After seeing the SUV collide with the light post, the other SUV pulled over beside it. Four men in suit hurriedly got out to check for survivors. They needed to do it quickly because the police were on their tail.
One man opened the driver's side door. As he did, the driver's lifeless body fell sideways and down the pavement.
By the looks of it, he died of a chest wound. The wound looks weird, the man thought. It was definitely not a bullet wound.
They needed to dispose off the body to prevent the authorities from linking it to them and to avoid any unnecessary clean up later.
He called to one of the men, "Help me with this one."
Together, the two of them lifted the body and placed it inside the back of the other SUV.
The other two helped the injured man who flew outside the windshield. He was unconscious but alive. They also brought him inside the other SUV.
In under a minute, the second SUV sped away, turned to a corner, and vanished from the main street.
"Where to?" asked the driver whose eyes intently studied the road.
"Let's go back," John replied. He was the leader of this operation that turned out to be a fiasco.
"Aren't we going to chase them?" the driver asked without turning his head. He was doing 60kph in heavy traffic. He needed to concentrate.
"No. The city will be swarming with police by now looking for us," John answered while stealing glances at the rear view mirror to see any blinking red and blue lights.
"How about the girl and the old guy?" the driver inquired.
"Let's leave them for now. Besides, the police will also be searching for them. I'll tell our tech guys to tap the radio frequencies of the police and keep their ears open for any info about their whereabouts. Then we orchestrate a blitzkrieg attack before the police arrives," John answered. "But first we need to report back to Boss and dispose the body. I need to know what exactly killed him. I'm damned sure it wasn't caused by a gun"
This brief conversation seemed to ease the growing tension inside the SUV.
All of these men were tough and battle-hardened as they come. But the lifeless body at the back was enough to put doubts in their minds whether the pay was worth the trouble.
During the chase, they also heard it. Three inexplicable loud noise that came from the Pink assassin when she got out of the car. They were not gunshots. But whatever it was, it killed the driver of the first SUV.
In the darkest corners of society, they heard rumors about the Pink assassin, gossips that bordered myths and reality.
For instance, some said she can disappear like a ghost. Some argued she moved with lightning speed making it look like she vanished. Some even went on to say she sold her soul to the devil to gain super powers.
But only a handful of operatives knew what really happened to her; fewer who encountered her lived to tell the tale.
These men now belong to the rare breeds able to meet the Pink assassin, although briefly. And this was quite rare. Almost always, the Pink assassin was doing the hunting.
While silently contemplating inside the SUV, John and his men knew this would not be their last encounter. They would clash against her soon enough and only one would come out breathing. They would ensure it was them.
There was no such thing as ghosts and demons, they assured themselves.
She's just a girl who was meticulously trained in the art of killing and that was all. She was definitely no match for experienced hitmen like them, they told themselves.
The ensuing silence inside the SUV did nothing to console John. The image of the chest wound of the dead driver flashed in his mind. That was no ordinary wound.
John came from a poor family whose mother died while giving birth to him and whose booze-hound father beat him everyday blaming him for what happened.
His father was a hopeless gambler. He borrowed money from shady people. And when his father was thrashed to a pulp for the fifth time for not paying, he sold John to the head of the Gamoni Family, one of the five mafia families in the Metropolitan City.
John was 16 years old when he became a leg-breaker for the family. He was smart enough to know his place.
His job was to accompany the other good for nothing violent thugs to do the Gamoni Family's bidding.
John would be sent to deliver warnings, collect debts, break a bone or two, and vandalize the businesses of rivals. Nothing fatal. Nothing deadly.
But on one occasion while giving an old man a good beating for unpaid debts, he accidentally killed him. John was devastated. Yet he knew that issues concerning morality had no place in his line of work.
When the news broke out, the head of the Gamoni Family was quick to give him a gun. Right then and there, John became one of the hitmen for the family.
At first, killing kept John from sleeping at night. As more men died in his hands, sleeping became easier. By the time killing became as easy as breathing, John became the lead of the pack of wild dogs of the Gamoni Family.
It was two years ago when he turned 30 yrs old that he was promoted as the right-hand of the head of the Gamoni family. A title that draw countless privileges and sowed fear in the hearts of those who went against the family. He was both feared and admired at the same time.
Despite all these, John longed to leave the life of blood and to retire to an exotic place and leave his past behind him. Someday, he said to himself.
As John sat quietly staring blankly through the window, he realized that this mission was not like any other mission.
They were up against a deadly assassin, a woman yes, but John was smart enough to know based on his countless experience that most dangerous foes betrayed the eyes.
John sighed. He grabbed his phone and dialed a couple of numbers. The other line started ringing. After almost an eternity, someone answered.
"Yes?" the voice was lethargic and sounded half-asleep.
"Boss, it's me," John said. "We have a problem. The plastic surgeon escaped. Looks like he hired the Pink assassin to exfiltrate him. "
A minute passed by until the man on the other side of the line muttered, "Holy sh*t! I didn't expect that. F*ck! Okay.. I need you here now. Round up all the men. I need the plastic surgeon dead no matter what it takes. Sh*t!"
"Okay Boss. I'll give the boys a heads up. ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) twenty minutes," John replied and ended the call.
Boss is on a very tight spot and he knows that his days are numbered, John mused. He knows what the Pink assassin was capable of. Now that the plastic surgeon knows that Boss wants his head, he will not hesitate to contact the authorities immediately and cut a deal. We need to hurry.
John was a faithful soldier of the Gamino family, but an inexplicable feeling stirred inside him.
Perhaps it is not so bad if the Boss will be sent to jail, John thought with a tinge of guilt. Perhaps it will be my ticket out of this living hell.