Hired to kill Martin Kane A hired killer finds his latest target more than he bargained for. Author's note: Anyone wishing to contact me may do so via the DtV messageboard for Readers & Writers. I invite anyone to send any comments, good or bad, should they wish to. I'm always interested in what others think of my little tales. Copyright is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission first. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The killer stalked his target. She walked back home along the darkened street oblivious to the man following behind her. Normally, Daniel would have taken her out via a pass-by. He would have walked past, looking like an innocent pedestrian. Then, at the last minute, he’d shoot her point blank. In this case however, the instructions of the hit were quite clear. She was to be taken out with a knife, face to face and in person. This wouldn’t be an issue though, he’d done far worse in his time, and been far more personal. He’d been following her for three days, at a distance. She kept to a basic routine, sticking to the pattern the client had described. Janine worked the late shift, which was perfect. She started at four and left at midnight. Then she walked home, always using the same route, two miles from town to her quiet neighbourhood. It took her through two alleyways, cutting through a carpark, across the common, and half a dozen minor roads. Most of the journey was poorly lit and shadowed. The kind of places a lone woman shouldn’t walk at night. He had his pick. She turned down a side street. Keeping a suitable distance, Daniel followed. -I don’t want to know when or where. I don’t want to know anything about it. -That’s fine. You want me to let you know when it’s done? -No, I’ll find out soon enough. -Then it’s just a matter of money. -I did have one issue about the payment. -What’s that? -What if you fail? How do I get my money back? -That won’t happen. -What if it does? I’ll need the money to hire another assassin. -Leave the money in the Post Office box, as agreed, but I’ll give you a key. I’ll check it but I won’t take it out until after I’ve done the job. If I fail, you’ll be able to retrieve the money. -Good enough. -I don’t have to warn you not to betray me. He’d picked the best place for it - the second alleyway. It was the most cut-off part of her journey, the most secluded spot. Two hundred yards of almost utter darkness, the soft city glow barely subsidised by the few orange bulbs that hadn’t been broken. He’d by able to kill her mid-way through the alleyway. There was nowhere to run to, high walls on either side offered nothing but blank indifference. The only thing that could possibly go wrong was if she turned and fled when he started down the far end of the alleyway towards her. It was unlikely, however. She was suspecting nothing and clearly didn’t feel threatened walking alone at night, given her choice of route. And if that did occur, he would simply walk through innocently as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Even if someone else happened along, which was unlikely, there was only two places from which they could come, he’d have sight of either end. No one would be able to reach him in time to prevent his assault. It was perfect. -I only have one stipulation about the job. -And what’s that? -I want you to use a knife. -May I ask why? -Call it symbolic. -OK, fair enough. Knife it is. You want her to suffer at all or should it be quick? -Hmm. Oh, I’ll just leave that up to your personal tastes. Janine cut through the carpark just like she always did. Just like he knew she would. Tonight was the night; everything was going perfectly. He pondered to himself how he would go about it. The quick clean blade, through the sternum, up and sever, open the artery. Dead in a matter of seconds, spilling to the ground, helpless and hopeless. But that wasn’t any fun. He liked a bit of struggle, a bit of cat and mouse. He wanted her know what was coming. He decided to play it by ear, take it as it comes, not take any chances, do what was necessary. Though deep down he knew that, given the opportunity he’d take as long with the task as he possibly could get away with. He got into the car. He watched her pass the corner lamppost and hit the start button on his stopwatch. The numbers began dancing, counting with a precision that his human reactions rendered pointlessly exact. He started the car and drove, taking himself to a similar road near by and parallel to the one he’d just left. He stopped the car, switching it off, got out, locked it, pocketed the keys. He checked his watch. Three minutes and twenty seconds. He waited by the opening of the alleyway, watching the seconds count up. At three forty-five he started walking slowly down the alleyway. He could see the square of light far in the distance, the light at the end of the tunnel. He was alone. He’d got a dozen or so steps in when at the far side, Janine stepped across the patch of illumination and into the alleyway. -The one thing I can’t highlight enough - she knows how to take care of herself. -I know, you told me that. It’s not a problem. -I’m serious. Do not underestimate her. She can be lethal. -Look, Babe, I’m a professional. I can handle her. -Fine. Just be careful, that’s all. Daniel pulled the knife and stepped into her path. They made eye contact for the first time, and in that instant, he felt his first pangs of doubt. Too late. Janine should have panicked, screamed, jumped, froze. She should have, at the very least, been a little surprised. But he saw nothing in the cool clear eyes save for calm resolve. If he didn’t know better he’d have sworn she was expecting it. He went straight for the kill, sweeping the knife in an outward slash that should have split open her torso, right across the solar plexus. Should have but didn’t. Instead, her hand had swept down hard and rigid, catching his wrist in the crook of her own. She’d stopped his sweep dead and immediately twisted the hand around to grab his wrist hard. Fingers with more strength than he would have believed possible closed around the fragile joint and his whole arm caught fire. Shards of razor pain shot up to his elbow and he heard the sound of his own bones breaking. Feeling fled from his hand, drowned by the splintered wrist and he only knew she held the knife because she lifted it up to show him. ‘You shouldn’t play with such dangerous toys,’ she told him, her voice frighteningly calm. ‘Else you’re gonna hurt yourself.’ She still had a grip around his arm but the joint inside her fist was crushed and useless. Daniel punched out with his other arm, not aiming, just throwing his fear and fury into physical damage. He struck her stomach hard and felt the give. There was muscle there but she hadn’t been expecting the blow. He’d killed men before with a gut punch like that and he revelled in the damage he did now. Janine let out an ‘oof’ and folded a little. Her grip on his pulped wrist however remained as resolute as ever. The look in her eyes should have been agonised pain, but as she straightened he saw only vicious annoyance. He punched her again but this time her defences were up and the wall of abdominal muscles was like steel. The blow hurt him more than her, his good wrist sending a wave of shock up the arm. She wrenched his arm upwards, tearing the joint further and snapping the elbow. Daniel actually screamed this time but she was unmoved by his agony. There was a clatter as she threw the knife aside, evidently not feeling that she needed the weapon to finish this. ‘My turn,’ she hissed. She jerked his body straight, pulling him up by the ruined arm. Then she threw her own gut punch. Pain was not the word for it. It was overload. It was fire that was as cold as ice. It was all senses firing on all cylinders. He wasn’t able to scream because there was no sound that could possibly do justice to such sensation. He wondered idly, in a dream like unreality, if that tearing sensation could possibly have been correct. He saw with careless surprise that it was indeed so. Her fist was inside him, having ripped through the sinew of his belly, and was now buried somewhere amongst his intestines. "To feel another’s hand moving inside one’s own body is a singular experience." Where the phrase came from he couldn’t be sure. He’d read it somewhere perhaps, probably a porno mag. His current predicament probably wasn’t what they had had in mind, but that didn’t make the statement any less accurate. She said something to him but he had no idea what. Whatever part of his brain dealt with sound or with translation had gone on temporary leave. Instead he simply stared at her, reaching his good hand forward to grasp at the arm still jutting from his belly. He staggered a little, using her arm for support. He lurched and grabbed higher, reaching her upper arm. Beneath the jacket sleeve he felt the obscenely swollen bulge of her biceps muscles, tremendous in its size and consistency. Despite the insanity of his situation, part of his mind registered that this was wrong, that she was a woman and, as such, couldn’t possibly possess muscles so huge. Daniel looked at her anew, staring at this unreal woman. She was staring back at him, watching his face with sadistic fascination, carefully taking in every moment of his life as it slowly ebbed away. It was only then, at the last, that he realised he’d seen her before. Not as in having followed her but really seen her, up close and personal. He’d spoken to her, made a deal with her. ‘You?’ he hissed, the breath hard to find, even to utter this simple syllable. ‘Me,’ she agreed. ‘Why?’ She shrugged. ‘Because I can.’ He let out a sob, knowing the hopelessness of his situation. ‘Please.’ ‘Show some backbone,’ she scolded. Then she grinned. ‘In fact...’ Her fingers delved within him, tearing through flesh and various organs. They closed around something. She ripped her closed fist out of his body, bringing with it a backwash of blood and pulp, spilling his bowels upon the ground. His innards splashed around their feet and began to flow like water, a long runner of intestine snaking out of him in a soft, plopping mess. She opened her blooded fist showing him the segments of bone she’d ripped free. Apparently he failed to see the humour in this because as soon as she released him, he collapsed upon himself, his stomach still spreading around him like a growing paint spill. She dropped the bits of spine and pulled a hanky out of her pocket to wipe her hands on. It was a messy business but there really was something far more satisfying about doing the job with your bare hands rather than relying on weapons. That was something men like this never got. Janine walked away from Daniel, the sounds of him dying fading into the background. The contract was over and she was safe again, until next time. She deserved a drink when she got in. And then tomorrow she’d go to the post office and pick up her money.