Revenge Is a Two Way Street, Part One

She would be karma. It was July 7, 2006. While most imbibed in bars after work, Isabelle was doing push-ups and crunches in the gym. While most spent time catching the first episode of Psych, she strategized on ways of attacking this family who ruined her life.

Isabelle Matthews, also known by the assassin name of Karma, was neither super-smart nor super-sexy. She was mundane, normal and had been reminded of that often by her parents, or her sperm and egg donors, as she liked to call them. She was abandoned at thirteen by those same people, and she killed them at nineteen. People killed for many reasons: funds, ideology, love, revenge. Isabelle, she killed out of malice and retribution, long stirring resentment that had smoldered for years.

Ms. Matthews left Room 701 at the Jade Square Hotel with her knives and her throwing star, Ms. Centennial, tightly packed in her cargo pants. Ms. Centennial’s counterpart, another throwing star named Mr. Century, sat on her belt as her buckle. She wore a cut halter top that exposed a little skin to look seductive, and by the way the concierge looked at her, it worked. As she walked by the reception desk, the concierge needed to check something.

“Ms. Halliwell, I--,” started the concierge.

“Mrs., but don’t tell my boyfriend that,” replied Isabelle in a hush-hush tone.

Penelope Halliwell was one of Isabelle’s favorite aliases when she was on the job, mostly because her favorite show was Charmed.

“Mum’s the word. Would you like a pamphlet with the list of the sights? Los Angeles is not the best at night, and I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

“I’m fine, thank you. I appreciate you asking, though.”

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Isabelle walked out to her rental car. She revved the car and started down Prescott Street. She wanted to get this job done by tonight, but she couldn’t do it on an empty stomach. The clock read 10:09 PM. Plenty of people would have already been in their beds fast asleep by this time, but there were still some restaurants and pubs open that had some good grub. One of those places was Purity, which was owned by her old friend Shannon Wyatt.

Shannon and Isabelle were trained into being assassins by the same mentor, Wylie Quixote. They were a team, Karma and Destiny, until tragedy struck, making Shannon quit being an assassin. She opened up the restaurant and ever since then, it’s been a hit. Isabelle walked into the place, switching her hips to the soft music that played overhead. She ran her hands through her blonde hair and went to a booth. An African-American lady with curly natural hair wearing a Purity apron walked towards her with a menu in hand, and then stopped once she recognized Isabelle.

“Hey, Matthews. What can I get for you,” asked Shannon. “It’s on the house.”

“I’ll have the usual.”

Her usual meal was a chicken sandwich with three juicy wedges of tomato, dripping with mustard and mayonnaise, steaming hot seasoned curly fries, and a cookies-and-cream milkshake with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. She always had that meal before a job.

“When are you gonna retire, Matthews? You can come work with me.”

“I’m retiring when I get sick of it, and I’m not sick just yet. Why don’t you get back in the business?”

Shannon pointed to her prosthetic leg. “This would be a liability. Any witnesses could immediately identify me.”

Shannon lost her leg in her last job as Destiny. The victim was a woodcutter with a pedophilic nature, and he got her good one time in the leg. The leg probably could have been saved if she hadn't been stubborn and gone to the hospital.

“That’s why you don’t leave any witnesses,” joked Isabelle.

“Well, I’m always open for a co-owner.”

Isabelle had been thinking about retiring for a long time, but she wasn’t ready. Shannon slid the food to Isabelle, and not even five minutes passed before the plate was clean and there were only dregs of cookie at the bottom of the cup.

“Alright, Wyatt. See you later. Thanks for the meal.”

“No prob, Matthews. Just be careful, and remember my offer,” said Shannon as she picked up the dishes.

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Karma left her car in a parking lot that was a few miles away from the house of the people who would be murdered that night. They were the Shandons, a prominent family in the local area. Owen Shandon was a lawyer and Anita Shandon was an OB/GYN. Both of them were murderers. They had one daughter, Kelleigh, but she was at Girl Scouts camp. She would come home to her parents murdered but Isabelle didn’t care. She would just have to suck it up.

When she got to 1345 LaFleur Drive, she stopped. She walked up to the door and picked the lock with ease. She had come a few nights earlier and oiled the hinges on the door so that there would be no noise when she opened the door. The Shandons’ living room was larger than the little hotel room that Karma was staying in. She locked the door behind herself and ventured through the house into the bedroom. Mr. Shandon was sitting there with his back turned away from Karma, and that’s exactly what she wanted. She pulled Ms. Centennial from her lower pocket and threw it at Mr. Shandon. They met in gory matrimony as the throwing star entered his back and stuck itself into the wall in front of him. He turned around and looked at Karma with shock on his face. He tried to speak, but too much blood was coming through his mouth to understand.

“What? Karma got your tongue,” asked Karma.

“OWEN,” screamed Mrs. Shandon as she came out of the bathroom. “What has happ--”

Mr. Century cut through her throat before she could finish the question. Karma quickly retrieved her weapons, cleaned them off, and left the room with a large weight lifted off of her shoulders. Suddenly, she heard a noise under the bed. She palmed Mr. Century and lowered herself to the ground. There was a little girl under the bed with red dots all over her face, and she looked scared.

“I’m sorry about your parents. Remember Karma, alright? You can come for Karma when you get older if you want,” said Karma, who was now back to being Isabelle.

The little girl, whom Isabelle assumed to be Kelleigh, nodded with a tear running down her polka dotted face. Isabelle ran out of the house and didn’t stop until she got to her car. When she did stop, she broke down crying. She pulled out one of her prepaid phones and called Shannon.

“Hello,” said Shannon.

“Hey. It’s Isabelle. I’m taking up your offer.”

“What’s the matter with you? And why did you change your mind so quickly?”

“The answer to both questions is a liability.”

“OK, we’ll talk about this when you get to the restaurant.”

“See you then. Bye,” said Isabelle as she hung up the phone.