Illuminated Shadows

Chapter One

I'm not too fond of jobs like this. You know the ones that require you to acquire the target by all means necessary. However, I am not like everyone. I will do what I please and how I please, to hell with my employers.

The target should be coming out of those doors, but damn, any moment could mean I froze to my motorcycle, ass to leather. A sporty little car with heat would have been better for this venture. A car with seat warmers and cup heaters for drinks and all-around heat sound nice. I breathe warmth into my fingers. The night was bone-chilling, absolutely bone-chilling.

I watched the doors, lost in thoughts of warmth when I saw a black car roll down the block. They parked, but no one got out. Limo tint on the windows and proximity made my instincts skip a beat. The doors opened to the building, and the target walked out, oblivious to us. The car from a moment ago kicked on the engine and roared to intercept. I saw the window roll down, and then I went into automatic overdrive.

--

I love the cold. I especially love the way snow can cover everything and make a wonderland of white dust, almost like a fantasy. As I put my gloves on, I took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling like a small cloud of vapor plumed before my face, pausing to let it disappear into the cold night.

I heard the car, but I didn't hear the motorcycle. I turned just in time to see a big black machine zoom at me. I lunged to the side. I failed to see the gun pointed at me through the dark tinted window, and I could not begin to describe the sensation of the bullet as it passed through my shoulder. It was hot and blinding. I saw white behind my clenched eyelids. Then I heard more shots and listened to the car zoom off. I saw a hand reach down for mine. I took it. I didn't know why. I just felt that I needed to get anywhere but there.

As I climbed on the back of the motorcycle and I tried to wrap my arms around the driver's waist. I grunted in pain. The driver peeled out, and as they got into gear, a gloved hand reached back and brought my other hand to their waist. It hurt like the devil, but I could hold on a little safer. We zoomed through the streets. I could not see where I was going, and I didn't care. I put my head to their back and fell into darkness. I never knew where I was or how I got there. I only knew that I was going.

--

'Shit,' I silently cursed under my helmet. They hit the target. I did not want her to get hit but damn that car. I peeled out and flew through the city streets, and then I felt her weight give out to my back. I cursed again as she became unconscious.

I pushed a small button on the console of my bike, and up went a garage door in the warehouse district. I stopped the bike and then took off the helmet. My black hair flowed down to my waist. I grabbed the honey blonde and carried her up the stairs with effort. She was taller than I was. I leaned her against the wall and held her steady with my body as I punched in the code. Once through the door, I kicked the door shut. Taking her arm and placing it over my shoulders, we trudged through the room.

I laid her on the bed and presumed to undress my guest. I tended her wound and thanked the gods that the pain knocked her out cold as I dug out the bullet. I shook my head. She would be in a lot of pain when she woke up with all of the proddings I did to her shoulder. I cleaned it, dressed it, and then I found her something warm to wear.

Everything was quick, fast, and frantic. I was running on autopilot, which allowed my thoughts to flow. My mind kept going back to why. Why in the hell was I harboring my target? Wasn't I supposed to kill her? If my employer sent me, then why were the others there? Too many questions and not enough answers. I pulled the covers to her chin. I threw her clothes on a fire I stoked as I began to relax—less evidence to clean up.

After settling down, I was able to think able to act. I sighed, leaving the bed and looking at my target, my prey.

I shook my head as I walked to the kitchen to wash off the pliers and tweezers I used to dig out the bullet. They used a Glock 9mm. Anyone could have used a Glock. I placed the instruments in bleach to erase DNA, opened a cupboard, and brought the bottle and a little tumbler glass to the sitting area. I sat down on the leather couch and pulled the small glass of Johnny Walker Blue Label Whisky to my lips.

I took tiny sips, soothing sips letting the burn ease down to the pit of my stomach. I can taste the different malts and smell the amount of alcohol I could use to sanitize surgical tools. But old Johnny Walker and I go back, and I could let go for a few moments, never drunk but able to let reality skew. I could think, and I had too many thoughts and questions. I put the glass on the table and went to the phone. I dialed the number I remembered by heart. It rang and rang, but it finally picked up. On the other end of a telephone came a playful voice, almost that of a child, but if you knew her, you would know she isn't that innocent nor that young. I have no bosses, but if I had to say that I had one, it would have to be her and her mistress.

"Luna, is it done?" asked the playful, childlike voice.

"No, something came up," I said, and she knew that meant the target was no longer a target. She knew I would not kill this person without all of the facts.

"Ok, I will tell Saki. I will also tell her you will be here for dinner."

Click.

I looked at the phone, and then I looked at the woman's body on my bed and sighed. As I hung up the phone, I wrote a note to my captive.

Don't touch anything. I will be back shortly. Try to sleep.

I walked down the street for about six blocks and then turned left. Saki's Ramen House loomed right in front of me. It was just that. A ramen house, but only a very select few know what goes on in the back of Saki's. As I made my way through the door, the smell of food hit my senses, and I nearly groaned. I forgot to eat again. I went to the back of the house after waving to regulars with a smile plastered to my lips. Saki was cooking up a storm in the back, and she loved to cook. She looked my way and then smiled but kept cooking.

The body that belonged to the childlike voice went up to Saki, kissed her cheek, and stole a bowl.

"Yoko!" chided Saki, and then she smiled.

For a Hitman organization, we certainly are a bunch of happy people. I shook my head as Saki shoved a bowl in my hands and motioned me to sit with Yoko. It was always an experience watching Yoko eat Saki's food. She will not eat anything else, and I guess that makes them the perfect pair. Yoko and be a killing machine, and Saki can control her and be the mastermind. It is one thing organizing Yoko and me as her band of killers, but Saki always felt that food was a way to warm the soul and cleanse the mind. Saki yelled out an order and let a blue-haired boy take over her job. Saki reached in her pocket and threw a wad of cash bound in a rubber band at me. I caught it without looking up. Why was Saki paying me for a job half done?

"Do you know who she is?" Saki asked as she took a sip of her juice. Ever since she got drunk, she was a lousy drunk. She drove my prized Ducati off a ridge, and because of that, she doesn't drink as much. She kept asking herself, what if Yoko was on the motorcycle with her. I shook my head, and she smiled.

"I am quite happy you haven't killed her, Luna. She is Kumiko Fukushima, heiress to the Fukushima fortune and one of the most respected businesswomen to walk the planet. She would have power even if she didn't bear the name Fukushima." I shrugged. I didn't see what this had to do with me.

"In that sum of cash I just gave you is triple what you contracted for," she said, and I choked on ramen, "Triple for the fact that you are not only to not kill her but protect her."

"What!" I yelled and placed my palms on the table, and stood.

"Yup. Guess what? This assignment is a career change for you. You are now her bodyguard," Saki said sweetly and calmly.

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

I fumbled for words, and then Saki spoke.

"You have no reason to go against me, Luna. I love you, you know that, but I also want you to do this for me as a favor. Do you understand?" I hesitated for a second, and then Saki tossed another roll of hundreds on the table. I got up, placed my chopsticks on the table, and walked to the door without looking at Saki.

"Keep your money. I do owe you," I shout over my shoulder over the clings and clangs of the kitchen.

I walked out of Saki's, looked to the sky, and exhaled. The snow fell at a fantastic rate, and I listened to my feet crunch all the way home. My thoughts provided the lyrics for the ambient sound of boots on the icy sidewalks.

I entered my loft. I stood in place, lost. How can I, a killer, take care of someone, guard someone? I walked over to the sleeping woman. I can't help but think this is a mistake. I shook my head, went to the sofa, and grabbed a blanket. Maybe sleep would help.

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