Ladies and gentlemen:
Flu season.
I was in a 104˚F fever on Saturday, I was retching on Sunday, I was blowing my nose like a trumpeter on Monday, and I've been coughing like a horse ever since. Why I didn't get more writing done during that period of time, well, beats me. :)
This is very overdue, so let's not waste time with introductions, eh?
~ ~ ~
Hired
December 10, 3013
9:56 P.M.
Head down, hood up, Millis paced through the airport halls.
He looked deceptively small with his physique hidden in the folds of his loose clothes. Small, but indistinguishable among the dark-haired, bronze-skinned people of Southern Excellia.
And for now, that was desirable.
Twenty meters behind him was Hyn, shuffling along in the cool manner of any high-class business man who knew how to handle himself professionally.
Twenty meters behind Hyn was Rea, appearing too young to be worth trouble.
Stereotypical had been and would be the name of their mission’s cloak until the three companions were back in ELI, safe and hidden in their realm of equals. But despite every effort made to keep quiet and inconspicuous, Millis still felt glances cast at his back, questioning his status and affairs.
Disguises.
Millis muttered a curse under his breath.
The equivalent of failures.
Evidently, the fools behind the masking orchestration had given no forethought to Rea’s attraction to the real world. When the sixteen year old girl had opened her suitcase to find she had received a pair of denim shorts, an explosively colored tank-top, and a collection of gaudy accessories, she had changed--immediately--and pranced around the hotel living room, chatting nonsensically in a British accent. Hyn eventually lost it and had knocked her to the ground, smudging black carpet filth on her new clothes.
Millis smirked unconsciously under his hood.
Central ELI had also seemingly forgotten that Hyn never enjoyed any part of a mission aside from the raw basics and focus of action. It was in his blood as a Rager. He was naturally agitated, bred for the high-concentration work of a mercenary, not for the clownish shenanigans of a spy.
And for that matter, so was Millis.
It was due to the dual nature of ELI that the getups had been made mandatory. While supposedly government funded and utilized, other antigovernment bodies frequently hired ELI’s trained assassins for their own uses, Millis and Hyn being no exception. The chances of being spotted by an Excellian security guard and identified as a local criminal were more likely than it would appear. One too many discovered assassins had given ELI a bad reputation, almost to the point of being shut down by the government.
They were taking no chances now.
No chances included hiding their specialized human weapons in the clothes of businessmen, commoners, and tourists. No chances included making their specialized human weapons into stereotypical brats.
Millis reached Terminal D1 and unslung his backpack in the departure lounge, taking a swift seat on a peeling leather chair. Forty-five seconds until he would be joined by Hyn. Ninety seconds till Rea. Millis dug into his pocket and pulled out a touch phone, glancing at the time. Four minutes until boarding began.
Hyn had sent him a text:
The next idiot who tries to pickpocket me will get it.
Millis raised his eyebrows and texted back,
In an airport? Good luck.
Tell Damion he can have my Anschutz 22 if I don’t make it.
A faint grin touched Millis’ lips.
Will do.
Another text popped up on his phone's screen a long moment later.
Shades, button-down polo, slacks, and dress shoes. All black colors. With backpack. Watch for him. He's been following me since the parking lot, and he's suddenly pulled ahead. I told Rea to stay fifteen meters off.
Millis instinctively and casually raised his head and cast a quick glance across the hall, his Hunter mind mechanically telling his conscious brain that there were fourteen people in the corridor, none of them Hyn’s stalker. A Southern Excellian woman giggled at a swarthy, attractive friend, and Millis watched them sashay off before turning back to his phone.
Hyn had sent another message.
He stopped. I think he wants us both.
More than likely. Get over here. Tell Rea to stay put, even if things get violent.
Roger that.
Hyn came into view a few moments later. His tie was loose around the collar, giving him a dressy, casual look, but at the rate he was walking, the natural, laid-back atmosphere delivered by his looks was replaced with determined single-mindedness so typical of Hyn. When he took another pair of steps, Millis saw why.
The man was right behind him.
And it wasn't hard to tell that he was moving with a purpose.
Despite the human pressure tracing his footsteps, Hyn took a seat in a relaxed manner, a seat directly behind Millis, and unfolded a newspaper.
The stranger sat down on Millis' right and turned straight to him. Millis could see out of the corner of his eye that the man had shoulder-length black hair pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a dark purple ribbon. A large nose fit his strong jaw. White teeth, bright eyes. Whoever this man was, he was no slob. Even the clothes he wore couldn’t conceal his good health.
For some reason, Millis thought he looked vaguely familiar...but he couldn’t place the man.
"Millis Rider, Hyn Reuler, I need an assassin."
Indifferently, Millis continued to type on his phone, filling in the necessary blanks of a report on Hassan's death so he could close the job and receive the money sum as soon as he reached Haven 1. Hyn flipped a crinkly page and replied apathetically, "So do the rest."
The man sighed.
Millis surmised it was from relief. Based off of his amateur persistence, the man had probably been second-guessing himself about his targets.
“So is it a deal?”
A deal?
Millis let out a noisy breath in scoffing. The man obviously had no experience with a mercenary field before.
“Details, sir. Details.”
“Er...right.” The man cleared his throat. “The wage is a two mil in total, so a million each--”
“In Excellian currency?” Hyn interrupted, “In cash?”
The black haired man raised his eyebrows. “Well...I was thinking you’d want it in Excellian cash, but if you’d rather do something else...”
“That’s fine,” Millis answered, giving his friend a pointed glare, “How many? And who?”
“Two. It’s politics, so I’m expecting you to not get caught and so is the rest of the world.”
Unabashed by Millis’ earlier unspoken rebuke, Hyn bumped the back of Millis’ head with his own skull and said in an undertone, “Ten bucks say it’s Consil Narcos.”
“You’ll be beyond ten dollar bills once you make the kill,” the man countered, “Far beyond ten dollars...”
He didn’t continue.
An awkward silence fell into the air.
“Wait...Consil...”
Understanding fell a few seconds later, and Millis tightened his eyebrows, shaking his head in amazement when realization dawned. Hyn whistled behind him, settled into his air of calm, and turned another page. “Really. Consil Narcos is the target?
Hah! You owe me ten, dude.”
“No.” Millis’ denial was flat, and the stranger chuckled.
“The job is already mapped. Every step is planned out. I have hands on the inside, and they will do their uttermost to ensure a smooth cover in case things go wrong. Not to be cocky, but this job is way overpaid. You’d be a fool to not take it.”
Pocketing his phone, Millis folded his arms across his chest and flopped back in his seat. Two minutes until boarding began; the man was intentionally cutting their time close.
Two-mil for Consil Narcos, pre-orchestrated.
It seemed so...easy.
Too easy.
Too impossible. The Consils and Dibanes of Excellia were strictly guarded. There was no way that the stranger could have found a way to break through the lines upon lines of defense, not unless if he was from inside, which would make sense. Only another Consil or Dibane would want to eliminate one of their own.
“What’s the catch?”
“There is no catch,” the man replied cooly, “Narcos and his wife Narcam. Dead without blood.”
“Just dead?”
“I’ll take care of the bodies,” the man agreed.
Millis closed his eyes in deep thought, allowing another sixty-seconds to slip away as he examined the prospects from every angle. A nudge against the back of his skull shook him from his thoughts, and he heard Hyn say, “I’m in if you’re in.”
Millis stood, facing the stranger, an accusatory glare on his face that masked the pleasure he felt to be hired so soon. “I want the plans, and if I don’t think it’s doable, you can find yourself another assassin to squander your life’s savings on.”
“Where do you want them?”
“In my hand. Now.”
As a flight attendant began to call out class fliers, the man shrugged on his backpack as he stood and walked into a store on the direct other side of the hall. With raised eyebrows and building confusion, Millis watched the man browse a sports magazine, then put the issue away. When he walked out of sight, a papery-yellow flap was poking out from behind the magazine.
Millis felt his slight grin return.
So maybe that idiot does know a thing after all...
“Recall Rea and board the plane, Hyn. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
For the sixteenth time during the past half-hour of the flight, Hyn ran his fingers slowly through his already rumpled, golden hair. There was mild exasperation on his face, but Millis wasn’t concerned. He had learned over the years that any and all frustration belonging to Hyn was for show alone.
The male never felt a loss; his greatest asset was adapting to new situations.
Hyn chewed on the end of his pen and then tapped at a section of the floor plans with it. “This is a seven second window.”
“You can’t get from a door to up the stairs in seven seconds?”
“If his measurements are right, I’d have to sprint this.”
“Oh, woe are you,” Millis droned, “You actually have to get off your lazy butt and work. Sounds horrifying.”
Hyn glared at his friend and muttered sarcastically, “Have
no idea how I’ll do it.”
Rea turned from her laptop, letting her intelligent eyes wander the array of paper spilled out in front of the three on their trays.
“I just can’t believe you two got hired
again.”
“Must just be our natural awesomeness,” Millis replied dryly before turning back to his intense study on the papers. Rea said something, undoubtedly a cutting remark, but his mind was already focused elsewhere.
It was impossible to assassinate a Consil or Dibane.
The four families lived in four separate mansions, fifteen minutes’ drive from Excellia’s capitol building, each house located due north, east, south, and west. As a general law, each family was required a bodyguard, and Millis knew that a straight-on attack at the bodyguard would have unknowable results. The teaching methods in ELI were the same methods used for the trained bodyguards, so Millis would practically be fighting an older, stronger, more experienced version of himself.
And some families had more than one protector.
Narcos, particularly, had four bodyguards, three males and one female.
Specifically, the papers said that Narcos lived in the South Manor. Every door was constantly locked, first by electronic handles, then by reinforced bolt. If the electronic handles were tampered with at any point in time, an alarm was sounded. If the windows were opened from the outside or shattered, an alarm was sounded. The main rooms were constantly monitored with surveillance cameras.
Narcos had four bodyguards, three males and one female.
It was impossible.
And yet...
Millis blinked the glaze out of his eyes and fixed his attention back on the papers. He skimmed the plans once, then twice, checked another time for any possible mistakes.
Somehow, that man had found a way in.
During a forecasted and particularly heavy storm two days from present date, the power would be put out in Central at exactly a quarter before six o’clock ante meridiem by paid electricians. All security precautions--the windows and doorknobs--would be eliminated by the outage, putting the bodyguards into action.
Nice to have that kind of money throw around, Millis mused darkly as he thought of his employer’s face.
At six o’clock, the first male bodyguard would finish his sweep of the exterior grounds and go inside, downstairs, to bed.
One eliminated.
The female guard would already be asleep and would stay asleep for another quarter hour until her turn for the exterior sweep came.
Two eliminated.
Two other guards, both male, would have been making routes on the main-floor with flashlights since five while the family slept upstairs. They had the morning shift, and, regardless of the outage, their paths were planned so that one was always in view of the elevator and stairs at all times. To get to the family, it was necessary to get past them, a task virtually impossible.
However, at eight-hundred and thirty seconds after six o’clock, the second male would be coming from the elevator towards the living room when the front doorbell would ring and a mailman would be asking for a signature before dropping off an empty package; the exchange was to last seven seconds at least, and consequently, the guards’ routes would be offset seven seconds.
The mailman would leave, the guard would continue past the front door, Millis and Hyn would enter and, from there, finish the job.
Seven seconds to get from the front door to the top floor; that would be their critical moment.
Upstairs, they would make the kills and escape, unnoticed, through the windows.
Millis leaned back into his seat and accepted a cold bottle of water from the snack cart that passed by; he didn’t realize how parched he was until the liquid was pouring down his throat. Downing the entire bottle in one long draft, Millis set the empty container on his chair and closed his eyes again, letting his thoughts wander.
Two million...
Who
was that joker anyway?
The man had been right; they
were overpaid.
The job was just too simple.
Millis felt his mind automatically turn over the possibilities and motives behind the work, but try as he could, he was left in the dark.
~ ~ ~
There you have it!
I have a lot of Author's Notes to come. :D
Write on!
Clove
