Deep breaths.
Seven had taught that if you want to concentrate enough, start with deep breaths and tune everything out.
No matter what happened or what one heard, it was imperative not to break the concentration.
While my late father tried not to expose me to violence, Seven did the opposite. He told me the harsh reality, and to be honest, he did not need to convince me.
I was a living victim of that cruel truth.
"Who are you?"
Jace whispered beside me. His breaths were coming in short ragged ones, only to be cut off by him having to fight off the few men left after I helped him out.
I refused to get distracted.
I couldn't read his expression as I had blindfolded myself to conceal my identity.
Unlike the superheroes or villains in comics or movies, I had no costume ready for things like this.
I was lucky to find a big hanky in my bag. It wasn't newly laundered, but, well, I needed something.
The important thing was it did the trick.
Seven's rigorous training in the dark and about senses paid off.
In my line of work, it was essential. But I had no idea what I had signed up for back then.
No one forced me to do this, though. Seven and I had a deal.
Until this day, I'm honoring it as he did his.
"Are you a secret agent?"
Jace inquired again. This time, I felt his shoulder bump with mine. By approximate, I think there were only five men left standing.
Groans and the stench of sweat hang in the surroundings. It was a nasty kind of atmosphere to be in. And I'm sure the old man was probably shaking his head in disapproval with me butting in his business.
"You're too noisy," I lamented, sending one of the remaining five sprawling on the ground before making him join his squad of sleeping, big bulky guys.
By my count, there were only two left. He dealt with the rest, and I let him deal with the last two.
When that was done, I popped the bubble of concentration and peered from my blindfold. Some goons that had already regained consciousness went back inside the car they came from.
A few minutes later, a different car came around.
It was a jeep.
But all the same, the windows were tinted.
I wonder who owned it and who it came for. When the rest of the men in black saw the car, they all stumbled to get on their feet and disappeared in a matter of minutes.
When they emptied out, leaving the newly arrived black jeep, I pulled off the blindfold I had hurriedly tied around my eyes.
The old man was my main concern. I turned to him and saw how he didn't look too happy to catch my gaze.
I still beamed at him, though.
While I made my way to him, Jace approached the black jeep.
My curiosity about him had spiked to another level. But I needed to know more about the deal with the old man.
Who was he anyway?
What did he do to have the mafia come after him?
To add, that phoenix symbol bothered me.
"You should have left when you could," the old man reprimanded the moment I reached him.
I scratched the back of my head, playing nonchalance regarding the fighting. He didn't ask about it. Who was I to remind him?
"I couldn't resist," I replied, gently taking back my things from him. He shook his head, letting out a grievous sigh.
"I'd hate to send you away, but from now on, you can no longer come here. If they see you again…."
He paused, a far away look evident on his face.
"Didn't you see me take them down? I can handle myself, gramps. My father enrolled me in self-defense classes back then."
I was quick to come up with this excuse before he could ask.
And truth be told? It wasn't a lie. I had actual certificates to prove my claim.
Seven did enroll me in a few self-defense classes just for show. Of course, I did learn a thing or two. But he taught me the rest, which I couldn't simply pick up from there.
"I can't let harm befall you, young lady. Those men would stop at nothing to get to me."
I knew that. But, I couldn't admit to the old man about this minor detail.
"I'm actually curious what an old man had done to catch the attention of such people."
The old man held my gaze. I didn't give anything away.
Of course, my thoughts weren't easy to appease—a pile of questions mixed with memories playing around the phoenix.
With a heavy sigh, the old man took my hands in his.
"Don't worry about this senile old man. Besides, I have Jace. He is a stubborn one."
As he said that, I followed his gaze to the person in question. He had just finished talking to whoever it was inside the black jeep.
A honk came from the car before Jace waved goodbye. He then looked in our direction, giving the old man a salute.
I bit my lower lip.
He would probably demand the answers to his previous queries.
Too bad, the best he could get out from me were half-truths, and the rest would be white lies.
He was better off not knowing the rest of my story. That goes with everyone in my life.
I don't need anyone to pity me. Furthermore, who in their right mind would ever reveal that they work as an assassin?
It was funny.
Supposedly, being an assassin was a part-time job. I had a different goal when I agreed to Seven's deal.
However, he convinced me otherwise. And he didn't even have to lift a finger for it.
I had found killing for justice a little satisfying.
That was how I felt on my first mission.
If that was weird, I'm happy to be branded as one.
I'd be happy to be a weirdo.