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The city streets were crowded with pedestrians, tourists, office workers, students, but I kept my distance. I wasn’t out tonight for the sights, or for the people. 

Well. 

I was out for a specific person.

The sound of construction, typical during the day, lingered. The thick accents of the workers mixed with the sound of trucks and cement mixers. 

I scanned the crowd.

Leaning against a lamp post I flipped lazily though the paper. I didn’t read the words. I was more interested in the picture taped inside. Young woman, dark auburn hair, large hazel eyes. She had a piercing in her left cheek — a dimple piercing, I think — and one above her top lip. 

“She’ll be by the construction on 3rd West and 800 South, 6 P.M.” 

I didn’t ask for details.

A sharp prick to my side. My body stiffened. 

I didn’t move. If this was my target, best for them to think they were in control. Maybe they’ll move us somewhere secluded.

That’ll work fine for me.

I counted the seconds in my head.

“That’s a nice photo.” 

Female.

My peripheral caught a glimpse of auburn strands blowing softly in the wind. 

“Perhaps you’d like a better look?” I asked. 

She was taking too much time. Not a professional.

She inhaled sharply.

“Shut up.” She hissed, pushing her weapon in further. 

Ah. A shame. It’s blunt.

A weapon of convenience. My eyes scanned the construction sight. Probably a screwdriver.

I parted my arms slightly, letting her see I was unarmed. 

The street was too crowded. I didn’t worry about hurting anyone, but the chaos this could cause would make it… Messy.

I wrinkled my nose at that. Well. If that’s what she wants.

She pushed the weapon further into my side. “You’re going to walk into that alley.” She said, her voice quivering. “Nice and slow.”

I let her guide me, moving in the direction of the alleyway she’d indicated. The quiver in her voice told me everything I needed to know.

The alley was dark. Neon light shone at the other end casting blue shadows across the sidewalk. A single doorway stood recessed in the wall nearby. 

Not a bad location. Not ideal either.

I stopped.

I could sense her hesitation. She was supposed to be in control, but she hadn’t given me any more commands. She took a breath, ready to tell me to keep moving I was sure. 

I didn’t giver her a chance.

I spun, my right leg pivoting me away from the weapon, my left leg sweeping out. I grabbed her by her wrist, smacking her elbow with my other arm. 

Gasp.

Clang.

Her back hit the ground at the same time as the screwdriver. Her breath came out in a whoosh. 

In the split second that it took for her to fall I’d already grabbed my knife and rammed in straight into her side. Kidney shot. My fingers clamped down on her mouth, keeping the scream from sounding. 

I squeezed my fingers tighter, blocking her airflow. My eyes scanning the entry to the alley. Blood seeped from her wound, coating my gloved hand. 

She kicked feebly against the ground, her hand batting at my arm. 

Her eyes stared up at me, pleading. I counted slowly in my head as her eyes began to bulge. 

She stopped moving.

I was cleaning my knife when I saw it. Her hair had fallen, draped in a halo around her head. And in her ear was a small earbud.

I frown down at the body, uncertainty gnawing at me. 

My first instinct is to flee. 

But I need to know.

My blade clean, I grab the earbud and walk out of the alleyway. 

I’m halfway down the street by the time I put the earbud in. 

“What did you do?” The speaker’s a woman, though I can’t tell her age. I hesitate. She knows somehow that I survived. 

I don’t respond.

“You killed her.” Her voice cracks over the mic. 

I shouldn’t respond. 

“It was my job.” I say instead. 

“You’ll regret that.”

I don’t have a chance to reply. The line fills with static and I pull the earbud out of my ear. 

It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened. But for some reason, this time, my heart stutters, just for a second.