CRACK! BOOM!
Thunder and lightning collided above as extreme rainfall poured onto two figures standing opposite each other in an obscure alleyway. One was tall and bulky, the other more lithe and feminine. Trash and garbage littered the narrow passage as they tensely approached each other. Facing one another, no more than a metre apart, the smaller shape was the first to speak, hissing at the other.
"You said it would take time. Yet not even five days later, you're here. Do you even have it?" The woman sharply hissed like a vengeful snake, her suspicions obscured by her needs.
"Chill, chill! Ain't you a piece of work. It's you that's dying, ain't it? No need to get pissy with me." The bulkier male growled, "Ha, I heard menopause hits some harder than others."
The woman grimaced, "Tsk, do you have it? You can kiss your boss goodbye if you don't. He'll come for you when I tell him. There's no escaping him."
"Jenny, oh Jenny. Why so angst? Mark is one of the guys. He's a chill brother. Hey, bet you didn't know, but I had a nice lunch with him. Had a lovely crêpe."
Her face illuminated by a dim orange light in the alley, Jenny tutted in annoyance, "Just give it to me, you fuck. It's painful just standing. I- I need it now. I don't care what you got up to."
"Ooh well. Thought it'd be a nice story to tell." He pulled out a small container from his hoodie, his face obscured by the darkness of the crying night. He threw it to her casually as he smiled, "It should all be there. It'll cure the VD. Permanently."
She opened the box, six vials inside with a clear liquid sloshing around. Jenny frowned, her sense of danger alerting her as she leapt left, a bullet whizzing past her ear and ripping her hood. The male tutted as the gun fired again, drowned out by the constant rain and muffled by a high-tech silencer. She turned and ducked as the bullet narrowly missed, part of the brick puffing out dust. She ran out of the alley section, taking a left into another before realising it was a dead end. A wet fence greeted her, to her dismay.
"Run, Jenny, run!" The armed assassin shouted, laughing. He walked after her as he watched her awkwardly clamber over the fence panel. He aimed and shot again.
"Ah!" She screamed, the bullet striking her left shoulder as the muscles and bone took significant damage. She could feel the warm blood trickling down her breast and back as the cold wind howled like a predator chasing its prey. Forcing herself upwards from the mud, Jenny ran into an abandoned and decrepit apartment building. Another projectile struck the frail door behind her, the topmost part of the wood splintering from the impact.
Reaching her waist, she pulled her pistol and sprinted up the stairs. This was a professional who was good at their job. Their only weakness from her immediate conclusions was that he was arrogant and sadistic. He liked her to run and cry as he played with her.
The assassin walked through the door, spotting four fearful eyes peering around a doorway to his left. They scuttered inside like insects. He appeared in the doorframe like a ghost, unnaturally fast, spotting the two small figures. He tutted to himself, the two children huddled in a darkened corner, whimpering, "Wrong place, wrong time. Unfortunate, kiddos." The man pointed the barrel at them. Two sharp and quiet sounds echoed through the building seconds later as two bodies dropped dead to the floor, hugging each other.
"Fuck, Jenny. What a mistake." She miserably spoke to herself, the cold sapping her energy and her fingers stiff from the weather. She hid in a large room behind a concrete pillar, the rest of the building appearing to be burnt years ago. She reckoned there were ten metres between herself and the doorway at the other side, with twenty between her and the incoming assassin. The walls behind her had holes and were seemingly made of plaster or thin material. The pillar was the best cover she was going to get.
The structure was quiet after two more silenced gunshots, the raging thunderstorm and the unceasing striking of rain on concrete, nothing more than background noise. The wind occasionally roared throughout the building; Jenny's heart pounded as her head peeked around the corner, gun trained on the door.
WHOOSH!
A bullet took the top portion of her right ear, the blood splattering across the pillar as her unmuffled gun resounded around the site. A gunfight ensued as bullets were traded; the assassin faster than she could train her sights on, as he dodged left to right and fired through the open doorway. Their shots teased her head constantly, toying with her, always missing by slim margins. She reloaded with her last mag.
"Fuck!" She muttered hatefully.
"Oh no, last mag? Come on, Jenny. Aren't you part of the Black Guard? No wonder Barak and crew left you behind. You aren't worth shi-"
"Fuck you!" She screamed as she fired four bullets, retreating towards the back door. Escape was slim, she knew it, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. But, if she could jump from the windows into a road or something. She could escape. It was naive she knew it, but she didn't want to accept her approaching fate.
A mighty scream came from her lips as her knee shattered into a million pieces from a well-placed shot. Her chin hit the ground hard, a tooth knocked out and her bottom row biting off a section of her tongue. She cried mournfully on the floor as fluids leaked out of her leg and blood coloured her teeth crimson.
Heavy footsteps resounded behind her, boots echoing in her ears. Trying desperately, she crawled along the ground, a trail of tears and blood lingering behind her. She stopped, forcing herself to swing the gun on the unsuspecting fellow. A final chance.
"Ahhhhhh!" Another feminine scream cried out, the fingers of her right hand blown to pieces as the smoking gun rattled upon the floor. She tried to reach over with her left before that, too, was shot. Three fingers and a spurt of blood hit her chest.
She barely made a sound, the pain causing her lucidity to fade as darkness threatened to overtake her. The man casually spoke as he stood over her, "Ew. What a messy affair. If you'd stayed still, it would've been far easier, Ma'am. Although, you did well. You hit me once. It's a shame I'm built different."
Her eyes flickered as Jenny regained some clarity, "Heh. Haha, fuck you."
"Not bad. Impressive even. Despite your shoddy skills, your resilience as one of the Butchers of Ahamasu is truly the stuff of legends. For you Brits, that is." The man mocked in clear American.
She cried as the pain became unbearable, adrenaline wearing off as she slowly bled out. She didn't want to die, the darkness approaching with unprecedented certainty as she questioned the man, "W- Why? Why!?"
He kneeled beside her as he looked straight into her eyes, "Always the why? Well, put simply, Tayi has no use of you." Lightning crackled in the sky as the man's black face was illuminated for a split second, "Suppose I'll let you in on a little secret before your body runs cold. Tayi isn't as cohesive as you imagine. Sishaf and Russo have a... competitive rivalry if you will. You work for Sishaf. Russo wants Mark, and well, you're a loose end, really. A problem that we can blame on your boss. It's nothing personal."
The blood loss started to become critical, her mind a chaotic coalescence of thoughts and emotions as she slurred out her words, "... Fuck this world."
He sighed, "Truer words have never been spoken. Oh well." He pointed his barrel at her stomach and fired three shots as blood was forcefully coughed from her mouth. He reached into his right pocket, grabbing a cigarette and lighter before putting it to his lips. It was now aflame, a flickering light in the sordid cold, as the wind rushed through the ruins. He took a deep puff as he stared into her dead eyes before pointing his gun towards them. Firing twice more, ensuring her demise, he turned around and walked away.
Placing his gun in his pocket, his gloved hands now holding a phone, he rang a number. It took a few moments to pick up as the other side answered, "Done?"
"Done, Boss. She's cooked."
"... Get back here for Thursday. A flight will be booked for tomorrow at 8am. The kid can't know you did it."
"Thank you, Boss."
The line was cut as he put it back. He walked into the dark and rainy night, the nearby residents entirely oblivious to the events that had occurred. Once out of the area, he got to his rental. He climbed inside and took out his phone once again, sending a message. A minute later, nearby CCTV and electronic devices powered back on, the last ten minutes erased into oblivion.
DING DONG DING DONG! DING DONG DING DONG!
"Damn, that's loud." Mark stated as he slowly flew past Big Ben, half-eaten fish and chips from Brighton in his hands. Flying north, his destination, his new home, he watched as dark clouds meandered above. He sincerely hoped for less rain, the amount already halfway to a new record for December. Sometimes he wondered if Eneph did fix climate change; or whether he only delayed the inevitable. Considering the pricks in government, it isn't a farfetched conspiracy.
Casually wading through the air, his phone rang. If not for the sound, he doubted he could feel the vibration as his sense of touch numbed further. Grabbing it, food in one hand and device in the other, he answered, "Ah, Barak. Now you've rang me, I... I want to thank you for the birthday surprise. I know I said it a lot during it to both you and Jenny, but... thank you. It made me feel... human again."
"That's... erm, you're welcome. But... Mark, you need to get here ASAP. I've sent you the destination on your phone. It's urgent."
'Erm, that does not sound good.' Mark thought nervously.
His phone pinged from the notification, "Ok, I got it. W- Why an abandoned building? A factory, no less?"
"I'll... you'll see when you get here. Just brace yourself, ok?"
"Mhm." Mark sceptically answered, rapidly finishing what was left of his food as he floated down to a bin. He chucked what was left inside. Surrounding him, he could hear people shouting his name as they spewed various amounts of inconsequential crap. Ignoring them, he shot into the sky before a sonic boom resounded high in the clouds.
His mind strained as his body was enveloped by a telekinetic field, the process becoming better every time he pushed his limits. Flying as fast as he could, he arrived at an abandoned and apparently previously burnt-down factory on the outskirts of Watford. He spotted Barak standing outside, his expression of grim stoicism. Mark touched down beside him, stopping just short of impacting the ground as soggy mud splattered around him.
"... Thanks." Barak plainly stated as he wiped piles of mud off him.
"Sorry." Mark sheepishly replied, following the man who walked inside without another word. Entering, he instantly smelt a foul smell. It had a distinct tang, one he'd smelt a week prior.
"Blood?" He questioned, now spotting a faint trail of it on the floor and up the stairs.
Going up, entering a large, open room, he continued onwards before getting to a battered pillar, more blood covering it and the concrete broken in parts. It led to an open doorway on the other side, which he approached. A hand grabbed his arm.
"What you see in there. Don't reveal too much." Barak whispered into his ear, "We know what we know. But... just don't get emotional. Leave it for later. You cannot show weakness now."
He frowned deeply at the suited man's comment, continuing forward and passing forensic scientists and armed guards.
"Shit..." Mark muttered as he clocked a woman's corpse. He glanced at Barak, encroaching further as he looked at the face before shouting, "Oh shit!"
'Jenny? What? How... Why? Should I care? But she betrayed my trust? Fuck man!'
The next few seconds were spent with both men staring at the cold, lifeless body of Jenny Mackay. Mark was the first to speak.
"What happened? These are... bullet wounds? Shit, look at her knee." It was grisly, the bone sticking out in parts as if hit by a sniper rifle.
Barak sighed, "They're bullet wounds, alright. Not the ordinary kind, either. Advanced, for sure. Right, everyone out for a moment."
The surrounding soldiers and experts glanced at their superior before strolling off for a short break. Barak continued after they had left.
"They found this in her pocket." Showing a plastic container filled with six vials, "Presumed to be the cure. I'm keeping this between us, by the way. The government is already partially spooked by your leaving and recent apparent ties with Tayi. It's going to be a shit show if the corporation is involved with a murder of a senior army official."
Mark thought back to Russo's promise to deal with his problems. He didn't know what the man had done, but there has yet to be any blowback about Freya, and Mark assumed he'd keep Jenny alive as a pawn rather than murder her.
"Do we know who did it, then? Presumably, Tayi or the Americans? But... why would either do it? Both gain. Who found the body?" Mark uttered, confused.
"There are a few leading theories. When we meet with my group later, we'll brainstorm. But, at the moment, I suspect it was Tayi over the US. The US has more to gain from her being alive than dead. But Tayi, well, you mentioned Jenny worked for Sishaf? Perhaps he got spooked as well. Took her out. No leads back to him." He sighed as he rubbed his forehead, "She was found by a squatter who was asleep. Her... kids were murdered too downstairs. Got a member of the public to ring emergency services."
"Kids? Fucking animals." He grimaced, "Tsk, this is a pretty fucking big lead to Sishaf. It's almost too obvious. He's smarter than this, surely." Mark squatted next to the woman's body, "Why so many?"
"That's because Russo told you she worked for him. Without that, we'd have no concrete idea besides America. As to the wounds, we'll have to wait for the coroner's report. But my best guess, from firsthand experience, is that this was done by someone who had fun. Cruelty at its finest."
Mark raised an inquiring eyebrow to which Barak duly replied, "The knee shot incapacitated her, self-explanatory. Three shots to the stomach will kill, but she'd be dead very quickly. So, why are both her hands shot? My theory is they shot her knee to disable her. Then they hit her hands to stop her from handling the gun hence it laying beside her. The shoulder shot isn't coupled with the head and stomach wounds, so I assume it was separate at some point. Likely those four hits came first. The headshots were to confirm the kill, so the stomach shots were probably one at a time over some agonising minutes. To worsen the pain. I could be wrong, but we'll see what forensics and the coroner conclude."
He huffed deeply, "Shit. This is fucking horrific."
"Yeah. Not an ending the kids or Jenny deserved, despite her... faults. No dignity or painless release. Just barbaric suffering." The slender man turned around, "Come, Mark. No point in getting more sullen. Let the experts do their job, and we'll do ours."
'Surround yourself with people more intelligent than yourself. Guess Russo was right. Even with all my power, I can't do everything.'
Exiting the depressing building of death, Barak called his colleagues back inside. He turned to face Mark, "I'll meet you at yours in 10, 20 minutes. The team should be either set up or setting up in another massive industrial loft near yours. That good with you?"
"Yeah. That's good. I'll... see you there." Mark gloomily said, putting his hands in his jean pockets as he enveloped himself and flew upwards. He got home in seconds, slowing to stop the sonic boom before he stood on the pavement.
He entered his home, shaking his head as his hair curled due to the rain in the morning. The past few days had been entertaining as he worked on his telekinesis and visited popular tourist sites across the country. Stonehenge was the best experience; nothing but relaxation and calmness. Then today happened, reality hitting him like a brick.
Collapsing into his sofa, he mentally controlled the remote, the field pressing down on the power button. The TV flashed to life, a soap opera blaring out.
"What is this shite." He shook his head, "Alexandre, play channel 231."
The smart TV turned to the channel, a news programme starting as he listened. Hopefully, this would distract him from Jenny's death. Despite what she did, he still liked her. She did what she had to do to survive; he couldn't blame her there. But there's always another way.
{This is BBC News at 12:30, as Israel is rocked by aggressive Aaban deployment of its 23rd Battalion on the border. Protests have erupted in Afghanistan as yet another round of explosions occurred, making that the 9th in the past month. The state has yet to punish the terrorist group as the public calls for answers. More sightings of the flying humanoid Mark Evans have been spotted in southern England as he picked up food in Brighton and flew around London. And in Mexico, the Joaquin Cartel has taken ahold of two key towns in the east, with over 500 dead. American intervention forces are awaiting permission from the Mexican government to take action. All this, on your n-}
He rubbed his face in exasperation, "Fucking ridiculous. Why am I lumped in with all that? HAP, what's the Joaquin Cartel."
"They are a Cartel created 21 years ago by Carlos Joaquin in Spain. They have connections to Spanish organised crime, with trade routes running cocaine across the Atlantic and into South America, specifically Brazil. Would you like more information?" A female voice responded.
"Sure. What's their motto? Their goal? Or are they just barbaric cutthroats?"
"According to information obtained by Tayi's Security Force 2 years ago, they advocated for one faith across Central and Southern America. Alongside this, they heavily supported the One Nation Movement, specifically for a united Central and South America to combat US imperialism. Public support is thought to be high in several nations, including Mexico. The public argues they do better policing and are more honest with their dealings compared to the state and the regional police. However, their rule is as unquestioned as is their brutality."
He blew out air, "So they're criminals who think themselves, saviours or politicians? What're their chances of success?"
HAP paused for a considerable time, twenty seconds, before responding, "Around 61% without US intervention. They are supported by numerous European and Asian nations who wish to have a stronger and more united nation on America's border. The citizens are majorly in support, if not for the eventual ceasing of conflict. If the US intervenes, the chance drops to below 2%. Realistically, and according to all my present data, the US will interfere."
"So the people living there are expendable. Everyone's as shit as each other. Wha-"
His front door opened, left unlocked for ease of access for Barak as the white man's body came into view, "Everyone's here, Mark. You ready?"
In a mixture of nervousness and excitement, he responded, "Erm, yeah."
"Good. Let's go meet the team."