getting accustomed to the way of life. In those first days, I gathered as much information about him as I could. I learned key information such as the fact that all his meals are tasted before and after they are served to him. He is not allowed to touch any form of food unless it has been preapproved twice by the tastetesters, so poison was out. There were cameras in all the main halls and several rooms, not to mention the bugs placed everywhere. This made my job a little more difficult, but my position in the mansion thwarted his security system easily. I, against my desire but to my advantage, had somehow caught his attention, and soon, he had decided that we should get to know each other. I met him in his study, and his intentions were clear by the lighting, cooler of wine, probably aged to perfection as some would say, and the obviously-turned-off cameras. He was seated on a rather comfortable-looking loveseat as he toyed with the fire out of boredom. After the initial shock wore off, I quickly assumed the role of the innocent maid, which was probably the role he had been looking to see from me.

I knocked lightly on the door, and he, out of surprise, jumped up and made his way toward me. He had obviously been drinking as he couldn't help but stumbleover his feet a time or two. He was a rather entertaining sight, especially because I've only ever killed one drunk. I was charged for collateral damage seeing as how he wasn't my target, but it was worth the money to rid the world's of an incompetent slug such as him.

"Have a seat." He put his arm around my shoulder to flirt with me, but really I ended up using that to support him until I could gently throw him onto the cushioned seat. 

"So tell me about yourself," he casually requested. He was fairly intoxicated, so I figured I could tell him anything now which is what I did. But I had to make sure that no one was listening in first. I circled the room, checking for bugs but finding none.

"I see you deactivated the cameras. You must trust me an awful lot." I giggled girlishly.

"Yeah, my security guys don't like minding their own business! It's annoying! But I know how to shut everything off." He was the epitome of arrogance. I despise arrogance, but I kept a straight face as best as I could.

"Okay then. My name is Assassin Y and I've been sent here to kill you," I remarked. He remained calm, even laughed some.

"Kill me?!" He was shocked, but drunk so fear never occured to him. "You're not actually planning on killing me are you? How much are they paying you? I can no doubt," he paused to gesture towards his mansion but in the same uncoordinated manor as a drunk driver, "pay you triple what they're offering you."

"I'm flattered. I do get paid an awful large sum of money, along with other benefits such as a room over my head and food in my mouth." Again he gestured towards his mansion. That time, I joined him in jovial laughter, his at the ridiculousness of someone wanting him dead, mine was mostly directed at his behavior and his attitude. "Why would I want to kill you anyway? You've got such an,"I paused, trying to find words that fit, "interesting personality."

"Why thank you!" He replied. "You sure you're being honest with me?" He seemed slightly suspicious. I raised one eyebrow. "I mean come on, Assassin Y isn't a name! It's a title! Everyone has a name! What is yours, really this time!" He demanded casually. I laughed and stood up. I quickly walked over by the door and shut it. I carefully and silently made sure one of my silencers was fitted to my pistol in one of the concealed pockets under my apron. I stood up and quickly brushed by the room, thinking. He watched me but cared little about what I did or saw. I soon circled around and walked back to Mr. Devine, but this time I remained standing.

"I suppose someone should know." I pulled my wig off and let my brown hair fall down my back. He gasped and moved to stand up, but being intoxicated, he fell forward and lay at my feet. I pulled my pistol out and held it hovering above his head. "My name is Jolie, if you really care so much." He looked at me and for the first time that night, I saw fear in his eyes, but acceptance as well. He, unlike any of my other targets, did not beg for his life or try to bargain with me; he sat quietly and closed his eyes, the drunkness fading. You know, it's funny how men like him have this wall around them that works a lot like a mask, but when their life flashes before their eyes and they know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they're going to die right then and there, the mask disappears and you see who he really is inside. I almost feel pity for this man, this poor pathetic man. He has it all, but yet he has nothing. I turned my head away; I couldn't bear to watch as my finger pulled the trigger and the bullet entered his forehead.