Killer’s Don’t Get Kind

Lillian Paressi lay on her belly on the roof of a four story building across the street from the Palace Theater, one eye squinted as she peered through her scope. The Prize was in formal wear, talking to two other men on the steps of the Palace.

She raised her head from her riffle, trying to get a better look at the whole scene. The men looked familiar somehow but… Lillian shook her head, focus, she told herself sternly, those other men don’t matter. The Prize… He’s the target. Not them.

She lined up her sight with The Prize and her finger twitched on the target. A women with high swept blond curls and a periwinkle dress glided over to the men and started to talk, a matching clutch in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other. She finished with the drink and set it on a tray that a waiter was carrying.

She lay one delicate hand on The Prizes’ arm, stepping around the men so she was in front of him. Her shoulders shook as she laughed with the men as one of them said something funny. Lillian glared at her and cursed herself inwardly for missing her clear shot.

“Move,” She muttered under her breath. The ear bud picked up on her voice and static raced through the lines of her headset. A headache began to pound in the back of her head, moving to consume her brain as her vision wavered, black dots swimming in her eyes. She blinked rapidly and pressed two white pills into her mouth, letting them dissolve there.

“Paressi, what’s the hold up?” the Webmaster barked through the intercom.

“Nothing, Sir. The Prize is almost—” Static cut through her words and an electric current shot from the ear bud. Lillian hissed in pain and shock as she pulled the little device out of her ear. When she looked up again the woman in the powder blue dress was leading The Prize inside the building. He entered first, and the woman looked over her shoulder, her eyes locked on Lillian’s. She flashed white teeth in a wicked, condescending smile and the door shut. Lillians finger twitched again but she knew her opportunity was gone.

She heard a very unwelcome sound and jumped to her feet, eyes sweeping the streets. Four police cars were coming towards the Palace, lights flashing.

That’s impossible! She couldn’t have seen me, what’s going on? Was I set up? Lillian thought frantically. She shoved the ear bud back in her ear.

“Sir, sir! The target’s gone, my mission has been compromised-” Paressi was cut off again by the headset.

“How scared are you?”

Lillian whipped around, one hand ripping a hand gun out of her shoulder holster, firing even before she had a target. She squeezed off four bullets before realizing she was shooting a shadow. Her own shadow.

Her pulse was beating in her ears, the rapid tattoo of her heart dangerously high. Only then she realized the sirens had stopped getting closer and had parked at the steps of the Palace. Her other hand fumbled and she popped four red pills between her lips. Her eyes dilated, her pupils swallowing the shocking blue of her irises almost entirely. Her pupils shrunk back to pin points and then grew again. Lillian shook her head, her headache swelling to enormous proportions.

“Are you more scared of dying or of getting caught I wonder?” It was the same voice as before, cold, feminine, detached. “Do you know what happens to traitors who are caught?”

“Where are you?” Lillian hissed. “Who are you?”

“I am everywhere. I am everyone. You’re Lillian Paressi, assassin and a member of the Fifth Order and part of the Running’s of Potentials. You're the last one. You won The Prize. But now The Prize is safe.”

“Show yourself!” Lillian screamed, borderline hysterical, waving her gun like a madwoman.

Feet pounded on the steps to the roof. Fists shook the door and in mere seconds police streamed onto the roof. Lillian turned and ran.

“Catch her, she’s going to jump!” someone shouted. Hands grabbed at her and pulled her away from the edge.

Lillian screamed and fought like a rabid beast. She emptied the shots left in her gun but couldn’t tell if she’d hit anything. She saw the needle before it pierced her skin but couldn’t do anything about it. Almost as soon as the drug got into her system she fell into a deep black void.

When she next woke up, unbeknownst to her, it was days later. She had been laid out of a hard pallet on the floor and the bright light of morning was broken by the bars covering the door and her small window. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling bare and vulnerable without her weapons.

The women from before was standing outside her cell, although she had changed into baggy brown pants and an olive green t-shirt.

“You!” Lillian shirked and flung herself at the women. “Explain this!” Her hands reached out of the cell, through the bars, clawing at the women, who stepped back out of reach of Lillians fingers.

“You die in the morning.” The women said coldly. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

Lillian faltered. Her arms dropped and her thin fingers curled around the rusty steel bars, turning white. “How will I go?” she asked softly, defeated.

The women tilted her head thoughtfully. “Psychotic mass murder…”

“How?” Lillian persisted.

The woman pursed her lips and took pity. “Firing squad.” With that she turned and left. Lillian stumbled back and fell onto her narrow cot. A shadow flickered past her window and a slip of paper dropped through the bars. Lillian scooped it up and unfolded it.

The Webmaster is pleased. Good work. Unfortunately you have been caught and thus loose. You will be eliminated. May your death be as painless as the deaths you dealt to others.

Lillian sighed and dropped the paper. She rubbed a pale, dirty hand over her eyes. It was over. It was over and she was tired. In that one breath all the fight, the anger and pain and hurt drained away. She was at peace. This was right, because she’d killed.

The guards came to get her the next day. She was lead to a small stone courtyard. She went without argument. She held her hands up so the guards could chain her shackles to the post with less difficultly. The firing squad lined up and took aim. Lillian smiled and looked down the barrel of the center gun.

“Be kind.” She whispered. “Aim for my heart.”