I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock and sirens outside my window. I reached under my pillow groaning and grabbed my gun, rubbing my eyes wearily as I pulled the trigger. The bang was defining, but I hardly noticed as gears and metal bits flew from the busted clock. I sighed slowly and slipped out of my bed. It’s too bad; I was starting to like that clock.
I looked at my phone as I walked to the bathroom and grabbed my toothbrush. I had twenty-eight new messages and three missed calls. Oops.
Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing my mouth, I went to shrug off my baggy tee-shirt depicting the Metallica logo and moved to the shower. I sighed and grumbled under my breath as the hot water cascaded down my skin, washing off the blood and grim from the night before.
I love how the stench of it sticks in my hair.
I slipped on a tight gray tee and baggy ripped jeans. Glancing in the mirror, I glowered at the slim, muscley woman staring back at me with bright yellow eyes.
“Evie, did you shoot the alarm again? Why aren’t you answering my texts?”
I growled again and shoved my feet into my shoes, stomping down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“It doesn’t matter Bex, it’s my alarm clock. And don’t call me Evie; that’s not my name.”
Bex, a caramel skinned Latina with brown flowing hair, turned the corner and set her own G17 on the counter.
“It was," she sniffed lightly, "I won’t do it again, sorry. Oh, and Mark’s looking for you.”
I groaned and walked to the door, grabbing my jacket off the back of a chair. I opened our front door and plastered on as fake a smile as I could muster.
“Hey Mark, what’s up?”
The young man grimaced back at me and handed me an envelope. I took it, the smile dripping off my face as a snarl replaced it. I laughed harshly and ducked to avoid a flaming soccer ball as it slammed into the wall next to my head.
Mark nodded and shook honey blond hair from his eyes. He glanced around nervously and pointed to the interior of my house.
“Can I come in for a bit.”
And so there we sat, phones and guns in hand. I read through tonight’s Kill-file while Bex noisily crunched on an apple while online shopping for junk, and Mark scrolled through his Kill-feed.
“How many points?” Bex asked Mark, spitting out a chunk of apple in the process.
Mark blushed lightly and mumbled, “1,072…” before blushing a deeper crimson. Bex nearly choked and I smirked.
“1,072?! How?! Didn’t you start the same time as me?”
I rolled my eyes, “Of course he did dummy. We all started with the Kill at the same time. Mark just worked harder than all you little shits.”
They both turned to me raising their eyebrows as I looked back to my file.
“Not my name.”
“Sorry... How many kills do you have?”
Bex squinted as I pull up my Kill-feed, “With the Kill? Only 4,928. Without, about 6,000.”
The silence that followed was interrupted only by the sound of sirens and gunshots from somewhere outside.
Tonight’s mission had me teamed with Keller and Greta, two of the most skilled Kill agents. Greta was a master when it came to stealth and Keller was the bomb with explosives. Did you catch my pun? I know, I’m so hilarious. Anyway, the victims were all big business owners on the west side of the city. Three women and six men, all with trained and armed bodyguards. Greta would sneak into the facility where the businesspeople were gathering to monitor their movements. Next, Keller would detonate one of the buildings near the facility, causing the businesspeople to be evacuated. Then, I, already disguised as one of the guards, would lead the businesspeople towards safety, killing them instead. After that, Keller would blow up the whole facility and we would escape in our getaway van. Honestly, this was just another Tuesday.
Bex leaned over my shoulder, squinting at the file, and turning to me.
“Wait, so you really have all of those kills?”
I rolled my eyes again and sighed, “Yeah. So?”
She grabbed my phone from the table and flipped through it, her smirk slowly turning into a frown.
“Well, for all those kills you must have at least a billion Kill-points, right?”
Bex and Mark swiveled their heads in unison.
“A billion?!” Mark laughed in disbelief, “What do you spend them on?”
I opened my mouth to reply only to be rudely interrupted by a drunken holler from our living room couch, “She’s saving for a private island,” Alek laughed loudly, his eyes rimmed with red as he stumbled into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee, “that way, she won’t have to deal with any of us anymore.”
I growled and turned slowly, my eye catching a flash of flesh as she scrambled into Alek’s room.
Instead of getting upset, I found myself amused, “At least I don’t spend my points on whores.”
He shrugged and slumped into the chair next to Bex. She cringed away from the stench of weed and alcohol, quickly moving to the chair on the other side of me.
“DAAAAAMN!” Donny’s voice rang from upstairs, “I hope all you fake bitches ain’t havin’ a whole party without me!”
He swept through the dining room with the scent of soap, mostly cancelling out Alek’s stench. Mark blushed a deep crimson as Donny opened the fridge just to shut it again with the same gusto as when he had entered. Donny turned to face us, a low-fat yogurt in his hand as he leaned against the counter. Mark stared at him then shook his head looking away as Donny grinned and winked at him.
“Don, stop confusing the poor boy!” Bex snatched the yogurt from him and stabbed a spoon into it, “And put your titties away!”
Donny glanced down at his topless self as if surprised by the sight, “When did that happen?”
He laughed loudly and practically danced up the stairs and back into the room next to mine. I turned back to Mark, the question on my lips dying as I cringed at the sight of his flushed face. Alek must have noticed too; stood to come around the side of Mark’s chair with a grin,
“Hey man,” Mark practically shriveled at the smell of Alek’s morning breath, “Ya know he’s into girls, right?”
Mark, Bex, and I all groaned in exasperation. Bex recovered first, pulling a pack of gum from her pocket and chucking it at Alek.
“Alek, honey...” she inhaled deeply only to gag slightly, “How do I put this lightly--”
“You smell like actual shit,” I stared at him with dead eyes, “Shower.”
Alek made a face and stomped off to his room, “You always have such a bad attitude, Vik.”