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TW: Implied Suicide
As she walked out of the restaurant, Vietnam's humid air breezed straight into her, her loose dress fluttering. The combination of the humid weather and the hot pot she just had was not helping her cool down. Sweat precipitated from her face and a few droplets glided down to her breasts causing men and some women who dared to stare close enough blush. The sweat made her feel uncomfortably sticky and she did not want sweat stains showing especially on her beige dress. Deciding to cool down in the waters of the beach nearby, she flagged down a cab. She knew that he would find her there at the beach.
The warm and salty air met her nose the first as she stepped out of the cab. She pushed down her new rose gold Cartier sunglasses she had discreetly swiped from some unsuspecting redhead's handbag as she walked by.
Her small dimples were made prominent as a smile grew upon her face. Passersby saw that innocent smile and smiled back at the pretty girl. She was not smiling because she was at a beach, but because she knew she was going to end an unlucky idiot's life in the next few days.
Just the thought about the various scenarios she would have to go through to kill that person made her want to writhe in pleasure; death from being drowned in a boiling pot of water while the skin peel off like an orange, exposing the red, meaty muscle underneath, death from knives throned at their body that was super glued to a wall until they died slowly from exsanguination, death from shock due to the live surgery performed on them while being forced to witness their very own lungs and spleen being cut out, and much much more. All of that was just plan B if plan A failed (it almost never does). Her signature weapon always completed the job efficiently and cleanly.
The sun set and the shadows of trees grew longer and bigger as the sun met the Earth. She slid took off her dress and left her lean body naked to the world. She dipped her toes in the water and sighed in response to the coolness. The salty water washed away the sweat on her skin as she walked towards the deeper towards the vast ocean.
Finally in an area where she had to wade to stay afloat, she flipped on her back and spread herself out like a starfish. She stared up at the dark orange sky thinking about what would happen if she left the world right now.
Out of nowhere, a familiar rustic voice shouted for her in Russian somewhere on the beach.
On the beach the person who shouted spotted a female body in the water floating face down. He recognized the long, dark hair that floated peacefully on the water. He observed the lack movement. Another one of his girls who doesn't want this way of life anymore, he thought mournfully.
He rolled up his sleeves and waded towards his diamanté through the cold ocean water to collect the body. As he approached the unmoving body he cautiously looked around for any prying eyes, but when he moved his attention back to the problem, the body disappeared like a ghost. He suspected the currents took her. He huffed loudly and looked around one last time before he settled on swimming to land.
He began to swim towards the shore, but the strong waves pulled him under the dark water before he could even come close to land, disappearing in the dark, cold ocean. Around ten seconds under, he broke through to the surface, gasping for air left and right. While others could hold their breath seconds longer, he unfortunately couldn't.
He was a big boned man and was stronger than most, but because he had an addiction to smoking five to six cigarettes a day, it explained his weak lungs (and horrible breath).
He took his sweet time and weakly crawled on all fours to shore. He glanced up to see the supposedly dead girl holding a cigarette between her two fingers and sensually brought up the cancer stick to her plump, cherry red lips, smoked in the addicting nicotine of his Belomorkanal cigarettes. If Anna Wintour and Tumblr bloggers somehow passed by this aesthetically pleasing scene, the whole world would know her name and face by now, but that would mean she wouldn't have this fun occupation anymore.
She raised an amused eyebrow at his gasping form. His eyes burning and red from the unexpected assault from the ocean. Poor baby.
"Can you not do that?" he sighed exasperatedly. "Shit like that pisses me off!" he angrily shouted, his rich Russian accent becoming more prominent.
She stood up looking haughty and amused. Changing the subject he said, "I thought you tried to, you know," pausing, looking at her knowingly. "Again."
"Menstrual cycle. Hormones could not cooperate that day," she muttered out an excuse. The man saw right through the false statement and set a glare of disproval.
"You know," he started. "We had to make it come to an end before it interfered with your job," the man informed the grown woman, ignoring her excuse.
The woman had nothing to say, indicating that the conversation came to a close so he switched the topic. "We have-" he tried to continue, but after looking over to see if she was listening, he cut himself off after realizing that she was still naked. He had to admit, she was beautiful and anybody saying she isn't is blind or a psychopath. Her body was blessed with golden and unblemished skin, a lithe figure that could easily seduce anyone, and eyes that looked like VVS diamonds when light reflected off of the two orbs. She was like a lynx; she patiently stalked her prey, dimmed all of their senses and when they tripped up, it was game over.
"Oh, stop drooling like a perverted fifty-six year old virgin" she spoke up playfully. She looked over to him which made him stop his thoughts. He sent a fiery glare at her. She smiled as she observed the red beginning to blossom on his pale skin.
"Can you not be slow for once? I am forty-six, not fifty!" he exploded as he defended his age. He still had his hair intact, his widow's peak has not receded that far back yet. And so far, he had only spotted one strand of silver hair just last week (because he plucked all of the other silver strands a while ago). Who is she calling old?
"It was just a prank bro," she said mimicking a man's voice. She rolled her bluish-silver eyes at him. "What were you going to say old man?" she continued, flicking sand out from underneath her manicured nails.
He remembered what he had learned while in anger management and he calmed himself down before he could shoot that damn smile off of her face. "What I was going to say was that I have another job for you tonight." As he said this, he walked over to his black briefcase that laid flat in the white sand. Opening the case he retrieved a postcard with a picture of the Keangnam Hanoi landmark tower printed on it.
He waved the postcard indicating her to grab it, but he quickly pulled back before she could touch it. "No funny business this time. I need it quick and clean," he added, spoiling her mood.
She rudely grabbed the postcard from his hands. On the front, a picture immediately told her exactly where she the assignment was. She flipped over to the other side of the postcard where a code was printed down. She walked over to her car and pulled out a laptop where she typed in the code. She clicked the 'enter' button and a name and picture popped up. On the outside she looked stoic, but she was giddy with excitement on the inside as it was her first assignment in weeks.
AN
This story will be following the show and not the books. I allow constructive criticism. Please don't be afraid to point out inconsistencies, mistakes, plot holes, etc. no matter how big or small they are.
Everything you recognize from the show is not mine. Original characters are mine.
