"Seven, report status."
"Accomplished. Both target deceased."
Silence. For all I know, they must be cursing at me from their bulletproof office. 'Cowards'
"Copy." the man on my ear said calmly.
I had just killed the man who murdered my mother. I should be happy, but there was something in how that man looked at me. That evil, snarly grin he showed before I planted a bullet in his head irritated me.
I held the microchip in my hand. 'Think Catalina,' I cursed under my breath.
'The Project hired me to kill Target Z; why?' 'Who wants target Z dead?'
'Who was Boss Chen working for, and why did he meet up with the target?'
'How did he know what my parents looked like?'
'Why did he give me this microchip?'
"Cheif," I mumbled, addressing the man behind my implanted headphone. "The mafia lord I just killed. Do you know him?"
"Seven, we don't ask questions. We only follow orders." he replied. "The organization will clean after the mess. You don't have to worry about a thing."
I chuckled. Something is amiss here.
"Then my job here is done. I need the money transferred asap." I replied, more confused than I had ever before.
If there was one thing I learned from working underground, it is that if you want to know the answers, you must extrapolate them yourself.
I deactivated the program on the handheld cell I was given for this mission and threw it at the garbage bin next to where I was walking. That means the communication that was implanted on me when I was project-in-training will be offline. I won't be able to hear them, they won't be able to hear me-at least that was what I was told, but I didn't believe it one bit.
As a project, I am the organization's property. A humanoid experiment they can access and order anytime they want.
I lifted the hoodie on my oversized jacket as I walked through Prague's cold, wet night. Making sure no one was following me, I turned at every spot where there were CCTVs and exited to places of blind spots.
Being a killer for hire over the years, I understood that when you want to be seen, you make them see you. Then, you evaporate, only leaving crumbs of trail you wanted the people in search of you to decipher.
I need to get away quickly. I entered my pin into the public locker at the busiest underground train station. If my computations are correct, I'd be meeting the one that will crack this chip in 16 hours.
Hopefully, this will give me enough time before the project discovers that their last humanoid went rogue.
The organization will do anything in their power to eliminate rouge projects. This happened to Project 1. The headmistress of the raining camp said that project 1 was assigned to a mission, flipped his switch and went rogue. The organization not only eliminated him, but also his family.
I grabbed my escape bag- bags I put everywhere in every country possible if I needed a quick escape- and headed to the public bathroom.
I took a knife from my handy bag and slit the back of my ear open.
'Fuck. This is more painful than I anticipated.'
Blood gushed from the incision as I inserted my finger to locate and extract the device embedded in me.
I groaned as I yanked the device out of me. I have 24 hours till the organization puts a tab on my head. I wiped the blood around my neck and flushed all that had my DNA down the toilet.
That's the thing about being a project; I had access to all new weapons and technology available in the market- underground market included. When the organization find something they think will improve their human weapons' murdering-spying skills, they get them— or should I say they put it on you. Like this little piece of shit of a metal that was surgically implanted on me.
The Project is basically a science experiment tested on people like me. Some die in the process, others are murdered in combat training. When I was on training, there were 12 of us; I was the only one that made it alive.
What worked on Project 1 was passed down to Project 2, making the next 'Project' better and more modified than the last.
It's part of the whole modus operandi. 'Out with the old and in with the new.' I was the newest; the last project, Seven.
I put on my fake and transparent thumbprints and my digitally formatted contact lenses. I then grabbed the phone I modified myself years ago. Encrypted with codes only the best of the best can access.
Best being me and the one I will be meeting soon. I have never seen him nor made contact since five years ago. The only time we, the hacker and I, interacted was when the organization asked me to find out who hacked the pentagon. Yes. The pentagon.
He got into the pentagons data and threatened to mass-release secrets that could create what could have been another world war. The amusing thing was that this cyberpunk had no hidden agenda- at least, I believed. He just wanted to make an impression, and he did.
After making his threats, he disappeared into the dark web. No compensations, no requests- vanished just like that.
He was on the FBI's death list after that. 'Top Priority' was noted on his file.
The organization tasked me to track him down- corrupt all his files, and eliminate the infamous hacker. I was able to locate him, a triumph on its own since no other person was able to, but I was not able to corrupt his file.
After several failed attempts, I sent him a coded electronic message with one thing in mind: 'if you can't beat them, join them.'
****
'Pentagon hired me to kill you.'
'You can't find me. No one can.'
'I can.' I attached his address.
'Why am I still alive?'
'Because it's not your time yet.'
'Why are you doing this?'
'I will let you know soon.'
I reported him dead after that. He kept low, away from the eyes of the pentagon as I told him to, and I have not made contact with him since.
After updating my phone, I checked the items on my bag; a gun, knife, a pack of gum, a stack of cash, a passport, and IDs consistent with my new identity.
I got out of the bathroom and headed to the tram that would lead me to my abettor.
The train ride was long. Nevertheless, it gave me some time to sleep. I won't be getting enough sleep soon. '2 more hours till the system will notify them that I went offline and who knows how long it will take them to track down their rogue project.'
I was welcomed by the scorching heat of the sun. I looked around the area— calmly and discreetly surveying and spotting surveillance on the street.
I checked my phone; no alerts yet, so I scurried to the address I had memorized. Leaving any history of my current endeavor can eradicate my plan. Others don't realize, but everyone's movements are watched, noted, and recorded every time you touch your phone.
Despite being confident that my phone is bug-free, I could never be too sure. I don't want this mission alienated.
I waited 20 years for this. I trained myself to hopefully, one day, put my mom's murder to rest. I endured years of being tortured and experimented on, thinking of nothing but the day I shoved a bullet off that man's head.
But that bastard's smirk, 'Argh,' I clenched my jaw. Just when I thought killing him would be the end of it— the game had just started.
I entered the village with my head down, integrating with the crowd. It's an overpopulated community, a better version of the slum I grew up but slum nonetheless. Why would a genius hacker live in such a condition? I'm about to find out.
"I'm here to collect the debt your dad owed," I said as I knocked on the door.
A tall, skinny boy with a dark tan and curly hair opened the door. "My dad doesn't live here. You're in the wrong address."
"No. I'm at the right address." I hissed. The lanky boy turned and was about to close the door, "Pentagon seven." I whispered as I saw the boy freeze in front of me.
I can't believe my eyes. Could the pentagon hacker be this teenager? This must be a ploy. I grabbed the gun hiding behind my back, ready to retaliate.
"Get in," the scrawny boy said.
I scanned the area using my modified eyewear—no other thermal recognition. I relaxed as I stepped in.
"I can't believe my savior is a woman," he exclaimed. "I have been dreading to meet you." He said, rubbing the skin behind his neck.
I did my 360 assessment of his house, unwashed dishes piled on top of his sink; cold pizza on his table.
There were two doors- one I believed was the bathroom, and the other was the lair.
"I'm Rav, by the way. What's your name?"
"You live like a teenager," I scoffed as I walked around his narrow living space. "What are you? 16?"
"Close. I'm 19." He beamed, his eyes still not living mine.
"19? Gosh!" I said in amusement, "You were fourteen when you hacked the pentagon; I'm impressed." I looked at the boy, and for a quick second, I was reminded of the things I had to endure at 19. My heart ached for the boy.
"How old are you?" He asked.
"None of your business."
"So, what's your business?" Sarcasm was profound in his voice.
"This," I put the microchip on the table. Rav grabbed and examined the device. His eyes widened.
"Is this the .1 bit? Where did you get this?" Rav held the chip next to his ceiling light. "I can't believe I'm holding this right now." He giggled like a little boy.
"I want you to decipher it," I said as I opened his fridge. "Is this clean water?" I asked as I held the cold pitcher filled with clear fluid.
He raised his brow. "That's water, yes." He answered after some time.
I drank straight from the pitcher; the tap water was cold and refreshing. It's been 16 hours since I had water; I didn't want to risk leaving my DNA on the train.
"Okay, so what did you say again?" He said while watching me gulp the water down my throat.
"It holds top secret information about the black market, possibly about 'the project' and government cover-ups. I want you to decipher what's in that chip."
"I thought 'the project was a myth?" He said, taking enough time to register the things I just had told him.
"So was the moon landing. Are you going to help me or what? I don't have a lot of time."
A sudden knock made us both jump. I instinctively took hold of my gun and pointed it by the door.
"Holy Shit, you have a gun," Rav whispered.
I discreetly made my way by the side of the door and ordered Rav to open it. My lenses indicated a person holding a thermal object.
"Do not open the door all the way," I demanded as he followed my command nervously. I glanced as his shaking hand twisted the doorknob. This kid has no combat skills.
"Delivery for Rav? Here's the lunch combo you ordered," the man behind the door reached the warm food into Rav's hand. "Have a good day." The man walked away.
Rav looked at me with a playful grin, "I forgot I ordered lunch," the folds on his eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Are you hungry?"
"Sure," My stomach growled in approval.
Rav handed me a plateful of food. I ate aggressively.
"After you're done eating, let's figure this thing out," I uttered as I watched Rav carelessly and leisurely enjoy his lunch.