The assassin sat on the edge of the roof, letting their legs dangle in the air. A violin case sat empty next to them, the instrument itself in their hands. The music they played drifted down to the streets three stories below. A slow and haunting tune that caught a person's ear and roped them in. Already, a small crowd had gathered below, wondering who the strange person was, sitting without a care on the edge of a building.
With a flourish, the assassin finished the final note in the song, stood, and executed a short bow. As the crowd gave them a round of applause, they packed their violin in its case, laying a small cloth on top of the instrument before closing their case and slipping it onto their back. There was a fire escape on the back of the building, which they used to get up to the roof, and they used it now to get to the last platform, and sat on its rail, waiting.
As they waited, they pulled out a phone. They were going to need a new job soon, and the next family reunion wasn't for a few months; they needed to keep the boredom away. They'd received a notification as he'd played, but didn't want to stop for a message. A single post in the Gray Law from a RainxHailxSnow stated needing a level four assassin. For a necklace? Why not, they thought. I need something odd to keep things interesting.
Right as they posted the reply, a well-dressed woman came into the alley, rushing as fast as possible in her heels, closely followed by three men dressed in the fitted suits of a bodyguard. "Miss," started one, "don't you think you're overreacting to a simple violinist? I fail to see the reason for you running away from them."
The woman stumbled and turned on the man. "That is not ‘simple violinist’, Howard. Have you never heard of a Scriptor?" The look in her eyes was one of terror and her voice was pitched at a high note. The assassin chuckled, she was scared enough that a toddler could yell BOO! at her, and send her digging her own hole six feet under.
The bodyguards shrugged, and looked at each other in confusion. Howard cleared his throat, "Isn't that Latin or something? Like, scribe or writer or something?"219Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoGeQvXX4pN
"You are correct, Mr. Howard," the Scriptor said from their perch on the rail, startling everyone below. "I'm almost sorry that I have to kill you." And without another word, they launched from their perch down on the people below.
-----> Nicole replied:
I'm interested. Tell me more.
The Sydney Opera House was quiet this time of night, with only a security guard attending the front desk. The place was quiet and dark, and besides, who would want to break into a theater?
Emilie slowly applied her black lipstick as she smirked at the guard in front of her.
“Listen, mister, I’d love to let you go, but you’d just get in my way, and we can’t have that, can we?”
The tied-up guard shook his head, the duct-tape over his mouth preventing any coherent speech.
Emilie capped her lipstick and checked her appearance in the mirror behind the desk. Satisfied, she turned and gingerly stepped over the assault rifle lying on the floor beside the guard, her combat boots thudding quietly on the concrete floor.
“You weren’t supposed to be here, were you?”
The guard shook his head again.
Emilie huffed and blew a strand of her strawberry blond hair out of her face. “Come on, man. I hate it when I have to kill people. Now I gotta blow you up!”
The man’s eyes widened. Emilie laughed, her short black skirt swishing.
“Kidding, I kid, I swear. I’ll get you out of here, don't worry.” She bent down and grabbed the man by his belt. “I’m gonna throw you into the harbor after I untie you, and then you’re gonna swim away, got it?” she asked as she dragged the guard through the building. He nodded, relief flooding his features. “Nice. Hope you don’t drown!” Emilie grinned, pinning the man against the railing and cutting off his bindings. “Good luck!” And with that, she flipped him over the railing and sent him hurtling into Sydney Harbour.
“Now, let’s get down to business,” she smiled, rubbing her leather-gloved hands together.
She skipped around the building, placing charges and unwinding detonator cord as she went.
Man, she thought, this sure beats jail!
Charges set, she dashed to the front of the building, where her detonator was waiting. As she was hooking up the wires, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
“Who’s calling me at two in the morning?” she muttered to herself, pulling her phone out. The caller ID read “Mira Sanford”. Emilie pressed accept and held the phone to her ear.
“Hey, it’s my favorite hacker! What’s up?” she asked.
“Just wanted to let you know that you officially don’t exist! Emilie Longheart is now a figment of people’s imagination.”
“Oh, sick!” Emilie responded. “Who am I now? Better not be as dumb as the one before Emilie. I swear, if it’s another pun like Shanda Lear was, I will blow you up.”
She heard a snorted laugh through the phone’s small speakers. “Please. That was one time. You’re Twain Edwards now.”
“Twain Edwards… Huh,” she whispered. “Not bad. Okay, I like it. Nice job on this one, Mira.”
“Yeah, well, the next one’s free, You’ve gotten four erasures, so your fifth is at no extra cost.”
It was Emilie — Twain, now — Twain’s turn to laugh. “You have deals for these things?”
“I gotta keep my customers happy.”
“Right. Well, I gotta go. Pressing matters to attend to.”
“What are you exploding this time?”
“The Opera House. It was a good-paying job, and besides, I hate opera.”
“Alright. Talk to you later. Bye.” And with that, Mira hung up.
Twain pulled on a pair of black noise-canceling headphones and checked the detonator one last time. Satisfied with her work, her thumb hovered over the button that would send the building crashing into the harbor. Just as she was about to push it, her phone rang again.
“Come on!” she groaned, frustrated. She pulled out her phone again, connecting the bluetooth with her headphones. “What now, Mira?”
“I just saw an ad on The Gray Law. It’s a team job, reclaiming a necklace. They need a hacker, a driver, an assassin, and a distraction! I’ll send you the link.”
Her black-colored lips stretched into a grin as her thumb depressed the detonator.
“Kaboomski,” she whispered. Running to her motorcycle, Twain revved the engine and sped off, the Sydney Opera House exploding in an orange fireball behind her.
“Twain? You still there?”
“Yeah, Mira. I’ll see you soon.”
-----> 💣 I’m_In_Twain replied:
A distraction? Heck yeah!
Her eyes darted from screen to screen. Two of her screens were about to make a woman disappear from the world while the other had a university lecture about security. Mira was much more interested in deleting data from private servers and hacking into government "security" servers.
After aggressively tapping her mouse for five minutes a small file on someone named "Emilie Longheart" or "Prisoner 856343" disappeared. Just to make sure she had done her job right she researched the name in the government files and then a few more sites. Nothing came up.
She reached her client and then informed the woman that she was free and if she needed help again to reach out again. Mira had enjoyed this little job not only had helped a woman out but also had the honour of giving her a new name. She had looked around and decide on "Twain Edwards".
"Yessss!" She cheered,
It only took her a few hours but either way, she felt accomplished. In her happiness, Mira also decided to hack some guy's debit card and buy herself a pizza with anchovies and a big box of doughnuts.
While waiting for her feast she opened a new tab and typed in "The Grey Law" looking for a few new jobs. It's not like she needed the money but more so to cure her boredom. Even though she was a full time student she knew everything already. Doing uni was to make her resume look nicer. That was it.
"Level three hacker needed to get into the Prime Minister's voice mails,"
One application read, Mira looked at it for a few minutes pondering hacking into the guys phone for the fifth time. After some thinking she scrolled away. Things like this were beginning to become boring for her. The same jobs over and over again. Until something caught her eye.
"Main Mission: Reclaim a necklace"
Now, this was interesting. . . .Mira had never worked in a team and really wanted something new so she tapped reply and sent her reply.
-----> 👾MirAculous replied:
Oh, I’ve got the perfect hacker for you! It’s me. Would love to join!
Engines roared and smoke flew into their eyes as Steve watched cars speed off one by one. A 2am race, and he thought he was done with this shit.
But it seems like all good things are never meant to last. Like money.
He picked at his fingernails and watched the crevices bleed. He was up next, and his car was in position. Up comes a woman, annoyingly tall with dirty blond hair and that classic smirk.
“Steve,” she acknowledged, standing next to him, and watching the bets being placed.
“Layla.”
“Thought I’d never see you here again. Not after those big wins you pulled off in November.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, not having gotten a look at her face yet.
“Still a man of few words. Let me guess, you gambled it all away?”
He watched the newcomers with their fancy new toys pull up to the start. His car sat looking like it had seen war compared to those new ones.
“That’s not for you to say,” he finally replied, putting on his racing gloves.
“You did, didn’t you?” She looked at Steve.
“I did.”
And with that, stretching out his fingers in those flaking leather gloves, he walked forward. Layla chucked and went to her car. And he'd been driving the same thing for years. But sometimes one beater can’t handle everything. It’s blown up on him plenty of times, but he just keeps coming back for more.
He tried to open his car door as nicely as everyone else. It wouldn’t budge, and he looked around as people watched him struggle. He gave up and yanked it open. I’m too old for this.
Steve sat down inside. He started to wonder what would happen if he gave up. Gave up on racing. Gave up on gambling. What would happen then?
He wanted a purpose. He was done going solo. He missed not having someone to rely on. A team. Steve turned his head and looked at Layla. She caught him looking and winked as she flipped the bird.
Never mind.
The kids pulled up next to him. Looked to be straight out of high school. “You ready, old man?” shouted a young kid with a shit-eating smile. He laughed and revved his engine. Steve just looked forward.
The flags went down. He stepped on the pedal, but some kids were already ahead of him. Steve swore as he felt his car accelerate, but it wasn’t fast enough. As his car passed other cars, Layla sped by him with record speed. He passed by the other kid, but Layla was still ahead.
Steve knew it. He knew it from the start. He was done for. Layla was long gone, and his beater had come in second. In these races, if you’re not first, you’re last.
He got out of his car, knowing this might have been the last race he was ever going to take part in. Steve watched as Layla took the money. She could eat tonight. Maybe buy herself something nice. He took his gloves off and threw them on the asphalt.
Maybe it was time to take his foot off the pedal. He got in his car. Maybe it was time to try something new. As the streetlights flew over him, he felt the scar on his neck. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Maybe it was time he finally gave up. Steve had been driving since his feet could reach the pedal.
His phone lit up. He picked it up when he stopped at a red light, as he got a notification from that odd site.
“Recruits needed. . .experienced driver,” Steve mumbled to himself. The light turned green. Maybe it wasn’t time I took my foot off the pedal.
-----> 🚘 Steverly Good Driver replied:
You need a good driver? I'm in.
🌈 RainxHailxSnow posted:
MAIN MISSION: Reclaim a necklace
Recruits needed:
- Level 3 hacker
- Level 4 assassin
- Experienced driver
- Distraction
Reward: 750 AD each
If interested please reply to this post or dm me.
219Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9LgJPO6ZjT
-----> Nicole replied:
I'm interested. Tell me more.
-----> 👾MirAculous replied:
Oh, I’ve got the perfect hacker for you! It’s me. Would love to join!
-----> 💣 I’m_In_Twain replied:
A distraction? Heck yeah!
-----> 🚘 Steverly Good Driver replied:
You need a good driver? I'm in.
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