When we stopped by a gas station, the sky had already darkened, and an orange crescent moon was peeking through the clouds. I hopped off the still rumbling bike, and patted my freezing cheeks. I must have been as red as a tomato.

As she slid off the helmet, a part of me hoped her hair would come out as a tangled mess, just for a moment of imperfection. But instead, her golden strands bounced back slightly more wavy, not a single frizzy hair in sight. Annoying. 

“Did you get your license yesterday? You drive like shit,” I sneered, running fingers through my wig, adjusting the slightly crooked wig cap.

“Bold to assume I have one,” she smiled. I couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not.

I swiftly glanced around the lonely gas station. We were surrounded by nothing but even a lonelier roadway. And complete darkness. “Where are we exactly? I need to get back to the city,” I said.

“What's the rush, Soo-jin?”

I sighed, exhausted. Talking to her was still as productive as chatting with a wall. “I need to piss,” I said and marched away, leaving her with a gas pump in her hands. 

I had a sneaking suspicion she was going to drive off without me. 

The gas station was empty, not a single soul besides me and a lady at the cash register who was yet to even acknowledge my existence. Even the security camera didn’t seem to notice me. It hung in the corner, its lens pointed a bit too high and just off-center enough to capture only half of the room. 

The place was also tiny, but somehow reeked of the unventilated stuffy air only large unkempt super markets carried. Maybe because it had more brands of booze and smoked sausages rather than vehicle essentials. And not a single phone charger in sight.   

“Excuse me, do you sell phone chargers?” I asked the cashier. She looked both nineteen and forty at the same time, her short perm making her head oddly egg-shaped.

"No," she replied, sharp and cold, without lifting her eyes from the flashy magazine in her hands.

“What about power banks?”

"No." 

"Listen, I just need to charge my phone. That’s it. I’ll pay."

She met my gaze with a furious sigh. “This is a gas station, not a kontsert po zajavkam. You’re paying for the gas or what?” 

“Alrighty then,” an annoyed chuckle escaped my lips. I was about to turn away when a corner of a Zphone caught my eye. It laid peacefully right next to the cash register, its flip case decorated with tiny yellow and black gemstones and a ton of cartoony stickers. It was an older model, but I was pretty sure the battery was still compatible with my phone.

"You’re right. This is a gas station,” I said softly, my voice as sweet as honey, “I'll take one Smirnoff. The smaller one." I pointed to the bottle at the furthest shelf on the left.

As soon as she stood up and turned her back, I leaned forwards, and snatched her phone, blocking the minimal camera’s view with my body.

"200 rubles."

"You know what? I’ve had quite a day. I'll take one more bottle,” I briefly paused reading all the labels at the top shelf, “a bottle of Sveta’s Kiss."

While the lady threw another sighing fit and turned towards the shelves, I quickly swapped the batteries. They clicked into place with ease. A gleeful smile briefly painted my face as I slid the glittery phone back to its spot and stood still, my arms crossed as if nothing happened.

After paying, I headed towards the exit. To my surprise, the weirdo in the fur coat was still outside, leaning against the Ducati, phone pressed to her ear.

Before she could spot me, I quickly turned around and headed towards the back exit.

The chilly night air hit me like a slap, seeping into my veins through the rips in my jeans. I stepped out into a small vacant parking lot, surrounded by the shades of black and the crescent moon, now shining brighter than the weary lamp behind me.

The vodka bottles clinked softly as I tossed them into a half-full dumpster. As if summoned by the clinks, two crows emerged from the darkness. One of them landed right into the trash pile, then cawed loudly disappointed by the find.

Rubbing my hands together, trying to keep warm, I plopped on a nearby bench. It was decorated with an overflowing cigarette butt jar and a sparkly lighter with a weary leopard sticker on top. The cashier lady surely had a peculiar taste. 

The crows kept digging through the trash, throwing empty plastic packages and coffee cups onto the ground one by one. I watched them with an empty gaze, holding my bag securely, like it was a newborn.

I should have been thinking about my mission, but my mind kept drifting back to that weirdo. She was spying on me, that was a fact. But for how long? And was she as filthy rich as she seemed to be, or was it all a farce? Her attitude certainly screamed spoiled.

“She’s not my problem,” I muttered under my breath as I took out the phone. I was a few clicks away from finding out what really mattered. My mission.

Even with all the answers at my fingertips, I caught my gaze wandering to the lighter, its black and yellow gemstones glistering invitingly. There was nothing I wanted more than to press the soft filter in between my lips. To inhale the warm, smooth smoke, and let it melt all of my worries and bodily aches away.

My eyes alert with the sudden realization, I froze for a second and then swiftly dug into my bag. At the very bottom of it, a corner of Marlboro red I accidentally bought earlier today scratched my dry, cracked skin.

I held the pack firmly, feeling its smooth, plasticky surface. It took me seven years to quit smoking. Seven years of nicotine patches, packs and packs of chewing gum, and over a dozen failed attempts. I'd be an idiot if I ruined the streak.

A loud caw made me flinch. I let go of the box and shook my head slightly, as if trying to get rid of the devious craving. I had work to do.

But before that, I had a tad more urgent task to complete. I swapped the SIM cards and called my mom.

She picked up instantly. "Why haven't you called me? Haven't you missed me?" she said in a somber tone that always made my heart ache. 

"I'm sorry. I missed you. I've been really busy with my studies. How are you?”

"I was so worried. Don't you do this to me!

"I'm really sorry, mom," I repeated. I didn’t even notice when I clutched the Marlboro pack again. It was oddly comforting.

A lengthy sigh came from the other end of the line. "Oh, darling. You’re gonna put me in my grave. Anyways, how's Paris?"

"It's great," I said looking directly at the dumpster, where the two crows were now fighting over a piece of what looked like a moldy dumpling, "the food is fantastic, the people are friendly, and I can even see the edge of the Eiffel Tower right through my window. It's gorgeous."

"Oh my. I'm so glad to hear it," she said and paused for a minute, pans rattling in the background. She must have been making breakfast, getting ready to fry an egg, or boil some rice, add some kimchi… I felt my mouth watering. "You know, Jung-su called me yesterday. He came over for lunch and then fixed the tap. Remember the leaky tap that would drive me insane?" 

"Mom, I told you, we broke up."

"I know, I know, darling. And he was wrong for doing all of those things. But he's a very handy boy, and handsome too. And you're not getting any younger."

"Mom—"

"At the end of hardship comes happiness, darling. You should call him. I told him you'd call him."

"Okay, mom. Better tell me, how have you been? How's your leg, how's work?"

Just a few minutes into our call, a dark Audi with tinted windows stopped right in front of me, electronic music blasting so loudly, I felt the vibrations run through my body.

"What's going on?" mom asked.

"Nothing, just some youngsters partying tonight," I shouted into the phone, and gave the driver a furious look. 

He didn't get the hint. The window rolled down, and a bald, bloated, middle aged face peeked out. "Hey, there," he said, lowering one hand out, gesturing to the ground. He said something else, but his words got swallowed by the booming music.

"Mom, sorry, I'll call you back, something came up, okay?" I said softly before hanging up the phone, then faced the driver. "What do you want?" I snapped.

"I said, you lost something," he repeated, the volume now low enough to hear his shrill, annoying tone.

"What?"

"Your smile," he burst out laughing at his own ingenuity. 

I clenched the cigarette pack tightly, a spark of fury flickering in my guts.

"C'mon babe, don't be mad, let's go for a ride. I bet I can put a smile on that face," he said looking me up and down. "If you know what I mean.” He then whistled at me, his grin way too wide, way too confident.

Ignoring him, I buried my eyes in the phone, pretending to type. This story was as old as time: he’ll try chatting me up, I won’t respond. Then he’ll call me an ugly bitch, and he'll drive away, cursing. The end.

Then, finally, I’ll be able to switch the SIM cards and find out whether she—

"Here you are," she said, appearing from the corner of the gas station, as if my thoughts had materialized right in front of me. "You know this guy?" 

He whistled again, so deafeningly, even the crows got annoyed, cawing like crazy while retreating into the darkness.

"No. Ignore him," I said. 

She didn’t listen to me. Obviously. Instead, she marched straight to the car, the guy eating her up with his ravenous stare the entire way. Nearly drooling. With one hand on the Audi’s roof, she bent over, shoving her tits right into his face, flaunting her tight, skimpy dress. 

I guess, sometimes you can judge a book by its cover.

While they chatted away, I quickly slid the second SIM card into the phone. I was a few passwords away from finding out whether she was bluffing or not. Whether the chief was my hero or my torturer.

I held my breath as I typed in the codes. A rush of panic mixed with excitement squeezed my throat as I saw one message flash the screen. It was from the chief. I bit my lip.

"Did you hear that, zaika?" she said loudly, nearly yelling, facing me. "He says he wants to take us for a ride. Then have a threesome, maybe?"

I gave her a pissed stare, wrinkling my nose in disgust. Who was she calling a bunny when she herself was wiggling her tail at the first guy she met, like some bitch in heat.

"What do you say, girls? Just got this bad boy tuned," he said, finally lifting his eyes from her tits, winking at me as he caressed the car doors in a circular motion with his hand dangling out of the window.

I was about to head back indoors and read the chief’s message in peace, but her laugh startled me. It came unexpectedly, not soft nor sweet, no—this laugh had teeth. It bit through the night with a mocking undertone, disrupting every bit of normalcy that was left. 

"Bad boy?" she said, her voice suddenly shifted, much lower, discourteous. "Is that how you flaunt your tiny dick?”

I was already in shock, watching her switch like some maniac, but nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

A deafening screech suddenly pierced the air. I slid my butt to the edge of the bench to get a better view. I had to blink a few times, just to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. She was dragging a sharp blade across the car’s hood, slow and deliberate, making the most excruciating sound I’d ever heard.

"The fuck, you’re out of your mind??” The guy’s voice cracked in disbelief. He was still inside, frozen in place.

She laughed again. Laughed as if everyone but her were insignificant. Laughed as if we didn't have the right to breathe the same air.

And I truly felt that, as I sat unmoving, unsure what to do next. 

“What? Did you really think you were good enough to even think about me?” she said, running the blade along the side of his car now, carving a jagged line into the forest green paint.

The bald guy’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His eyes darted from her to me, like I was supposed to explain why this woman was behaving like a complete psycho bitch.

All I could do was shrug, my eyes going wide, my jaw down on the floor.

He finally found his voice, full of rage now. “You crazy suka!!” He reached for the door handle, pushing it open like he was about to launch himself at her. I braced for impact, for a fight to break out in the middle of this empty parking lot. 

But she was faster. Way faster.

Before he could even get out, she kicked the door shut with a sharp thud. His hand was still on the handle, his mouth foaming with swear words. His tirade was short-lived, though. I didn’t notice how, but a second later, she had a gun out. A gun. 

The metal gleamed as she pressed the barrel against his lips, tilting his head back, shoving it deep into his throat. 

“Uh-uh,” she cooed, mocking him like he was a puppy who just shat on the floor. “You stay right where you are, bad boy.”

His eyes went wide, fear settling in. Gone was his confident grin, the nasty remarks. He was breathing hard through his nose, his lips trembling around the barrel of the gun. 

“You like running your mouth, don’t you?” Her voice was husky, dripping with sarcasm. “How about you try it now, huh? Say something. I dare you.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. His eyes flicked between us, pleading for mercy.

“I bet you’re real brave when you’re in that seat, huh? But now??” She leaned in closer. “Aww, bad boy pissed himself.” She laughed again, softer this time, almost amused by his pathetic attempts at staying still. 

As if pre-programmed, my body moved on its own. Slowly, without making a noise I took out a cigarette and lit it up, flame flickering hysterically in my trembling hands. Then, as the crazy bitch was still messing with the poor guy, her back turned to me, I finally opened the message.

It read:

You are expected to establish contact with our special infiltrator Zhenya at your earliest convenience and coordinate accordingly to maintain operational readiness. Detailed mission briefings and further instructions will follow shortly. 

Below, attached was her picture.