5 feet near the entrance to the alleyway, she slowed down her pace and looked around curiously as she walked. She kept looking back, prepared to speed up if she saw the man again. He never came.
She turned right, then right again, then again one more time. She saw the sedan and was thinking about her partner and the mission. She looked at their parked car. No one was in it. The Cadet probably saw a lead and chased after it. He'd return eventually. She focused on the sedan again. Found a good vantage point that was hard to spot but easy to leave from.
Her ears twitched. The sound of a shot fired. Extremely quiet. Silencer. Like the one her partner carried for silent ops. They usually didn't resort to killing unless. The target had to be a low-level thug that was easily forgotten or someone in a dangerous position who they couldn't afford to have moving around. The military would cover their a** if it was the latter.
Another shot was fired. Multiple high-level criminals wouldn't travel together.
A third shot was fired. Maybe a dangerous criminal and two of his thugs?
The door opened. Her partner got out. A shot hit the door. He got back in. She turned. A speeding car.
(Bom)
(Bom)
The sound of a car horn. It was speeding towards the sedan. Her partner didn't get out. It started swerving. She pulled out a gun and aimed at the tires. The shots were missing. She panicked. Got a closer look at the car.
The youngster! His hands were everywhere, very chaotic. He shot at the windows of the car, inside the car inside, the back. When he turned around, he rolled down the windows and began shouting again.
Incoherent phrases.
What language was that?
Italian?
German?
It wasn't one that she knew. Sounded a bit odd. Maybe eastern European? She kept aiming and kept shooting, but the swerving made it impossible to land a hit.
She took a deep breath. Prayed. Prayed that her partner would be fine. The car made a frantic turn at the last second, its front bumper smashing into the car, followed by the side. The sedan flipped over, but the smasher teetered on its side before landing safely. It sped off, gone in the next moment as it turned around a corner.
Her heart sank as she ran for the sedan. She bent down and assessed the damage. It was damaged all around. Not good. She knocked on the window.
(Pause)
There was a return knock. Her partner was alive! She wound her arm and smashed the window with her elbow. It took several tries before the glass shattered. Both his arms were injured. Not light, but not overly serious. With a bit of rest, it would heal.
"What happened?" he asked, daze.
"Some moronic idiot hit the car," she replied.
"Damn. Did he get away? What the hell was with that?" he said angrily.
"Hit and run. Was a youngster. Looked panicky," she replied.
"Did he have any connection with these buffoons?" he asked.
"Not sure. Just looked angry, in a rush, desperate," she recollected.
"USB stick?" he remembered, asked in a whisper.
"Yes," she muttered.
"Good, where's that Cadet we were supposed to take along? He asked.
"Probably found a lead, chased it. He'll return," she responded.
"Mission success, I think," he smiled.
"Yeah," she nodded.
She pulled him out, brought him to the car, and patched him up. Following that, she waited for the Cadet to return.
——|——|—|—|——|——
[Gary's Automobiles]
Sikhail was deep in a trash dump, burning a sweater. He watched it turn into ash between kicking it with his foot. It scattered into the wind, never to be seen again. He turned around and found the exit. He pulled up his phone and called a number.
"Hello? Sikhail? Your lead's a bust, right? I got the USB drive," a youthful voice replied.
"Yeah. You got lucky," Sikhail chuckled.
"Where are you? How soon will you be back? Or do you want us to pick you up?" she asked.
"I'm at a garbage dump near Gary's Automobiles at Fekton," Sikhail replied.
"I know where it is. Just wait for me there. The shop, not the garbage dump," she responded.
"Alright," Sikhail answered.
He ended the call and began the trek toward the store. It was clear to him earlier that the middle-aged man was an extreme amateur. That was his gut feeling based on the demeanor and behavior displayed. He knew the man would have an iron-tight grip on the USB drive.
The rest was history. He just had to listen to the *melody of slaughter*. That wasn't the name. It didn't have a name. He didn't want to give it a name. It was more of a collection of feelings that he really liked and wanted to explore and follow through to the end. He was blessed enough to be able to curate the selection and select the melodies he personally liked.
One new development was the character acting. He didn't know how to act. He didn't need to or care for acting. Somehow, he embodied the perfect actor just by listening. It seemed.
Way too simple?
Sometime later, the modified dragon-fang pulled up to the curve. The window rolled down to a young lady smiling at him.
"Keep doing these, and you'll become a pro in no time," she teased.
Sikhail nodded, opening the door as he got in. A youthful man, the seasoned veteran, was looking at him, nodding.
"What happened to him?" Sikhail asked.
"A crazy f**king psycho ran into me and drove off," he said with hatred.
"Oh. Are you going to be alright?" Sikhail asked.
"Some surgery and a few days rest, and I'll be fine. Stray bullet hit the handle and jammed the door," he explained.
"Oh," Sikhail said with a grim tone.
"Don't worry about it. Stuff like that is more common than you think. Military has the best doctors!" she reassured Sikhail.
Sikhail nodded.
The dragon-fang eased into traffic and drove off into the distance
——|——|—|—|——|——
[A Few Days Later, Residential Apartment above Pasta Shop on Tektile Street]
A middle-aged man was kneeling, his palms touching the ground and forehead level with the knees in front of him. He stayed in that position for ages, not budging or moving.
In front of him was a glass-eyed old man holding a cane. He was drinking hot chocolate and eating a tuna sandwich. Every time he bit down, pieces of flesh flew like spitting out of his mouth. It landed on the middle-aged man's head, but he didn't react. The old man took another bite before setting the sandwich down on the man's head.
"Do you know what you were handing off?" the glass-eyed old man asked.
(Silence)
"Never mind. We have a spare copy, but I trusted you. You told me to allow you to prove how good you were. So what's this?" the glass-eyed old man said, confused.
(More silence)
"The people who trusted me with that. So I trusted you with that. Who knows where that information is going to show up. Doesn't it prove my incompetence? Do you think I'm incompetent?" the glass-eyed old man asked.
The old man turned to the side. A quiet young man was playing with a dagger. Sensing the stare, the young man looked up, nodding.
"I'll take care of it, gramps," the young man responded.
"Am I your f**king gramps? How come I didn't know?" the glass-eyed old man asked.
"I'll figure out what happened and chase down some leads," the young man smiled.
"Look here. This young chap is going to do your job properly. If he can't find anything, off with your head. Do you want that?" the glass-eyed old man asked.
"No," the middle-aged man finally responded.
"Now get up and go with him. You said a young lady in a blouse and skirt was following you?" the glass-eyed old man asked.
"She was behind me before that crazy kid shot at me. The USB drive flew up, and I don't know where it landed after that," the middle-aged man replied.
"The kid definitely didn't take it. Maybe that young lady found it and picked it up. You said she was also gone when you looked?" the glass-eyed old man asked.
"Yes. I wouldn't know for sure if she picked it up. She didn't pay attention and crashed into me. She tried to help me pick up my things. I don't think it was her," the middle-aged man thought about it and answered.
"And then someone crashed into the car of the person you were supposed to meet," the glass-eyed old man asked.
"I eventually found the car, and it was totaled. No clue who did it," the middle-aged man replied.
"Alright, go with Ryan and look at the scene. Find any leads and track them down. If you can't find the USB stick, I'll behead you. I don't being incompetent," the glass-eyed old man commanded.
"Yes!" the middle-aged man gritted his teeth in response.
"You can leave after I finish this sandwich. I don't like interruptions," the glass-eyed old man remarked.