Chapter 6: The Hitman

Chapter 6: The Hitman
I am in my third year in the business, a hired-to-kill business—a hitman. I am polishing my skills while digging for more information about the men who owed me my family blood.

Right now, I have a deal that if I make it to bring down Dandelion, I will have better access to higher and more powerful clients who can provide me with more profound information by taking Dandelion’s place as their bounty hunter.

I was challenged as I was being briefed on how impressive this Dandelion seemed to be.

I had a hint that my target was a woman, referring to the codename she has, but when I saw her picture, I was taken aback. There were so many faces to her name. I was not sure if I had seen one of them somewhere before. I was confused about how I was going to approach her if she constantly changed her face. 

One time, I saw her walking into a building with casual lady jeans only covering half her thighs, but I had been watching the surveillance footage from all possible entrances and exits. I did not see the same person come out. I reviewed the whole footage. She came out with a very sophisticated business lady suit without concealing her face. She just changed the hair length and color, and it completed her disguise already. She was unrecognizable. That day, I lost sight of her.

All of a sudden, today, I got a tip that she was in the neighborhood. I quickly found her. Beating the life out of five men, tied them all up, and with her in tight jeans pants, she sat slumped on the floor as she asked them what she wanted to know. She left them alive but bound. I followed her at a safe distance, not to be noticed, and saw her go into a bar. It was only late afternoon, but she looked so pissed and needed booze. I waited for a good thirty minutes before I got inside and sat next to her at the bar. She was indeed having that booze I thought she needed. I didn’t know how to start a conversation with her. With all my frustrations, I decided to order a glass of whiskey.

“Whiskey, please?” 

Then she sighed deeply. And to my astonishment, she spoke about having a long day. I looked around to see if she was talking to someone else. The bartender was at the far end. I was the only one close to hearing her say anything. The other customers, who were only a few, were seated at the table at a wide distance from the bar where we were sitting.

And a flow of our conversation started. I was even able to ask her what it would cost me to ask for her help. She said it might cost me. I convinced her I was willing to pay anything as long as I could. She asked me to tell her what services I needed while she thought about the compensation she would ask for in return for her services. I didn’t think it was a good place to discuss such matters, so I asked her if we could find another place to talk. She asked me a very ambiguous question. I was caught off guard. Words seemed to jam inside my throat.

“Your place or mine?” I was speechless. Surprised and totally gobsmacked. I was not even able to say anything before she decisively added another shocking statement.

“Mine then, let’s go!”

Then she got up from her seat after leaving a few hundred bills under her glass. She must be a regular here to know how much to pay. I had to hurry and ask the bartender how much and pay, then rush out to follow her. I saw her walking to the main street. She must be thinking about taking a cab. But before we could even get halfway, a few men blocked our way.

She was mine to take; I wouldn’t earn anything if somebody else took her away, so I wrapped an arm around her. But she gently guided me to the side and whispered for me to call a ride while she dealt with them. I had no choice; I didn’t want to make my intentions obvious, so I complied with her suggestions.

I have heard she is not to be underestimated. And I saw it with my own eyes. She is young. Or at least a few years younger than I am. But her techniques are not those of someone with poor knowledge defending herself and making her offenders regret provoking her. I am sure she had a good drink. She almost finished a bottle of bourbon at the bar. But she can still fight without even the slightest difficulty. She is amazing! I admit. She is, as the rumors say, she is. Ruthless. A woman without mercy towards her enemy. I can tell she is not an awful person based on how she considered my request despite the clear and irrefutable fact that we are total strangers. She is not even aware I am after her life. Or is she?

How am I going to win against her? I am confident in my combat skills. But as a soldier, I also have principles of my own, even on my hit gigs. I am willing to take a person down when the target is considered a destructive disease in society. Abusers. Molesters. Drug dealers. Human traffickers and sorts. But what makes it so difficult for me is the lack of information that convinces me she is someone to be brought down. Suppose I can even make it. The ability is one thing, but the reason and purpose of such goals are equally significant. How can I end her life when, like me, she is after those who help needy people get justice through other means? We have some similarities. I just don't know what brought her to this path.