Mithrandirxx
The assassin, without a code name or legend of his own, looked down the steadily descending hill towards the grand old church in the North side of Ayenee Capital city. It was a grand cathedral but in Yevgeny's opinion it was a waste of valuable space in a city where sin and money ruled far above any deity. He blended in well on the busy streets of the bustling metropolis with even steps he descended the hill towards the cathedral. His tan trench coat tied at the waist prevented the eyes of the curious from seeing the minor armory he carried with him.
It was a gloomy Monday morning the sky's gray haze had been the same for the last few days since the recent fires in the business districts. As his hard soled boots slapped the concrete of the sidewalk his eyes keep their solid gaze upon the facade of the Cathedral. As he reached the steps to the main doors he smiled brightly as he pulled them open. The church was all but empty a few elderly women kneeling in the front pews and another one lighting a candle for someone she had lost.
A Priest was in the confessional waiting for someone to admonish for their sins and give them a task or two to perform to get back in favor with their deity. As the door closed behind Yevgeny the two older women turned on their knees to look at the new comer while the women lighting her candle was too concerned with her grief to pay any heed to one entering. Yevgeny gave a curt nod to the women in the front pew as he moved around the massive pillars that held the high ceiling in place. His blue eyes shimmered in the low light as he pretended to kneel before the picture of one of the older deities that was placed upon the pillar. As he kneeled his hand slipped into his pocket pulling out a small three inch by three inch, by two inch chunk of semtex pushing it to the base of the pillar he smiled before standing up and moving to the next pillar and repeating the process. After placing the charges on the pillars he smirked as he moved across the cathedrals interior towards the confessional. As he opened up the door he took his seat and waited for the priest to speak.
The Priest mildly angry that he would have to deal with yet another confession set down his magazine and spoke clearly to Yevgeny " Welcome my son what do you have to confess, the Lord Mar Tor'k forgives all his servants, what are your transgressions? " a moment of silence passed with no more than the sounds of the two's breathing before the priest spoke again " Are you so shamed by your transgressions that you cannot speak of them?" Yevgeny cleared his throat and spoke "I have lead people to their gods, your god, and others I have shown them the only true path" he said coldly. The Priest narrowed his eyes upon the screen as he saw something flash briefly through the screen but assumed it to be merely the other mans glasses before speaking " Then you have not transgressed but done the work of the Lord, although all should pay homage to the Lord Mar Tor'k so I shall set before you a task that our Lord would find suitable for one who has led others to lesser gods."
As the priest gave some thought to the task he should set upon this man he felt a sudden pinch in his chest just above his sternum the pain was intense. Opening his eyes and looking down he saw a knife buried deep in his chest. A hand in a black leather glove was connected to the handle of the knife which had been shoved through the screen. The Priest tried to scream but found he could not gather the breath to even whimper. For a moment nothing seemed to happen the priest’s heart could be heard clearly in the confessional as it was beating so fast. As he began to fall into shock he heard his killer speak clearly the last words he would ever hear again. "I am sending you to your god may it be the one you wasted your life serving"
The Priest slumped as Yevgeny pulled the knife out of the preacher’s chest and cut a message into his skin that said "I am with my god now!" Yevgeny slipped the knife back and wiped the blood off on the priest’s hair. As he eased the knife back through the screen he placed it back in its sheath. Turning in his stance he pushed the door open and looked into the cathedral seeing the two elderly women still kneeling in prayer. Slowly he made his way to sit behind them on the pew.
As he sat he looked at the elderly women holding desperately on to icons of their god as if it would protect them from death. His hand slid into his coat as he grasped the butt of his Glock25. He drew it out slowly before aiming at the woman on the right and squeezing back the trigger. As the bullet left his gun and punched through the head of the woman leaving a small hole where it entered but where it exited was a massive hole where once the elderly woman's face had once been. The other woman started to scream but was cut short as a second bullet scrambled her brain. The woman who had been praying over the candle she had lit earlier screamed in horror at the blood soaked statue of the main deity of the Cathedral and the two women who had slumped forward dripping blood upon the fine carpet. Yevgeny stood up looking at her a long time before he closed in on her. Her fear had taken hold she was paralyzed with it. Smirking a bit he Aimed his gun not at her head but at her knees. Easing back his trigger he fired two shots into her right knee. The pain seemed to have awakened her survival instinct but just a little late. Yevgeny aimed at her other leg, as she began to beg and blubber about how she had so much to live for and how she wouldn't tell anyone what she had seen, but the bullets were fired anyway shattering her left knee cap.
She clawed at the carpet trying to drag herself away from the cruel demon of a man, yet Yevgeny was too fast. As he stood over her he smiled and kneeled at her side before grabbing her sour face and speaking clearly "Stick out your tongue bitch and I'll let you live " Fear and pain made her give in. She stuck out her tongue unaware the he was about to shove her jaw closed breaking her jaw and severing her tongue with her own teeth. It happened perfectly with sound of cracking bone and the moans and wails of the woman were a symphony to his twisted ears. She luckily slumped into unconsciousness.
Twenty minutes later.......
She was found behind the demolished cathedral in a dumpster by the police. It was one of the worst atrocities the police of Ayenee Capitol city had ever seen, save for maybe the psycho who killed children on live television. Her eyes have been cut out, her ear drums punctured, and her fingers and toes blown off and the wounds burned closed. There was only one other thing he had done to this poor woman before he tossed her into the dumpster, but it was doubtful the police would find it Yevgeny has lobotomized her frontal lobe using a coat hanger.
A few minutes after the police had found the shattered woman in a dumpster a call came in on Nick DragonsBlood's Codec that said "I have chosen my code name you can call me Saint". All Nick could do was nod and turn the codec off and speak to himself " What did you do now .....saint...."
Itacelis
The television flickered light and dark, displaying early morning cartoons, the ones only seen just before the dawn of light. Though this wasn’t unusual, at least not for the young child that was sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in her blanketed lap. Her eyes were glued to the screen, completely entranced by such simple antics of the cartoon. The house was dark and silent around her. Early risers often rise alone.
All was well. Until, that was, her vision clouded, darkening, blotting out the television. Nor could she hear the television. There was only darkness, and she could feel nothing. There was no sensation, no stimulation. The moment there was, the young girl immediately wished that such beautiful void had remained, for the experience that followed was anything but pleasant.
It was an intense moment, filled with pain. Her eyes were aflame, her ears pierced through, fingers and toes were absent, but somehow alit with a wicked burn, and ultimately resulting in purely incomprehensible pain.
The vision ended as quickly as it began, dissipating into first nothingness, before the glow of the television returned into her sight. Though she was looking up at it, from the living room floor. Her cereal and milk spilt all over the couch. The dawn was peeking in through the blinds, and her gaze focused on a crimson touch of colouration around her. Blood dripped from her eyes, ears, and fingernails.
Staring at her hands, she reflected. Somewhere in this vision, there was a name. A single name attached only to a single voice.
Saint
Triscity wept.
The next day, all cleaned up, and at some unreasonable time of the night for a seven-year-old, Triscity sat down in her room with an old radio broadcaster. Turning the dials, she experimented with the knobs and controls until she found a frequency that didn't squeal at her, though there was a great deal of static. She was in the dark, lit only by her night-light plugged into the wall beside the closed door to her bedroom. Switching on her microphone, she spoke into it. Clearly, the voice was young, definitely a child.
"Saint." Scccchhhhsssttz. "You are," scchhttttzzzz, "murderer. A criminal, and you engage in needless death for your own sick, twisted enjoyment." Scchhtttzz. "You are no Saint." Scccchtttz.
She sat there, in silence, then. Waiting for a response. If there was one to come.
Mithrandirxx
In the darkness far into the city a smile crept over saints lips. He was not supposed to be a formal member of Omega Operations at least not one recognized by the organization proper but more of a trouble shooter for the group and the hidden partner of DragonsBlood. As the static from numerous ham radios buzzed around him he slowly pivoted his chair around as he head his name whispered into the static of one of the radios. Licking his lips he chuckled and leaned forward grabbing the hand set for the radio. " A Saint leads people to their god, and so does a murderer, there are people around the all of Ayenee who need to be released to their god comrade, I just help them find the path as I shall help you. " He said in a soft almost sickenly sweet tone.
His code name spoken clearly through the air waves meant there was a leak someone had heard someone had seen, someone else needed to die. It could have been DragonsBlood he had gone soft over the years caring more about the money than the fun of killing the wastes of flesh they were paid to remove. Yevgeny blamed Section One for Nicks new capitalistic ways. Perhaps the leak was not Nick but his wife Nerissa she was usually around Nick when she could be it was possible she had over heard. Drawing his knife his fingers brushed over the razor sharp edge a few times as he thought about his options.
"Tell me comrade where did you hear my name upon the lips of your mother as she lay dying , perhaps upon the lips over your lover as he coughed up his last ounce of blood. " He said softly his voice still soft and kind sounding yet something lurked beneath the surface something far less calming.
Itacelis
It hadn't been more than a few minutes before a voice replied. It truly struck her by surprise, having not actually expected a response. What a pleasant surprise. She did not smile, but a scowl turned upon those childish features. Again, her voice called over the radio against the grains of the static.
"A Saint leads people to their god through life. A murderer does so through death. We both know your method speaks not of a Saint, but that of a murderer. Why must you kill? Why must you destroy the lives of so many? And where I heard your name... Why... From your own mouth."
Hmmm. What would he say to that? Oh, dear, dear Triscity. Playing in yet more games meant for adults. Such was her way. It had brought her close to death many times before, and it would again.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny smiled a game indeed is what it seemed to him. Pausing a moment he allowed silence to flicker across the airwaves for a moment " From my lips you say comrade, I doubt that unless I am talking to one long dead..." He paused looking over by the TV where a copy of a movie called white noise sat. Taking a small breath he depressed the button on the radio's hand set again.
"A Saint leads them to their god the method is unimportant of how, certainly you have heard of martyrs those who die for their god and cause who are lead by a man who is called a prophet or Messiah, I just prefer a less grand title to those Yankees. " he said with a smirk before releasing the button on the radio his eyes turning to the computer and pressing a few key sequences to track the signal he was catching on that frequency. " So tell me why do their lives matter to you ? You should revel in the greatness of their joy to hear their symphony as they die, and suffer to be allowed into their gods hands"
Releasing the button he waited for her reply and the signal that would bring him to meet his admirer .....
Itacelis
And this is where she lost some major points. Triscity didn't see the trace coming. Had not expected or foreseen such an option. And for better or worse, she kept talking.
"It is important how. How is what distinguishes a murderer from a Saint. I would not expect such a twisted mind to understand a simple concept. It is beyond you. And their lives matter to me, because I have a heart. I cannot enjoy a cry of death, a last breath upon the lips of a victim as you can. As you do. I can only hope you will one day realize your mistakes, and feel sorrow for all that you have done."
And with each word, every passing second, the information was being gathered. And the address it pulled up? It was a one-bedroom home in a decent area of the city. The residence was registered in the name of one Johnathan K. Miller.
Mithrandirxx
Listening intently to her words he smiled as the computer came up with the location in GPS and then cross referenced the signal intensity and the location against the cities database finding the address of the house and who it was registered too. Miller the ultimate legend of the assassins a man who had more kills than any other single assassin. The man who had been feared and respected by everyone in the assassins guild. A man DragonsBlood looked up too and someone who had never had a real loyalty to anyone it seemed.
This was too good, too perfect for him to let slip by . Pushing the button on the hand set he made a false whimper and made it sound as if he were crying " Your right...I have been a bad bad man I have commited cold blooded murder for money and fun ....I need help get me a shrink comrade..... What I have done in the past was horrible, atrocious, and cruel.... but its nothing in compare to what I shall do next Mr. Miller " He said with a smile releasing the button on the radio and picking the frequency of the signal and holding it in his mind .
He quickly got into a mid-sized sedan and tuned the Radio system to the right frequency to her if she would reply. For a Man Miller sounded like a little girl but Miller supposedly worked alone or occasionally with Omega Ops or Section One. Clearing his throat as the doors to the warehouse opened he drove the sedan into the night heading for the address he had been able to pull from the city directory and Gps System. It was going to be a fun night.....
Itacelis
Triscity's heart stopped the moment he said Miller. Did he think she was Miller? More importantly, how did he know him?! No reply came from the radio. The little girl was busy throwing on her outside-clothes and shoving some necessities into a backpack. She had to move fast. If she'd been connected to him, she knew there were ways to connect names to addresses, and that meant she needed to flee quickly. She sat down and put her shoes on, by the radio, still.
This was not good. Not good at all. Where was she going to go? Who cared. Away from where she was, that was all that mattered. Her father would be safe, he was away, she knew that. Maybe she could get the hired help to assist her, or stall, or something. There had to be something she could do to resolve this matter. Oh yeah. She really fucked this one up.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny's eyes remained rather fixated upon the roads that marked the slow journey to his destination the home of Miller, he didn't know Triscisty existed, but that wouldn't stop him from torturing her to death for fun either. The one thing that bugged Yevgeny was the radio went silent knowing he would have to coax his prey he pushed a transmition button on the radio for a hands free conversation and spoke on to the same frequency he and Triscity had been talking on earlier. " Whats wrong Miller didn't expect me to find out who I was talking to ? Someone whos sins far out number mine on this world ?" He paused turning off of the main road and into the suburbs.
" Oh don't tell me you've lost your nerve after telling me I am such a bad bad man that you're afraid of speaking to me, come on where's the witty banter from the hero to the villan" He paused again looking up figuring that it was another one point seven miles to the house. " Come on Comrade are you so afraid ? Have you Run away on me hidding like a rabbit from the hounds ? " Another five minutes and he would be there.
Itacelis
By this time, she'd managed to get everything ready. All she needed to do was wake her guardian and let him know that trouble was likely on the way. He could decide what he was going to do, but Triscity was running either way. She was sliding on a backpack as that voice came over the radio again. She sighed, and spoke across the frequency again.
"He has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of it! And stay away, too! You're a terrible, terrible person. And what's worse is that you pride yourself in this, as though it is a trait befit of praise. And it is not! Goodbye, murderer!"
With that, she set the mic down and ran to the dining room, where her guardian had made himself a make-shift bed on the floor, sleeping next to weapons and everything. She knelt down and nudged him.
"Mike, Mike, wake up, wake up. There's a problem."
Mike, a fairly tall, well built man, woke with a start and sat up, looking at Triscity surprisingly alertly. "What's wrong?"
"Someone is coming. He's a killer, a murderer, and he enjoys it. I need to run, and so do you."
Mike was standing up, equipping several of his guns to himself, and grabbing a few more. He grabbed a duffle bag and stumbled from the house to the silver sedan that sat parked in the driveway. Shoving it all into the back seat, he went in for another trip of things, and grabbed Triscity's hand, pulling her from the house, too. They locked the door behind them. Triscity was ushered into the passenger's seat, and Mike climbed in and started up the car.
"Buckle up, kid. Your father will kill me if you get hurt," Mike said, though whether this was true or just a figure of speech, who knew.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny smiled as the voice of his little friend came back listening for a few seconds he smiled " So that's not Miller, that's a relief, I don't know if I could take having a grown man sound like that...." Smirking it seemed like Miller was a decent assassin leaving his house in the care of a women or perhaps a child a far easier target someone Miller couldn't care about to leave them in such an obvious choice for a hit. Licking his Lips with a sadistic grin crossing them he spoke into the Radio he was closer now and would like to slow his friend a bit more " So Tell me why should i leave Miller out of this he's left you for dead ?"
As Yevgeny turned his car he was almost there, in another three minutes he would be in the driveway. As Nothing seemed to be coming over the speaker he grimaced " Runner" He said to himself. He Loved the hunt and the feeling of his knife tearing off chunks of flesh of those he hunted. It was a thrill and more than that it was how he got his old nickname of the Butcher in Russia. It was of little consequence if his comrade ran but it would make it difficult to hunt her with out knowing what she looked like or what kind of transportation she had. However there could be pictures in the house that would help with that problem.
Itacelis
Triscity knew she wasn't left for dead. It would have been just fine had she not messed everything up. But she did. It was her fault this was happening, she knew that. The car pulled from the driveway and drove away, toward no particular destination quite yet. It went the speed limit, so as not to attract any unwanted attention.
Mike grumbled.
Triscity sulked.
The ride was going to be a long one. "Where are we going?" Triscity asked.
"A motel, I think," came the soft reply. And again, silence.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny pulled up to the house his eyes narrowing upon the drive way. It was obvious a car had been started here and driven off just a few minutes ago. The water trail that came from the tail pipe was evidence of that, as well as the small spot of oil that had been on the drive way for a while. " Newer vehicle........ and not a diesel...." he said to himself before strolling up to the front door it was obvious it was locked, but it wouldn't bee to hard to break it down if he needed to.
Rifling through his pockets he pulled out a small vial wrapped with electrical tape and an eye dropper attachment he placed the eye droppers nozzle intro the lock and forces some of the White phosphorous into the lock before backing up. The light from the fire in the locking mechanism was hardly visible thanks to the narrow opening in the lock. A small almost white line of smoke raised from the hole in the lock before he pushed upon the doors surface. The doors surface was warm but the lock was slag. Stepping into the house he looked around slowly as he made his way into the dinning room.
Finding a makeshift bed he placed his palm to it feeling the warmth that had not yet all disappeared but it was faint a lot fainter than it should have been had they just left. Focusing on his hearing he could hear the low dull compressor noises from the central air cooler and shook his head. Understanding why the difference in heat was so much greater than it should have been. Turning around slowly he looked around for pictures that he could use to identify his prey......(Need to know if I would find any pictures)....
Rhysis
(OOC note: Miller is not Miller in this post but more of a Stalker who trys to mimic Miller)
"SAINT!" The voice boomed from the old radio. Johnathan K. Miller, the owner of the house and famed assassin had been listening in throughout the entire conversation this unknown killer had been having with his daughter. That's the risk you took when dealing with old technology that broadcast on such an intense signal, particularly considering it wasn't used all that much any more. It was easy to listen in on, no matter where on the planet one was.
When the house was broken into, it triggered the silent alarm. That not only alerted the authorities, but told John it was happening. The radio crackled for a second, then the voice powered forth, again. "I'll give you five seconds to get out of my house. After that, you will only wish you were dead!"
Darrell
In another part of the city, a 35 year-old retired hitman was experiencing a bad case of extremely itchy ear. A young Johnathan Miller was often told by his mother that when your ear was itching, someone was talking about you. The older Johnathan Miller believed that a lot less than he did many years ago, but sitting there beside his mother in the funeral home, he couldn't help but remember the childhood memories she'd given him.
Johnathan was seated along with both his mother and father, along with several other members of his family, just outside of Ayenee Capitol City limits. They took up some thirty seats in the small funeral home, all staring forward at the casket held on pedestals near the front of the room; several people were crying, but Johnathan was not one of them. He was, however, holding his mother while she shed her tears of grief. Inside the casket was Johnathan's young cousin, Seth, who had been killed during an ATV accident several days before. Johnathan had come as soon as he'd heard the news, both to try to ease the grief of his family, but to mourn in his own way. He had known Seth very well, and had spent many hours with Seth when he was younger, playing video games or children's games out in the yard. He hadn't seen the boy in almost five years, and the many lost moments flooded his mind.
The words of the pastor hung in the air, reverberating off the walls and mixing with the tears and wadded Kleenex. Johnathan heard them, but he didn't listen to them, his mind was busy elsewhere. He had never been particularly religious nor devout, but he did believe in a right and wrong, even if he had spent a great portion of his life on the wrong side. He had killed many times, exactly how many he didn't remember, but the fact that he couldn't remember was quite convincing enough Miller had killed plenty. He hadn't known the names of most of his victims, sometimes he didn't even know why he was sent to kill them, only that when Dora called it was his job to take another life. Sitting there, holding his mother, Johnathan wondered how many funerals he'd caused over the years. How many sons had driven out to meet their mothers, to hold their family while they cried over a man or woman found dead in their apartment? The thought overwhelmed him momentarily, and he clenched his eyes tight as the urge to cry washed over him. This, he reminded himself, was why he had swore off ever going to a funeral. But his mother had called, and the part of him that remained a little boy could not say no to his mom.
He sniffed and fought off the urge, pushing it back as his mother looked up at him, her eyes red with tears and her skin touched by running lines of makeup. They shared a small smile, knowing that each supported the other. Johnathan glanced over his mother's shoulder at his father, who was speaking to his eldest daughter, Seth's mother. They, too, shared a glance of acknowledgement.
"No man whomever has died for the Lord has died in vain", the pastor spoke, "Seth was a good man. We must remember that though we mourn his body, his spirit lives on with our Father. He has gone on to meet with Father Pierce in Heaven, and they both now know eternal happiness that we shall never know so long as we remain on this Earth."
Father Pierce, Johnathan remembered, was the name of a priest who had been murdered in Ayenee Capitol City not long ago. He'd heard the report in the car on the way to the funeral home; the priest and three women had been killed. A single knife blow had killed the priest, and two bullets had killed the two near the front of the church. A third woman who had been lighting the candles, however, got the worst of the deal; they found her outside in a dumpster, mutilated near beyond recognition. Three kills showed extreme professionalism, the fourth showed an extreme amount of anger and sadism. Police were perplexed; Johnathan didn't give it much thought at the time--after all, he had a death closer to home to worry about. Still, he had said a prayer for the women, the priest, and their families. He might not have been devout, and the prayer might not have done much good, but he was sure the families would accept all the help they could get.
A few minutes later the services ended, and the group stood up and walked by the coffin, one-by-one, each stopping to offer their apologies to Seth's parents and grandparents. Johnathan was the last to walk by the coffin; he didn't look long, the rigid positioning of the body, the suit, the inches of make-up...it didn't look anything like Seth. Trailing his fingers along the edge of the coffin, Johnathan said his final goodbyes and left the funeral home to walk his parents to their car.
Just outside, he felt a sudden pulse in his jacket. His hand retrieved the small cellphone and he checked the number before answering.
"Mike?"
"John, glad I caught you. How are things at the, errr,..."
Johnathan, knowing that Triscity had an interest in death that was probably not healthy for a girl her age, had instructed Mike not to mention exactly why Johnathan had left. Mike was only to say that Miller had gone to see his family.
"It just ended, and it's going about as well as could be expected. Mom's taking it hard, all of us are. Is something wrong?"
"I think so. Triscity woke me up and said something about a murderer was coming to the house. I'm still not sure what it is she's talking about, but she had that look you told me about, the one that I should just do what she says when she says it?"
Johnathan was quiet for a few moments, enough that Mike asked him if he was there, thinking he may have lost signal.
"No, I'm here. Where are you taking her right now?"
"Well, honestly John, I don't know. I thought maybe a motel, but I'm not sure which one, and I'm not sure how far away is safe enough."
"Okay, here's what I want you to do. Pull off at the next well-lit gas station and pull up next to a payphone, I'm going to go down the street to one I saw earlier. I'll text you the number of mine, and you call me on that number. I'll tell you what I want you to do."
Johnathan knew that cellphones were not the safest thing to talk on, and with a serial killer apparently looking for his daughter, he couldn't afford to take precautions if she was right. The payphones would be far more resilient to any tapping or listening devices.
"And Mike, thanks again for watching Triscity for me. I appreciate you doing this."
"No worries, John. You've done plenty more for me without my asking, and to be honest, a lot of people in this city owe you a big debt of thanks."
"I'm not a hero, Mike. I'll talk to you in a few minutes."
Johnathan hung up the cellphone and tucked it away into his pocket. He went back to his grieving parents, aunt and uncle to explain that he would have to leave early, his daughter was very sick and he needed to go home to her as soon as possible. They understood; his Aunt and Uncle would have no child to go home to tonight, so they would not hold him back. While they spoke, Seth's casket was led out by the paulbearers, and Johnathan's eyes lingered on the smooth metal of the coffin while it was pushed into the back of the hearse. He wondered, briefly, how long it would be until he was in that coffin--before the thought went much further, he turned away from the black cadillac and went back to his rental car.
It slid off quietly onto the lonely road while the funeral procession started slowly going the other way, stretching out in Johnathan's rear-view mirror. Somewhere in front of him, his little daughter was being stalked by another murderer. No matter how far he walked away from the business, the business was always waiting for him. Just under the seat, a pistol was waiting for the business.
***
Inside the house, there would be very few photographs; Johnathan's particular line of work meant he kept very few links between himself and his home. There were a few pictures of himself, one at a carnival and another on the beach with a big fish hanging from a fishing rod. The only school yearbook he had was laying on the passenger seat of his rental car; he had brought it with him to show his parents how Triscity was doing in school. There were a lot of different books, several paintings on the wall, and oddly, a lot of photographs with those pre-made pictures still in the frames. That particular house was not one Johnathan stayed in very much, only when he needed to get away and did not want the strange feeling of a motel room. It was only being used temporarily to house Triscity and Mike while Johnathan was gone.
***
A small device Johnathan kept in his front breastpocket suddenly began to vibrate, and pulling the little box out to check it, a small red light was flashing. "Vortex Home Security" was written in small blue letters along the front; looks like someone had broke into the house. Johnathan frowned momentarily; he had been hoping Triscity's story about a serial killer were just the nightmares of a little girl. Unfortunately, a sudden break-in so soon after Mike and Triscity had left did not make the nightmare less real. The police would be at the house in a few minutes; a perk of living in a decent neighborhood. They probably wouldn't catch the guy, but one could always hope. How had the guy tracked Triscity to his home? Miller was always particularly careful about his paperwork, and he always kept his business life far from his personal life, especially since retirement.
Johnathan prayed he would not have to go to another funeral so soon.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny knew time was short after hearing someone call out his name in such a violent tone. Turning quickly from the living room he entered the little girls room the radio still on, the smell of the tubes burning the long years of dust accumulated upon them permeated the air. Finding a Note book he smiled and grabbed it, it was probably little more than the girls diary if anything, but still it would have clues inside.
Hearing the threat of five seconds he smirked and ran back through the main room of the house grabbing three pictures one that had someone fishing and a few showing a happy family much like the horrible ones you found already in the cases it was obvious to any assassin these were throw offs but with the low light in the house it was hard to see much more than how lighted the background of each picture was. Going out the door he got back into his sedan and smirked clicking the radios on button and smiling as he back out of the drive way.
Yevgeny spoke in a sweet kind almost child like voice into the radios hands free system to the false Miller and anyone else listening in "So tell what are you afraid of me finding in your house a few skeletons from days gone by Miller? " His eyes looking around for the perfect place to lay low he knew that if someone had instantly known that someone broke in they would call the police assassins them selves often preferred the police to be shields if they couldn't get to there first.
Licking his lips he smirked a little as he turned into a cul de sac, and parked under a large old elm. His gloved fingers moving to the glove box and pulling out a unfiltered cigarette " You know Comrade I would expect you to have had the decency to meet me face to face....lets meet say at the Cathedral they found those three dead and that woman with all the burns and wounds. Ah she screamed so beautifully for death but I promised I wouldn't kill her oh no...I left her alive......The police killed her you know thought she was dead and suffocated her......." Lifting his lighter to the end of the cigarette he pulled on the flame a few times before extinguishing the bic and waited for a reply.
Itacelis
Mike clicked the disconnect button the cell and handed it to Triscity, who looked at it with a little disappointment that she didn't get to talk to him. But she had caused this mess, perhaps it was time to let the big boys do the adult stuff. Obviously she tended to make quite a terrible situation out of what she thought was something relatively harmless.
As they drove, Mike glanced to Triscity, then back to the road, turning a right. "Triscity, I need you to stay in the car for a little bit. I'll be right back, okay? Be quiet, honk if you need help."
Their sedan pulled into a parking lot of a gas station, lit with bright white lights. The engine shut off, the doors locked Triscity inside the car as soon as Mike stepped out of it. About five minutes from the moment the last call ended, the next began with a series of rings to the number given.
The child's eyes were focused on Mike, on his lips, trying to figure out what he was saying while he spoke. What were they talking about, she wondered. Were they going to be okay? Of course she was worried, fretting about not only her safety, but her father's and Mike's, too. What had she done....
Rhysis
The radio was eerily quiet. This was not the typical crackling a popping silence one would expect when monitoring a dead channel. This was an intentional silence. It was long and drawn out. On the other end of the broadcast, several electronic devices worked their magic, scrambling the signal the radio on that end was using, while tracking the various other locations tuned into this station using a seeries of triangulation modules. In a matter of moments, it blinked forth with three possibilities. One was the home of Miller, himself. One was another location not far away. The other, the one that was broadcasting more than the others, was only able to be tracked by one of the three posts, which meant it was mobile. Granted, this meant that he wouldn't be able to actually locate it. However, it also meant that the third was likely this "Saint's" home. The fake smiled.
Edwin Starr, the real identity of the person behind the radio, may have been smart, true enough. Actually, he was a genius at the top of every class he'd ever attended. Still, with all his smarts, was was far from being an elegant speaker. The voice of Miller boomed forth again. "I have nothing to hide from you! But you will pay for interrupting my life!" Then the radio fell silent, once more.
The trick with being as much of a stalker to a former assassin was that, eventually, you would have to make yourself known to them, or they would find you out, and likely end your life. Edwin had taken an opportunity to become an informant for Mr. Miller several years ago. While they did not still speak, he was fairly certain that the legend would take any tips on someone attempting to end his daughter's life. He got out his old phone list, one riddled with various ways of contacting Miller over the years, and started dialing.
Darrell
The little blue rental car slid off the road and pulled up next to a payphone on the sidewalk; he electronically locked all the doors as he stepped out, keys dropped in his front pocket, and he quickly texted the number of the cellphone to Mike. Twenty-five seconds later, he picked the phone up moments after hearing the loud ring.
"Mike? Okay, good, I wasn't sure if that was the right number or not; hard to see through all the graffiti with no street light. Is Triscity there with you? Did you lock the doors? Can you see her from where you are? Good."
"Never pictured you as the fatherly type", Mike said with a grin after Johnathan had went through the checklist.
"Neither did I, but no one ever does I guess. Sort of like what they say about marriage; if you wait until you're ready, it would never happen."
"Thinking about getting married are you?"
"I'm getting old, Mike. It's something all men think about when they're staring down the barrel at 40. I'm too old for one-night stands and bar rendezvous. Plus, Triscity needs a mother figure in her life, and truth be told I wouldn't mind having someone to come home to."
"You mean someone to have good food and clean laundry for you to come home to", Johnathan could tell Mike was grinning again.
"Mike, I've been living alone my whole life, I have no problems cooking and cleaning. I don't need anyone to do that for me", Miller cleared his throat, "Anyway, no need to talk about that now. Is Triscity okay, is she scared?"
"She doesn't seem to be but she is pretty adult for her age, although I wouldn't blame her if she was."
"Nor would I. Alright, Mike, here's what I want you to do. I don't want you to take her to a motel; those things are too sleazy and the security is way too lax. There is a hotel inside Ayenee Capitol City called "Coburn Falls", do you know it?"
"I know it, but that place is pretty steep on price."
"Price is not something I want to worry about when my little girl is being stalked. I'll call and make arrangements for you; I want you to check in under your alias, and tell Triscity if they ask what her name is she should say "Trinidad". I don't know how much the guy knows, so we might as well assume the worst. The room will only be for two nights, just pay for it with the card I gave you before I left, I'll make sure there's enough money on it. When you get up to the room, call Room Service and ask for a banana split for Triscity, and whatever you want. I'll meet you there when I get back into town. How long did you have to pack before you left?"
Mike was rather impressed with the cool attitude with which Johnathan handled the situation, "Not very long, we were out of the house in three minutes after she told me."
"Alright, I'll stop by a 24/7 store and pick up some spare clothes for you, and a little extra things you might need. In the meantime, tell Triscity to get in the back seat and lay down, I don't want her being seen. Keep an eye on her at all times, Mike, do not let her out of your sight for even a second."
"Will-do, John."
"Good. We'll figure out what else to do later, this will have to work for now. Now, go get Triscity and bring her to the phone."
"Okay, hold on a minute", Mike and Johnathan simultaneously added another quarter to their payphones, as they had been periodically doing through their conversation.
Mike left the payphone dangling by the silver, metallic cord while he fetched Triscity from the car. He held her hand while he walked her over to the phone, and lifted her up a bit so she could hold the receiver.
"Triscity? This is Daddy, don't worry about a thing, I'm taking care of everything. I told Mike what to do, just do what he says to and everything will be okay, I promise. I'll see you later tonight, I'm going to drive back so I can make sure you're safe and I'll bring some clothes for you to sleep in. If you're a good girl, Mike will get you some ice cream later tonight, okay? Daddy loves you sweetheart, don't worry about a thing. Bye-bye."
Johnathan hung up the phone then redialed the hotel number he had in his wallet, and made the arrangements for a room for Mike and Triscity. He thanked the woman on the other end of the line, and hung up; just as he did so, he heard shouting from the other side of the street.
"Fuck you bitch, give us the money!"
"But I don't have any money, I lost my purse at the library and I was on my way to get it!"
A lightbulb flickered in an alley, and Johnathan could make out the rough shapes of figures mixed with the shadows. Looking down each side of the street, he quickly stepped down onto the road and walked across the pavement to the alley's mouth. Johnathan was still in the black suit and tie he'd worn to the funeral; his polished new dress shoes clicked on the asphalt when he stepped.
"Bullshit, fine-ass honey like you gots to be havin' some money tucked in somewhere. Maybe in your panties, huh? Maybe we should check there first, been a while since I got me a piece."
"Please, I don't have any money on me at all! But...but if you want I could come back and give you some money from my purse when I find it! Just let me go, please."
"Nah, you ain't got no money we can't let you go. Your ex-husband gave us 50 bucks a piece to make sure you didn't go nowhere."
Bunch of punk assassins, Johnathan thought when he heard that remark. The lightbulb flickered again, and there was a glint of steel in the hands of one of the figures. Miller could see the girl now, wearing a strapped dress that came down to her knees. She was backed in against the old brick wall, and three men were crowded around her. He caught her eyes looking his way, and he took his cue.
"Sloppy work, but you get what you pay for", Johnathan spoke loudly and clearly, just to make sure the three men heard him.
"What the fu...who the fuck are you?", the figure with the knife was the first to look his way. The other two weren't long in following.
"Well, since she is the stereotypical female victim being assaulted by you three stereotypical, thuggish assassins, that makes me the stereotypical, heroic passerby who has stumbled into this alley just in time to save her."
"What's a stereo got to do with this?", one of the assassins asked.
Johnathan sighed, just as the lightbulb flicked on again. He caught a good look at each of their faces, each dressed up in typically dirty, urban gear; leather jackets, torn blue jeans, dirty tee-shirts, spotless white $500 tennis shoes without even a grass stain. The one furthest on the right had the knife, the one furthest on the left had a tire iron, and the one in the middle looked like he had some brass knuckles.
The one in the middle suddenly looked very scared.
"Some crazy-ass dude in a suit thinks he's going to fuck with me? Should'a kept on goin' man, this ain't no place for heroes."
"Good thing I'm not a hero", Johnathan said with a small grin as he recalled telling Mike the same exact line not long ago.
"I know who that guy is", Brass Knuckles' voice was wavering.
"You do?", asked Tire Iron.
"You do?", asked Switchblade Knife.
"You do?", asked Johnathan Miller.
The woman might have been curious too, but instead of playing the "You do?" game, she thought it might be better to take a few steps back toward the rear of the alley.
"Dude, that's Johnathan Miller...you know, -the- Johnathan Miller."
"It is?", asked Tire Iron.
"It is?", asked Switchblade.
"It is", said Johnathan Miller.
"What the fuck is he doing out here in an alley instead of out killing somebody?", Switchblade glanced over to Brass Knuckles.
"Shit dude I don't know!"
"Bullshit, that ain't Johnathan Miller", Tire Iron was glancing Miller up and down with a close eye, "Johnathan's gotta' be way tougher than this dude."
Miller couldn't help but be slightly insulted at that remark, although his neverending shock of random people identifying him at odd times in odd places dulled the insulted feeling. Was there nowhere he could go and not be known as -the- Johnathan Miller? Maybe he needed to move.
"Dude, I swear to God that's who it is."
"Well, if that's who it is, I reckon we could find somebody who'd pay a whole lotta dough for his skull", Switchblade played with the knife in his hand.
"What about the bitch?", asked Tire Iron while motioning his head toward the rear of the alley.
"We'll kill her after we're done cuttin' up this dude. Knuckles, keep an eye on that bitch while we work."
"I'd rather not fight, and I doubt my head will be worth much to anybody", Johnathan said while he calmly began loosening his tie.
"What's the matter old man? Scared? Or has it been too long since you got into a fight--I heard you was retired."
"I am retired", Johnathan agreed while he slid his tie loose from his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, "I'm an old man who would rather not go through all this the rest of his life."
"Well you won't have to worry about going through with it long, we'll take care of that."
Then they lunged at him, Tire Iron at Johnathan's right, and Switchblade at his left. Miller jumped back to avoid the swing of the tire iron at his gut, and a quick turn to the left forced the knife at his throat to harmlessly go by. His back to the wall, he wrapped his tie in either fist, and watched Tire Iron come for him again. Miller ducked the swing at his head, and the rusty metal slammed hard into the brick wall behind him, nearly shaking it out of the thug's hand. Quick hands wrapped around the would-be assassin's arm, the tie tightening around Tire Iron's wrist. When Switchblade came for him, Johnathan spun Tire Iron around by the arm, the blade stabbing into the dirty black jacket.
"Ow shit!", Tire Iron whelped as the blade sunk deep into flesh.
Johnathan took control of the arm again with his tie and brought it up in a quick swing, bringing a whelp of pain from the stabbed owner of the limb, which was followed by another cry of injury when the old tire iron slammed into Switchblade's temple. The gang leader stumbled back, giving Johnathan some time to move. The retired Hitman quickly released the tie and stabbed his fingers hard into Tire Iron's knife wound, causing a loud shriek that echoed up and down the alley. He dropped his weapon, and Johnathan shoved him out onto the sidewalk. Miller was quick to bend down and take control of the cross of metal.
"Think you're Superman or somethin'?", Switchblade asked as he shook off the daze that hovered over him. A trickle of blood made its way to his jaw from his temple.
"Not even close, but you're free to give up and leave anyway."
"Not til I got my knife stuck in your heart, motherfucker."
Switchblade came at him again, much faster than Johnathan anticipated, and his old age made it hard to keep up. The blade tore his white shirt and black jacket, but luckily Johnathan did not find himself skewered. The professional and the amateur shared curses. Miller was the faster this time, however, and quickly spun about to Switchblade's rear, and uncerimoniously buried his tire iron into Switchblade's groin. There wasn't even a sound of pain; the thug dropped to his knees, vomitted on the wall, and promptly passed out in his own stomach fluid. Tire Iron had finally managed to get up from the sidewalk, and taking one look at his friend, remembered he had something else to do and began stumbling down the street in a haze of pain.
Knuckles hadn't moved much, frozen in place while a 35 year-old fan of crosswords took down his two friends. One was still wandering down the sidewalk, the other was laying face-down in a sick-looking orange fluid. Johnathan rolled Switchblade over with the tip of his foot so the guy didn't drown in puke; even a Hitman couldn't stand to see someone die that way.
The two men stared at each other in the alley for several long moments, one a seasoned and well-informed member of the streets, the other a retired man with salt-and-pepper hair whose name inspires and frightens people even after he stopped his career.
"I don't want to fight", Knuckles finally said while lowering his eyes from Johnathan's gaze.
"That makes two of us", Johnathan glanced beyond Knuckles to the woman kneeling close to a garbage dumpster--from the way her nose was curled, probably a lot closer than she liked.
"So...you're gonna' let me go?"
"If you want to go."
"Y...", Knuckles' face betrayed confusion, "You're not going to kill me?"
Johnathan raised a brow, "Why would I kill you?"
"Well, I mean...you're a H..."
"I'm retired", Johnathan cut Knuckles off before he could finish the sentence, "
"Oh? Oh. ...Oh! Yeah, uh, I think I'll head on home then. Thanks a lot, you know, for not killing me."
"You're welcome?", Miller wasn't really sure how to handle an apology like that.
The retired killer watched Knuckles leave calmly, attempt and fail to rouse his friend, then left Switchblade laying where he was before. Johnathan watched him go out of sight, then turned his attention to the woman in the back of the alley. As he turned his head, he saw her standing up while holding onto her purse; the sling had been cut and it dangled wounded at her side.
"Are you alright?", Miller asked while stepping over Switchblade and, more importantly, his pool of vomit.
"I'm okay. How did you know what was going on?"
"I heard the shouting from across the street at the payphone. I thought I would come see what the yelling was about."
"I suppose I should thank you. I wasn't expecting to get rescued; I'm kind of embarassed, actually. I took one of those defense classes they offered at the library, and they tell you not to shout for help because no one will come, you should always yell "FIRE!" instead. But it all happened so fast, I sort of forgot the class, never thought I'd need it you know?", the woman walked nervously up to Johnathan while eyeing the man laying down on the alley floor.
"No need to thank me, I'm just doing what anyone should do", Miller gave her a once-over while she wasn't looking; he didn't mean to, it was just a male habit. He also wanted to make sure she wasn't bruised or cut--adrenaline could dull the body's senses to the point where an individual can be wounded and be completely unaware of the injury. He thought that sounded like a good excuse for it.
"Your name is Johnathan Miller?", she looked up at him.
Miller was about to ask her how in the world -she- knew that too, but he recalled the name being mentioned earlier, and regained his composure rapidly, "Yes, it is."
"How did those men know you? Do you do this kind of thing all the time?"
"I used to work in", he paused for a moment, "Criminal management."
"Criminal management? Like taking gang members off the street...like a cop?"
"Errr, yeah, something like that."
They shared a nervous smile, their eyes meeting briefly in the shadowy curtains of the alley.
"Well...I guess I should go get my purse before it gets too late. Thank you again for your help, Mr. Miller."
"You're welcome...", he trailed off.
The woman picked up on cue, "Tiffany. Tiffany, er, Miller", she blushed momentarily.
"Tiffany Miller?"
"Yeah...weird coincidence, huh?"
"I don't think this is the first time a couple of Millers have met in an alley", Johnathan motioned with his head toward two beer bottles sitting against a brick wall; they both shared a laugh.
"Well...I guess I should go get my purse before it gets too late. Thank you again for your help, Mr. Miller."
"You're welcome, Ms. Miller"
Tiffany nervously walked by the older man, stepped over the fallen body of the thug, and left the alley. Johnathan followed her to the mouth and watched her walk away, her heels clicking on the cracked sidewalk. Miller glanced down at his wristwatch, and got into his car. It was time to drive into the city to meet Mike and Triscity, and find out what exactly is going on. The little rental car pulled away onto the lonely street and drove down to the stop sign, paused, then turned off to the right. Standing near a bus stop, Tiffany watched the red tail lights of the car vanish into the night.
***
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Edwinn Starr would dial the only phone number ever known to reliably contact Johnathan Miller, outside of the codec he'd long ago abandoned, which was the number of his ex-manager, Dora. Dora used to handle all of Miller's jobs, along with a few other hitmen in the area, although she never had the close contact to them like she did with Johnathan. Even though he was retired now, they still spoke often over the phone and at least once weekly Johnathan would come over to Dora's home for some homeade iced tea.
It was rather late, but the phonecall would nevertheless get a response from Dora who happened to be up reading at the time. "Hello?", she always answered the phone that way, even though this line was the "business" line. There was a certain dialogue to take place, of which Edwinn was probably aware from previous dealings with Mr. Miller; this was just to weed out those customers not serious about an arrangement.
Itacelis
The little girl was in the safety of the locked car, watching intently at Mike on the phone. Breathing quietly, ears straining to catch a piece of the conversation, eyes focused on trying to read his lips, but alas, she managed to understand almost nothing. There were a few things she understood. There was talk of her safety, and marriage. Neither were surprising. Triscity knew her father loved her, and she knew that she was quite the handful that it made sense to want to acquire a motherly figure for her. And now that she thought about it, she could remember observing some kind of loneliness from Miller. He needed someone. Everyone needs someone, but who was more deserving than her father? He deserved the best.
All he had to do was find himself a woman who wasn't a psycho, wasn't a killer who would get him back into the lifestyle, and wouldn't run as soon as she knew the truth about what her father used to do, and what he was still capable of doing. Surely, there had to be plenty of nice women who meet those criteria. ... Right?
Her thoughts were interrupted when Mike let the phone dangle, and came to get her from the car. Hand-in-hand, she was walked to the phone and picked up into Mike's arms so she could talk better. A smile lit her face.
"Daddy!" she exclaimed, excitement clear in her voice, but perhaps relief, too. Thank you for helping, I'm sorry, I'll explain this all the best I can later, okay? I can't wait to see you, I miss you." Pausing, she listened for a moment, and just nodded quietly, even though he couldn't see it. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. I love you, Daddy. Bye-bye."
The line went dead.
Mike set Triscity down and walked her back to the car. Opening the door for her, he directed her to lie down in the back seat.
"Howcome I have to lie down?" she asked.
"Your father doesn't want you to be seen by the person chasing us, okay? Now lie down, we've got to get going."
Triscity nodded, and lied down in the backseat as directed. Mike shut the door and climbed back into the driver's seat. In no time, they were off toward the Coburn Falls Hotel. Though it was a bit of a drive, but Triscity watched the telephone lines pass by as they eventually connected into taller and taller buildings.
"How are you feeling, Triscity?" Mike asked, glancing briefly toward the back.
"I'm okay," she said.
"Really?"
"A little worried," she grudgingly admitted.
"Thought so." Mike focused on driving, and pulled into an underground parking lot of the hotel. He found a parking spot near the elevator up. "We're here."
Triscity sat up, and unbuckled her waist. Mike unlocked her door and helped her out. Together they equiped themselves with all of their backpacks and luggage, and tottered toward the elevator. As the elevator went up, he grabbed Triscity's hand into his. The elevator gave a ding, the doors opened to the first floor, and they walked toward the front desk. Mike checked in under his alias, paid for a room with two beds, and got the key. They waddled to the fourth floor, room number 404.
Stepping inside, they both fairly breathless from toting the luggage. They unloaded themselves, catching their breath and after locking and securing all the bolts on the door, and closing the curtain to the small balcony, they each plopped down onto a bed and relaxed a moment.
"Phew," Triscity said.
"Yeah. Phew," Mike agreed.
"Do we have cable here?" she asked.
"I think so. I'm pretty sure their sign even mentioned HBO. But it's pretty late, I don't know whether it's programming you should be watching, young lady." Mike grinned, looking across at Triscity. She looked back at him, with that same grin.
"Okay, okay, you can see what's on."
Triscity smiled and sat up, pulling the remote to her and fussing with it for a while. That gave Mike plenty of time to call for some room service. "What do you want to eat?"
She looked up only briefly before looking back down to the remote and television.
"Uhmmm. What are you going to get?" she asked.
"Nachos."
"I want nachos, too."
"Copy-cat. Do you want ice-cream?"
"Ooooh. Ice-cream, yes. Can I have a banana split?"
Mike just nodded and grinned, dialing up the room service line on the hotel room phone and placing the order.
Triscity flipped through the channels, and muttered quietly a thought that flashed through her mind.
"Why would I kill you? I'm retired."
"What?" Mike asked, looking at her with his brows furrowed, very much confused if he heard what he thought he had.
"Huh? Nothing," she replied, and found a cartoon to watch on the Cartoon Network.
"Right," Mike just shook his head. Triscity was about as strange as Miller was. Somehow fitting. Though he had to wonder how Miller ended up with a little girl in his care in the first place. He'd be there soon enough.
Now, it was time to wait.
Mithrandirxx
Watching carefully out his windows as he took a drag from his cigarette he could see the flashing lights of the police cars as they moved towards the house that once housed a little girl with a eccentric name and supposedly the infamous assassin Johnathan Miller. It seemed odd that Miller would have such a house to live in consistently let alone have a daughter, who was as stupid as this girl seemed. Yevgeny smiled as he pulled another puff of smoke from the unfiltered cancer stick finding his new friend had gone so silent. Talking into the system again he smiled brightly " Well Miller it seems you have pissed yourself, and are probably praying to your impotent god, about now, So let me tell you something, you can expect me to play with your darling daughter for a few hours before she's released from this world".
Technology was a wonderful thing as Starr was locating a transmitter beacon out about two miles from his little makeshift home, Yevgeny pressed the button on the cars radio system switching frequencies and then shutting off completely. It was not that Yevgeny knew he was being traced but more of the fact that he had to get moving and talking was only delaying his finding of the girl. Turning on the engine he pulled out of the cul de sac his eyes narrowing upon the road that went in front of Millers home. Two main directions they could have gone, but with as much time as had passed he knew he wouldn't find them easily.
Yevgeny knew well that any father would not take his daughter to a sleazy motel especially one who knew the game as well as Miller did. The best course of action was to go to another safe house one with out lines out of the house, or they went to an upper class hotel under an assumed name which would be equally impossible to find for the time being until he was able to hack the school records for the area. There would be a very small amount of names like the one found on the notebook he found Triscity, It was too easy a name to locate once he would get to his computer. Arriving at the same gas station as Mike and Triscity had been at only a little while ago would have been nice to know, but he didn't. Flicking his cigarette out into the street he opened his cars fuel tank and began to fill it. Walking into the store he paid for his gas as well as a pack of unfiltered luckys in cash.
Nick was inside a Cafe his eyes narrowed upon the street out side he could tell someone was up to no good, but Nick learned from Joseph that if you stick your neck where it doesn't belong it will get cut off. Grumbling a little to himself he was about to stand up and put his neck out when he saw a familiar looking man heading into the ally on the other side of the street. "Miller......what the hell ? " he said to his over sweetened cup of coffee. It seemed Miller had taken one the task of being a local hero. It was like Batman with out the tights or masks. Standing up slowly and leaving a dollar seventy five on the table Nick walked out of the cafe his eyes trained on the alley. He could see flashes of the fight between the flickering of the light bulb.
It was obvious that the street punks were out classed, but that always seemed to be the things worked out when it came to Miller. Sliding his hand into his pocket he smirked and walked towards the alley, It was obvious that the kids had been beaten senseless for the most part well save for the leader. He seemed to be talking a lot to Miller, and thanking him for not killing them. A cold look crossed Nicks eyes as the two youths staggered out of the alley, completely ignoring Nick altogether and trying to get the hell out of dodge.
Nick smirked as they passed him, Miller seemed to have gone easy on them, but that didn't mean he had lost his talents nor that he had thrown in the towel. Nick could have sworn there were three men besides Miller in that alley, and only two had left. Nick had to be careful, because weather or not Miller had retired seeing a real assassin waiting for you when you come out of a poorly lit alley would make anyone a little worried. Turning quickly Nick moved away from the mouth of the alley and watched as Miller walked over to his car and got in.
Watching as Miller left he let out a long sigh, it had been a long long time since they had spoken let alone seen each other. Miller had indeed looked older, yet he still seemed to be spry as ever. " Seems the ghosts of the past keep tossing you into my business and me into yours, Miller " He said softly with a light chuckle. Miller had been at the tech Heist where Saint cut Mr. Tenshi Kyuusai's throat, bathing his little girl in blood. Now Nick had been privy to Millers graceful take down of three would be assassins.
Renegade and Wolf had lost track of Miller after the expo, in part because Nick had been unconscious. Now once again their worlds were intersecting. Calmly walking across the street and over the cracked and painted concrete he entered the parking lot of the cafe, and got into his car debating with himself weather or not to follow Miller.
Darrell
Johnathan was quiet while he drove the little rental car down the relatively lonely outskirts of Ayenee Capitol City, his stereo playing WXYZ's All Eighties Hour; "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" was currently the requested song. When the DJ chimed in at the end of the song, announcing the artist, Johnathan suddenly hit his brakes and pulled off to the side of the road. He retrieved a pen from his dashboard and a rolled up paper from inside the glove compartment, quickly flipping around to the back. His eyes picked out:
"25 Across: Artist of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn"."
He quickly penned in "Poison" in the open boxes, happy to have that little monkey off his back, he'd been knocking his head around that one all day. While a fan of 80's music, and despite his profession that one might think would lend itself to remembering that sort of name, Johnathan was notoriously bad at remembering the names of artists--even of songs he was very fond of. Miller quickly penned in two other words connecting with 25 Across, replaced his pen and paper, then pulled back out onto the road.
Several minutes later he stopped by a 24/7 Mall Mart and quickly filled the shopping cart up with various necessities. Some extra changes of clothes, nothing flashy or namebrand, along with some toiletries, magazines, and some duffel bags. He took a bit longer than necessary, as was his usual custom, making sure there were no odd followers on his tail. Johnathan was rarely ever tailed anywhere, as his rather mundane appearance and habits made him about the most boring person to follow around as anyone could find; combined with his average appearance making it relatively easy to blend into a crowd, Johnathan Miller managed to live beneath the radar of most parties. In Ayenee Capitol City, there were a lot more dangerous-looking and interesting parties to follow around than some salt-and-peppered old man with a fondness of crossword puzzles and scotch.
He checked out in Aisle 2; it was one of two available aisles at this hour. The other was a self-automated machine where a customer could check themselves out and bag their own groceries without the convenience of contact with other humans. Johnathan had tried to use one several weeks ago, but after managing to somehow turn a briefcase and magazine into a bill of $450 while simultaneously breaking the machine, he had decided that he would stick to letting other people handle his items. Miller paid cash, again, as was his custom. Long ago he'd learned to avoid the dangers of unnecessary paper trails that credit cards and checks can leave. He always made sure to carry enough cash to handle any non-major purchases he needed to make, without carrying too much money as to appear suspicious and invite unwanted questions. Johnathan took his change, thanked the cashier, took his bags and returned to his car in the parking lot.
It was another 35 minutes of driving before he pulled up to the hotel he'd instructed Mike and Triscity to. He could have made it in 20, but he did some extra driving to make sure no one was following--he certainly didn't want to lead the fox to the henhouse. He took the extra time to listen to a few extra songs, and let his mind wander from various spot to spot in his memory. He thought about the woman in the alley and wondered why he didn't bother to get her name, he thought about what kind of psycho wants to stalk and kill a little girl (Then he promptly remembered Eve and decided he didn't want to go down that memory lane). He briefly remembered the Tech Expo and the hit he'd seen, although he was unaware of the connection to Saint, but he remembered the look on the father's face as he died and the tears of the little girl as she was orphaned. Again, he decided that memory lane was not something he wanted to travel right now; he had his own little girl to worry about orphaning.
He parked the car in a garage near the hotel, put the items he'd bought at Mall Mart into the duffel bags he'd also purchased; the black with red straps held Mike's items, the black with blue straps held Triscity's. He also took out a briefcase, which had been packed previously with a few clothes when he was planning on staying at his parent's for Seth's funeral, and carefully managed to slip his pistol beneath his underwear while avoiding the prying eye of the mounted camera by careful angling of the rented vehicle and his body. Of course, he also packed his crossword and pen so he could hopefully finish it before the night was over. When he finished, Johnathan put the duffel bags over his shoulder so the straps made an uncomfortable "X" on his chest, took the briefcase in his right hand, and wandered off for the hotel.
It was a rather uncomfortable walk, but Johnathan was in good shape for his age and thus managed the trip without much difficulty. No one in the lobby gave him much of a second look; he looked well-off enough to stay in the hotel, poor enough that no one was rushing to help him for a big tip. He walked through the lobby with a confident stride and glare; if you looked confident and acted like you were supposed to be doing whatever it was you were doing at the time, everyone would assume you were doing just that and leave you alone. It's when you get nervous and shifty-eyed that people ask questions. The elevator opened up for another gentleman as Johnathan walked up to the metal doors. He stepped inside, pushed his floor number, and rested against the rear wall. The man who had called the elevator earlier got off three floors before Miller, and each exchanged a friendly elevator-brother nod when they parted company.
When the doors opened a second time, Johnathan stepped out onto the plush red carpet and looked for the right room number. On his way out, he ran his fingers up and down the numbers, illuminating them all--just to make sure no one would know exactly what floor he got off on, and to tie up that particular elevator for a while, again, to elude any pursuers. Finding it, he knocked three solid times and waited in front of the peephole. Through the little glass circle he could see the light inside the room, and subsequently the absence of it as someone stood in front of the door to check. Miller gave a few glances down the hallway to either side while he waited for the door to be opened.
"Hey John, you got here earlier than I thought. Come on in, let me help you with those bags", Mike stood back to make room for Johnathan to get through the door and slipped one of the duffel bags from his shoulders in the process.
"Came as quick as I could, had a few delays and took a little extra time to do the usual so I wouldn't be followed", Johnathan shed his briefcase and remaining duffel bag to the floor, "Where is Triscity?"
"She's in the bathroom. Ate a little too much ice cream I think, she said she had a tummy ache", Mike nodded to the closed bathroom door, "How sure are you that you weren't followed?"
"Not sure at all. I suppose we'll find out shortly if I was wrong. Do you have your gun with you, just in case?"
"Always. You?"
"Same."
From the bathroom, Johnathan could hear the sink water running, and quietly crept over to the door. He put his finger to his lips for Mike, and crouched down a bit behind and off to the side of the bathroom. Moments later, the water stopped and the door opened, and out came little Triscity; tired from lots of sugary sweets. She gave Mike an odd look when she saw him grinning, but before she could ask any questions Johnathan latched his arms around her waist and pulled her up off the floor. He wasted no time to hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head.
"Hello Triscity, Daddy's home!"
Itacelis
Alas, Triscity was not immune to a stomach ache from eating too much ice cream. She was feeling a little sick for a while. After complaining miserably for about five minutes, Mike had suggested she go to the bathroom and get some water, or decide whether she needed to upheave. With a groan, she disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Mike was smart like that. After drinking some water and just sitting down, the aches in her stomach subsided, though it left her quite tired and exhausted. Not that she really wasn't already. It had been an exciting night, after all. Bed-time would come soon, wouldn't it? The scare was over, they were safe, and everything was just fine. But where was her father? With a sigh, she pulled herself up and opened the door to step out, almost walking right into Miller's arms. She blinked, looking up at Mike strangely, and shortly thereafter she was snatched up from her feet, lifted off the ground and into her father's arms. Hers wrapped around his neck, small legs around his waist, and she smiled with genuine happiness and excitement.
"Daddy, you're back! You're gonna stay here with us, right? I'm really sorry, I was just trying to convince Saint he was bad, that's all. I saw what he did, it was wrong, and those people in the church, and that girl in the dumpster behind it... It was so terrible, what he did. I didn't think he could find me, I'm sorry," she spoke quickly, raving hurriedly and keeping ahold of him tightly. When she stopped, she sighed lightly and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He was so comfortable. There was no safer feeling than being in the loving arms of her father.
Mithrandirxx
Nick knew he could catch up to Miller, but catching up to him meant taking certain risks, the kind that were all the more reason people often didn't tail assassins. Sitting in his car his eyes narrowing to the dash display as he reached for a cigarette placing it between his lips and lighting it as he started up his car. "Yeah yeah yeah.......God damn it why not" Nick said to himself asking the question that had been reverberating in his mind since Miller had driven off. Miller was a trained Killer certainly one of the best, but still he looked at his opponents before he shot them....usually.
Pulling out of the Cafe's parking lot Nicks right eye looked down the road while his left was interfacing with the cars computer which in turn was accessing the ACC's Traffic system. Nick had to check the traffic light cameras for the same car he had seen before it was an exhaustive search. Considering the numerous points Miller could have turned off before hitting a light thankfully as Nick came to a stop light it seemed to be one Miller had hit as well. From there Nicks computer and interface system began to search the license plate number on the rental car for other traffic lights that Miller may have stopped by or driven through.
Pulling into the parking lot of Mall Mart it was a depressing place. Nicks Skin crawled as he looked over the places parking lot. " They Say liches and demons are the worst evils in Ayenee, personally I think its this place" Nick said to himself as he turned out of the parking lot and continued the growing sparser by the mile trail of Millers. Nick was growing rather tired of following massive circles and walk arounds of buildings it seemed Miller was thinking he had a tail.
Shaking his head as he came to the end of another loop in the tour Nick checked the for last time stamp of the traffic systems cameras that had caught sight of him. Yelling a few select profanities Nick headed back towards the last place Millers car was spotted. As he came to the light he knew this section of town it was a decent area and the police were almost always in force in this area. It was the perfect place to maintain cover if you were in trouble without any back up. Hell just a block up was the Gilmore, a place where Nick and Miller had some tangled memories.
As he looked around the area he knew a few places in the area that would be relatively safe and would be easy to conceal ones identity. The first was the Gilmore but Nick highly doubted Miller would go there after watching Mr. Kyuusai's bloody end. Nick drove around the area for a bit paying attention to the hotel names and the structures around here . After nearly an hour it seemed that Nick had nailed two possibilities where Miller could be holding up. First he Checked a lavish hotels records for new arrivals nothing for the last six hours which couldn't have been the one Miller checked into. The Other was nice, but seemed to be less lavish than the first if Nick could only find Millers car it would help him nail down which of the two Miller had gone into.
Spotting a parking garage near to the Hotel Nicks eyes narrowed over the structure and then he saw what he was hoping to find. A Security system sadly however it was a closed circuit system with very few access points that would be accessible. That would be Millers kind of choice pulling up to the gate Nick deposited a little money for a two day pass for use and drove up the inclines looking around for the car that he had been tracking. Thankfully it was easier using the thermal function of his eye to locate Millers car among the endless rows. Finding Millers car was pretty easy as it was the second hottest engine in the whole structure. Parking along side of it Nick popped his door open and stepped out of the Omega Opal.
Within a few Minutes Nick was standing in front of the swanky hotel his eyes looking over the numerous floors and vast expanse of windows. " This is going to take a while.....why the hell can't he just live in a cabin in the middle of the woods at least then I would be sure which door he was behind." Grumbling a little more to himself he walked into the front door of the Hotel and towards the counter his eyes on the concierge. As he approached the man behind the counter he smiled a little and pulled out a wallet with enough false information to make Section One choke. " Excuse me, but I am in need of a room for the next few days would you have anything available ? ". After a few minutes of baffling the poor man with bullshit Nick walked off with a key to a room on the eighth floor.
As Nick got into the elevator he lifted a cell phone out of his pocket and had it auto-dial Dora. Chances of him getting her seemed slim, but in case he did catch her he could at least have her warn Miller that Nick was coming to see him, and not to shoot first. Waiting for the rings Nick pressed the button for the eighth floor.
Darrell
Johnathan held Triscity tight against him and carried her over to one of the beds in the hotel room, setting her down in his lap while he rested on the foot of the bed. He glanced over Triscity to Mike; Mike nodded quietly, and decided now might be a good time to get some ice, so left the room to do so.
"Shhh, shh", Johnathan motioned for Triscity to be quiet, "Slow down sweetie. Take a deep breath, it's all going to be okay, you don't have anything to worry about."
He would then get Triscity to explain, in more detail and with more spaces between her words, exactly what had happened. From the time she got the vision to the time when Johnathan surprised her outside the bathroom. His information, up to that point, had been extremely scarce at best and thus he needed to be more sure of what was going on.
Once Triscity had finished, Johnathan fell into deep thought for a moment, mulling the situation over in his head. After a few minutes of silence, he smiled at Triscity and motioned at the two bags he'd dropped on the floor shortly after coming in.
"I brought you some clean clothes and a few toys to play with; we'll treat this like a little vacation", Miller smiled and patted Triscity on the stomach, "We'll take a few days off and everything will be fine."
Deep down, he wasn't quite sure how fine everything would be, but he was intent on keeping his daughter safe no matter what happened. Johnathan Miller had worked very hard to keep his little girl seperate from his work, doing everything in his power to hide whatever details he could from her, and going out of his way to hide Triscity's existence from those who might see her as a bargaining chip. Even though he had been retired for quite some time, people in the business still held grudges. ZCorp, the DeLioncourts, Eve--there was a long list of grudge-holders.
Mike came back in shortly with some ice that he put away in the small refridgerator supplied by the hotel. The door was locked and chained, the curtains were drawn over the windows. Johnathan turned the TV on for Triscity and let her watch cartoons while Mike and he sat together around a small wooden table on the other side of the room. Johnathan checked what Triscity had told him with Mike to make sure he had everything right, at least in part. Most of it was as much a surprise to Mike as it had been to Johnathan, since Mike hadn't really had time to bring himself up to speed on what was happening, he just knew he had to keep Triscity safe.
"Sorry you got brought into this, Mike. You can leave if you want, I can handle things from here."
"Nah, don't worry about it, I'm used to it", Mike leaned back in his chair, "How bad do you think it is?"
Miller spoke low enough to keep Triscity from hearing--he didn't want to worry her, "I'm not sure. Could be very bad or not so bad, depending on who it is we're talking about. I've never heard of a 'Saint', but from what Triscity tells me, he's either an amateur or sadistic. Neither of the two is all that fun to think about."
Mike nodded, "What are you going to do?"
"Not sure, to be honest. Try to keep our heads down for now, see what happens. If we're lucky, the cops will catch him and we can all sleep easy. I doubt I'm that lucky though. I might have to call some old business associates, see if they recognize this guy, maybe give me some information about him. At least let me know how worried I should be."
In the pit of his stomach, he had a feeling he should be very worried.
Meanwhile, quite some distance away in a little white house with a little picket fence, a phone was ringing in the study. It rang four times in the dark room before a small lamp clicked on, and revealed a woman in pink flipflops and a nightgown, obviously stirred from the depths of a warm sleep. She answered the phone on the start of the seventh ring.
"Dora."
Itacelis
A rambling of words rarely spoke volumes of information, and so once upon his lap and fairly settled, she told the story from the beginning to end. Of course it wasn't really the end, not yet. When she was finished, she watched him in his silent contemplation. It didn't last long before he pointed out the distraction, and Triscity hopped up from his lap to the bags to search through them.
"Oooh, thank you, Daddy!" she cooed, looking over new clothes and toys. A delight!
A glance up only when Mike came in with the ice, she watched the two convene at the wooden table away from her. Despite her best efforts to ignore the television... it was cartoons. Triscity had a weakness for cartoons. In the distraction of the T.V. she had no chance of overhearing what her father and Mike were talking about. Probably just the way they wanted it.
For now she was just along for the ride, even though she was the one who started the whole thing. But she was a little girl, and ultimately Johnathan was good at what he did. In the past it may have been taking out some targets. Now, it was keeping his daughter safe. Even so, he was damned good.
Mithrandirxx
Nicks eyes fixated on the buttons for the elevator as it went up and up. The gold finnish around the buttons sparkled brilliantly causing Nicks real eye to begin to ache. This hotel was pretty swanky but more than that how anyone could want to be in such a place for longer than ten minutes seemed a bit excessive. As the phone rang at Dora's home Nick started to tap his foot in time with the rings it was rather unsettling for it to ring six times with out even a machine. He would hang up on the eighth ring he thought to himself. In the middle of the seventh ring Nick heard a cracking and almost noticeably angry voice say Dora. Nick could feel the color wash from his face at the tone of voice.
Nick looked at hist watch a moment after hearing Dora, it seemed he must have awoke her and she seemed to be much less than happy . " Dora, this is Nick D. sorry for waking you up, but I am looking for Miller, I was able to follow his trail to this god forsaken hotel, its so bloody gaudy that it makes my eye hurt, but I need you to call him and tell him I am in the main elevator and will be in room eight zero four in about three minutes, I don't want a shooting war or anything of that style I am just wanting to talk to him for a little bit. Thanks alot Dora I owe you one! Bye " Nick said all in one breath. There were few things in the world Nick seemed to fear of all of them angry women seemed to be the most vicious and dangerous, not that, that had ever stopped him from pissing them off, but at least he could threaten to shoot them, but that was not an option with Dora, or Nerissa for that matter. Waiting for a word from her that she had got it all or needed it said again Nick held the phone tightly to his ear while he tried not to breath.
Suddenly the doors to the elevator opened with a loud ding and nick stepped out of the golden box from hell, his eyes gravitating towards the room numbers as he walked down the hall. Coming up to the door for room eight hundred and four Nick slipped out the key card and slid it across the door lock walking in slowly.
Pulling over to the shoulder of the road and turned on his laptop. Yevgeny searched for a local wireless internet connection it took a few seconds but then he hit a gold mine. A strong connection with out any encryption codes to access it. Accessing the School district took only a few clicks on the touch pad and he was in. Yevgeny smiled a little as he hacked his way through the Ayenee Capital City School district his eyes remained on the screen as his searched pulled up three little girls named Triscity.
Licking his lips he felt a surge of excitement run down his spine. "The Prey is close" He said to himself as he saved each of the girls data onto disk and disconnected from the local neighborhoods wireless internet connection.
The Police seemed to be headed off to another crime scene now leaving Millers home covered in yellow tape. Yevgeny wanted to head back but that would be risky and he had all he needed now.
Pulling back onto the main road he smiled as he headed for his first target Lamb Elementary school. He could not guess which Triscity was which, well he could, but why let the odds keep you down when you can kill all possible targets as easily as killing one ? He knew he would have to come up with a plan, but most of the schools in the city were pretty lax on security let alone the heating systems so that would be his in. Pulling up to Lamb he reached over to his glove compartment and pulled out a mini-digital camera taking a few pictures as he went around the building. One building done another two to get too.
Darrell
Most of Dora’s replies were muttered, guttural growls that were rather unbefitting of a lady but very befitting of a lady who hadn’t had her coffee that morning. She was a professional though, and through the haze she wrote down what information sounded most important and tried to remember everything else. At the name of “Miller†she seemed to startle awake a bit more—it had been a while since she had heard from Johnathan, and she missed him deeply. The two had always been close friends, but after he had retired to try and give Triscity a safe life, he had been on the run so much they had little time to reconnect. Her mind faded into memories of iced tea on the porch and crossword puzzles in the living room. Nick’s voice snapped her back into reality.
“Okay, I can’t promise I can get hold of him, but I’ll try. Room 804?â€, she paused while he confirmed, “Okay. Okay I’ll tell him. Good night.â€
Dora muttered something under her breath while she flopped down into the leather seat of her desk and pulled out a notebook. She kept the desk, and indeed the whole house, very clean and organized. Between phone calls and jobs she had a lot of time, and she spent a good part of it feeding her obsession of an immaculate household. The wood was polished to a mirror shine, the drawers were filled with notebooks neatly stacked and organized, the desktop had a green vinyl calendar, a telephone, and a rolodex. In the reflection of the desk she saw her reflection and frowned at the mess of her hair. Maybe she needed to get rid of that shine after-all.
She fought the urge of sleep with a shake of her head and slipped on a pair of reading glasses while she flipped through several pages, each filled with various lines of notes, numbers, and names. They were written in a very subtle code she had developed over time from the old man from whom she had inherited this job, so anyone who discovered them would have to work for some time to gain an idea of what she was talking about. About mid-way through she stopped and ran her fingers down the page. The section was “Johnnyâ€, there were several numbers written down. She glanced at one of the five, and picked up the phone.
* * *
Many miles away, Johnathan lay beside Triscity on one of the twin beds of the room. There was no light in the room save for the soft glow of the television whose cartoons held Triscity entranced. There was a glass of Coke which Johnathan had poured for himself, but the melted ice and water ring on the lampstand testified to the lack of attention he’d given it. Mike’s light snoring occasionally arose from the other bed. Johnathan spoke little, his mind busy considering the situation at hand, but he was still happy to talk and joke with Triscity, hugging her and enjoying her being near again. But in the back of his mind, he worried and feared for her safety, and it was a dark spot on the joy of the moment.
His cellphone rang on his chest and startled Miller from his thoughts, and his hand picked it up before it finished the first ring. Mike had woke up almost instantly and was reaching for the gun under one of the pillows, but Johnathan waved him down. He grumbled something and collapsed back on the bed.
“Hello?â€
“Johnny?â€
“Dora?â€
He could tell she was smiling on the other end of the phone, “Hey John, it’s been a long time.â€
“It hasâ€, he returned the smile and she heard it in his voice.
“How come you didn’t tell me you were back in town?â€
His eyes glanced over to Triscity and he frowned briefly before looking up to the ceiling, “There’s trouble.â€
Dora’s smile was gone now, “I thought it must be bad if you didn’t call.â€
“It’s very badâ€, he paused, “How did you know I was in town?â€
“Well, I was having a very nice dream about being twenty-two again when the work phone rang downstairs. I figured it was pretty important by the time I got down there because it had rung six times, and when I picked it up it was Nick calling me to ask if I could call you.â€
“Nick? What did he want?â€
“Besides me wanting to call you, I’m not sure. He’s in your hotel, says it’s pretty gawdy, staying in room 804. He said he wanted to talk to you about something, but didn’t want a firefight or anything.â€
“A shoot out? Why is he worried about that?â€
“Not sure, Johnny. Might be related to your trouble though, so I’d be careful. It’s been a while since you or I dealt with Nick, and time can change people, especially in the business.â€
“I’m always careful these daysâ€, he reached out and rubbed Triscity’s back, “You said he was in 804?â€
“That’s what he said.â€
“Okay, I’ll see if I can find himâ€, he sat up on the bed, “Thanks for letting me know Dora. It’s good to hear from you again.â€
“Same here, Johnny. Call me and let me know how it goes, alright?â€
“I will, Dora. Don’t worry, I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.â€
“Drop by and see me sometime, alright? I have a new recipe for lemonade I’d like you to try. We can catch up.â€
“I’d like that.â€
There was a pause on the line.
“Well…good luck, Johnny. Tell Triscity I said hi.â€
“I will. Go back to sleep Dora.â€
“I will. Bye Johnny.â€
“Bye.â€
He knew she wouldn’t sleep; she’d sit in that desk chair until he called her back. Johnathan swung his legs over the bed and quickly took out the pistol and homemade silencer under his pillow, using his body to block Triscity’s line of sight and hoping the cartoons kept her busy. He slipped the pistol into his waistband, and the silencer into his pocket. Miller stood, slipped into a jacket he took from the back of a chair, and zipped it up half-way to cover his pistol.
When Triscity asked him where he was going, he kissed the top of her head. “That was Aunt Dora, and she wanted me to tell you hi. She also wanted to tell me that one of my friends is in the hotel and I’m going to ask him if he knows anything about our trouble.â€
He hugged her and kissed her cheek, “Daddy will be right back, don’t worry.â€
Then he walked across the room to Mike, who had fully woke at this time, and whispered in his ear. Mike nodded, got up, and walked to the door to wait on him. Johnathan paused at the phone and picked it up, clearing his throat while dialing the extension for room 804. He paused and waited while it rang. If they didn’t pick it up by the eighth ring, he would hang up. If they did pick it up:
Johnathan’s voice changed, taking on a drunken British accent.
“I say, is Nigel there? Nigel, this is Hemmings! You lazy arse I know you’re in there! What do you mean this isn’t Nigel’s room?! Bloody hell, Nigel, if you didn’t want to go to the pub then you should have said so! Blimey…â€, and then he hung up the phone.
A relatively easy way to scope the room out before he went in; if no one answered, then that meant this was probably a trap. Some assassin hiding in the shadows of the room with gun or knife in hand would undoubtedly be waiting, but Johnathan would be expecting it. If Nick answered, then he’d know at least that much was true, although he was still not inclined to trust the situation completely. Given the circumstances, he doubted anyone would act differently. On his way out he gave Triscity one last hug, then walked out the door when Mike opened it for him.
“Don’t let anyone in, Mike, unless…â€, he trailed off and Mike nodded. “I should be back in no more than an hour. If I’m not, you know what to do.â€
Mike exchanged his wishes of good luck, the door shut and locked behind them, and Johnathan went to the stairs. If there was a trap, they’d probably anticipate the elevator, and the stairs offered far more maneuvering in case there was an ambush there. He traversed them quickly, being in good shape for his age, and exited on the eighth floor. Johnathan walked down the hallway, until he came to Room 804. Glancing down one side and then down the other, seeing it was clear, he knocked on the door. Then he stood off to the side, to avoid any bullets shot through the peephole that might be coming, although he’d still be visible. His muscles were tight, like a coiled spring, waiting to see what would happen when the door came open.
Codename: Renegade
Streetlights shed their orange-white glow over the street, muting the colours of the pavement, the immaculately-cut lawns, the over-polished cars, and painted houses. Not a single window along the whole length of the street had a window illuminated. A black and white cat sauntered across the road, slipping between white picket fences. Somewhere out of sight, and night bird gave a shrill cry.
In the master bedroom of one of these wonderfully appointed houses, on this quiet, rather well-to-do street just ourside the Capital, Ryan slept peacefully beside his fiance, blissfully unaware of the shenanigans taking place in the city involving his boss, the ever-cheerful Nick Dragonsblood. He'd seen the news reports on the twisted cathedral murders, and had looked into it, just in case it should turn out to be something dangerous to his family, but that was it.
Nick knew roughly where he was, and since Ryans Codec was hard-wired into his ear, it was almost never off. If the miserable git needed him, he could call.
But for now, Ryan slept.
OOC: Just thought i'd let Nick know I was still about, since he seems to have been lacking any Omega backup for a while. Plus, I thought it'd be nice to see one of ACC's assassins NOT knowing that something was happening!
The assassin, without a code name or legend of his own, looked down the steadily descending hill towards the grand old church in the North side of Ayenee Capital city. It was a grand cathedral but in Yevgeny's opinion it was a waste of valuable space in a city where sin and money ruled far above any deity. He blended in well on the busy streets of the bustling metropolis with even steps he descended the hill towards the cathedral. His tan trench coat tied at the waist prevented the eyes of the curious from seeing the minor armory he carried with him.
It was a gloomy Monday morning the sky's gray haze had been the same for the last few days since the recent fires in the business districts. As his hard soled boots slapped the concrete of the sidewalk his eyes keep their solid gaze upon the facade of the Cathedral. As he reached the steps to the main doors he smiled brightly as he pulled them open. The church was all but empty a few elderly women kneeling in the front pews and another one lighting a candle for someone she had lost.
A Priest was in the confessional waiting for someone to admonish for their sins and give them a task or two to perform to get back in favor with their deity. As the door closed behind Yevgeny the two older women turned on their knees to look at the new comer while the women lighting her candle was too concerned with her grief to pay any heed to one entering. Yevgeny gave a curt nod to the women in the front pew as he moved around the massive pillars that held the high ceiling in place. His blue eyes shimmered in the low light as he pretended to kneel before the picture of one of the older deities that was placed upon the pillar. As he kneeled his hand slipped into his pocket pulling out a small three inch by three inch, by two inch chunk of semtex pushing it to the base of the pillar he smiled before standing up and moving to the next pillar and repeating the process. After placing the charges on the pillars he smirked as he moved across the cathedrals interior towards the confessional. As he opened up the door he took his seat and waited for the priest to speak.
The Priest mildly angry that he would have to deal with yet another confession set down his magazine and spoke clearly to Yevgeny " Welcome my son what do you have to confess, the Lord Mar Tor'k forgives all his servants, what are your transgressions? " a moment of silence passed with no more than the sounds of the two's breathing before the priest spoke again " Are you so shamed by your transgressions that you cannot speak of them?" Yevgeny cleared his throat and spoke "I have lead people to their gods, your god, and others I have shown them the only true path" he said coldly. The Priest narrowed his eyes upon the screen as he saw something flash briefly through the screen but assumed it to be merely the other mans glasses before speaking " Then you have not transgressed but done the work of the Lord, although all should pay homage to the Lord Mar Tor'k so I shall set before you a task that our Lord would find suitable for one who has led others to lesser gods."
As the priest gave some thought to the task he should set upon this man he felt a sudden pinch in his chest just above his sternum the pain was intense. Opening his eyes and looking down he saw a knife buried deep in his chest. A hand in a black leather glove was connected to the handle of the knife which had been shoved through the screen. The Priest tried to scream but found he could not gather the breath to even whimper. For a moment nothing seemed to happen the priest’s heart could be heard clearly in the confessional as it was beating so fast. As he began to fall into shock he heard his killer speak clearly the last words he would ever hear again. "I am sending you to your god may it be the one you wasted your life serving"
The Priest slumped as Yevgeny pulled the knife out of the preacher’s chest and cut a message into his skin that said "I am with my god now!" Yevgeny slipped the knife back and wiped the blood off on the priest’s hair. As he eased the knife back through the screen he placed it back in its sheath. Turning in his stance he pushed the door open and looked into the cathedral seeing the two elderly women still kneeling in prayer. Slowly he made his way to sit behind them on the pew.
As he sat he looked at the elderly women holding desperately on to icons of their god as if it would protect them from death. His hand slid into his coat as he grasped the butt of his Glock25. He drew it out slowly before aiming at the woman on the right and squeezing back the trigger. As the bullet left his gun and punched through the head of the woman leaving a small hole where it entered but where it exited was a massive hole where once the elderly woman's face had once been. The other woman started to scream but was cut short as a second bullet scrambled her brain. The woman who had been praying over the candle she had lit earlier screamed in horror at the blood soaked statue of the main deity of the Cathedral and the two women who had slumped forward dripping blood upon the fine carpet. Yevgeny stood up looking at her a long time before he closed in on her. Her fear had taken hold she was paralyzed with it. Smirking a bit he Aimed his gun not at her head but at her knees. Easing back his trigger he fired two shots into her right knee. The pain seemed to have awakened her survival instinct but just a little late. Yevgeny aimed at her other leg, as she began to beg and blubber about how she had so much to live for and how she wouldn't tell anyone what she had seen, but the bullets were fired anyway shattering her left knee cap.
She clawed at the carpet trying to drag herself away from the cruel demon of a man, yet Yevgeny was too fast. As he stood over her he smiled and kneeled at her side before grabbing her sour face and speaking clearly "Stick out your tongue bitch and I'll let you live " Fear and pain made her give in. She stuck out her tongue unaware the he was about to shove her jaw closed breaking her jaw and severing her tongue with her own teeth. It happened perfectly with sound of cracking bone and the moans and wails of the woman were a symphony to his twisted ears. She luckily slumped into unconsciousness.
Twenty minutes later.......
She was found behind the demolished cathedral in a dumpster by the police. It was one of the worst atrocities the police of Ayenee Capitol city had ever seen, save for maybe the psycho who killed children on live television. Her eyes have been cut out, her ear drums punctured, and her fingers and toes blown off and the wounds burned closed. There was only one other thing he had done to this poor woman before he tossed her into the dumpster, but it was doubtful the police would find it Yevgeny has lobotomized her frontal lobe using a coat hanger.
A few minutes after the police had found the shattered woman in a dumpster a call came in on Nick DragonsBlood's Codec that said "I have chosen my code name you can call me Saint". All Nick could do was nod and turn the codec off and speak to himself " What did you do now .....saint...."
Itacelis
The television flickered light and dark, displaying early morning cartoons, the ones only seen just before the dawn of light. Though this wasn’t unusual, at least not for the young child that was sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal in her blanketed lap. Her eyes were glued to the screen, completely entranced by such simple antics of the cartoon. The house was dark and silent around her. Early risers often rise alone.
All was well. Until, that was, her vision clouded, darkening, blotting out the television. Nor could she hear the television. There was only darkness, and she could feel nothing. There was no sensation, no stimulation. The moment there was, the young girl immediately wished that such beautiful void had remained, for the experience that followed was anything but pleasant.
It was an intense moment, filled with pain. Her eyes were aflame, her ears pierced through, fingers and toes were absent, but somehow alit with a wicked burn, and ultimately resulting in purely incomprehensible pain.
The vision ended as quickly as it began, dissipating into first nothingness, before the glow of the television returned into her sight. Though she was looking up at it, from the living room floor. Her cereal and milk spilt all over the couch. The dawn was peeking in through the blinds, and her gaze focused on a crimson touch of colouration around her. Blood dripped from her eyes, ears, and fingernails.
Staring at her hands, she reflected. Somewhere in this vision, there was a name. A single name attached only to a single voice.
Saint
Triscity wept.
The next day, all cleaned up, and at some unreasonable time of the night for a seven-year-old, Triscity sat down in her room with an old radio broadcaster. Turning the dials, she experimented with the knobs and controls until she found a frequency that didn't squeal at her, though there was a great deal of static. She was in the dark, lit only by her night-light plugged into the wall beside the closed door to her bedroom. Switching on her microphone, she spoke into it. Clearly, the voice was young, definitely a child.
"Saint." Scccchhhhsssttz. "You are," scchhttttzzzz, "murderer. A criminal, and you engage in needless death for your own sick, twisted enjoyment." Scchhtttzz. "You are no Saint." Scccchtttz.
She sat there, in silence, then. Waiting for a response. If there was one to come.
Mithrandirxx
In the darkness far into the city a smile crept over saints lips. He was not supposed to be a formal member of Omega Operations at least not one recognized by the organization proper but more of a trouble shooter for the group and the hidden partner of DragonsBlood. As the static from numerous ham radios buzzed around him he slowly pivoted his chair around as he head his name whispered into the static of one of the radios. Licking his lips he chuckled and leaned forward grabbing the hand set for the radio. " A Saint leads people to their god, and so does a murderer, there are people around the all of Ayenee who need to be released to their god comrade, I just help them find the path as I shall help you. " He said in a soft almost sickenly sweet tone.
His code name spoken clearly through the air waves meant there was a leak someone had heard someone had seen, someone else needed to die. It could have been DragonsBlood he had gone soft over the years caring more about the money than the fun of killing the wastes of flesh they were paid to remove. Yevgeny blamed Section One for Nicks new capitalistic ways. Perhaps the leak was not Nick but his wife Nerissa she was usually around Nick when she could be it was possible she had over heard. Drawing his knife his fingers brushed over the razor sharp edge a few times as he thought about his options.
"Tell me comrade where did you hear my name upon the lips of your mother as she lay dying , perhaps upon the lips over your lover as he coughed up his last ounce of blood. " He said softly his voice still soft and kind sounding yet something lurked beneath the surface something far less calming.
Itacelis
It hadn't been more than a few minutes before a voice replied. It truly struck her by surprise, having not actually expected a response. What a pleasant surprise. She did not smile, but a scowl turned upon those childish features. Again, her voice called over the radio against the grains of the static.
"A Saint leads people to their god through life. A murderer does so through death. We both know your method speaks not of a Saint, but that of a murderer. Why must you kill? Why must you destroy the lives of so many? And where I heard your name... Why... From your own mouth."
Hmmm. What would he say to that? Oh, dear, dear Triscity. Playing in yet more games meant for adults. Such was her way. It had brought her close to death many times before, and it would again.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny smiled a game indeed is what it seemed to him. Pausing a moment he allowed silence to flicker across the airwaves for a moment " From my lips you say comrade, I doubt that unless I am talking to one long dead..." He paused looking over by the TV where a copy of a movie called white noise sat. Taking a small breath he depressed the button on the radio's hand set again.
"A Saint leads them to their god the method is unimportant of how, certainly you have heard of martyrs those who die for their god and cause who are lead by a man who is called a prophet or Messiah, I just prefer a less grand title to those Yankees. " he said with a smirk before releasing the button on the radio his eyes turning to the computer and pressing a few key sequences to track the signal he was catching on that frequency. " So tell me why do their lives matter to you ? You should revel in the greatness of their joy to hear their symphony as they die, and suffer to be allowed into their gods hands"
Releasing the button he waited for her reply and the signal that would bring him to meet his admirer .....
Itacelis
And this is where she lost some major points. Triscity didn't see the trace coming. Had not expected or foreseen such an option. And for better or worse, she kept talking.
"It is important how. How is what distinguishes a murderer from a Saint. I would not expect such a twisted mind to understand a simple concept. It is beyond you. And their lives matter to me, because I have a heart. I cannot enjoy a cry of death, a last breath upon the lips of a victim as you can. As you do. I can only hope you will one day realize your mistakes, and feel sorrow for all that you have done."
And with each word, every passing second, the information was being gathered. And the address it pulled up? It was a one-bedroom home in a decent area of the city. The residence was registered in the name of one Johnathan K. Miller.
Mithrandirxx
Listening intently to her words he smiled as the computer came up with the location in GPS and then cross referenced the signal intensity and the location against the cities database finding the address of the house and who it was registered too. Miller the ultimate legend of the assassins a man who had more kills than any other single assassin. The man who had been feared and respected by everyone in the assassins guild. A man DragonsBlood looked up too and someone who had never had a real loyalty to anyone it seemed.
This was too good, too perfect for him to let slip by . Pushing the button on the hand set he made a false whimper and made it sound as if he were crying " Your right...I have been a bad bad man I have commited cold blooded murder for money and fun ....I need help get me a shrink comrade..... What I have done in the past was horrible, atrocious, and cruel.... but its nothing in compare to what I shall do next Mr. Miller " He said with a smile releasing the button on the radio and picking the frequency of the signal and holding it in his mind .
He quickly got into a mid-sized sedan and tuned the Radio system to the right frequency to her if she would reply. For a Man Miller sounded like a little girl but Miller supposedly worked alone or occasionally with Omega Ops or Section One. Clearing his throat as the doors to the warehouse opened he drove the sedan into the night heading for the address he had been able to pull from the city directory and Gps System. It was going to be a fun night.....
Itacelis
Triscity's heart stopped the moment he said Miller. Did he think she was Miller? More importantly, how did he know him?! No reply came from the radio. The little girl was busy throwing on her outside-clothes and shoving some necessities into a backpack. She had to move fast. If she'd been connected to him, she knew there were ways to connect names to addresses, and that meant she needed to flee quickly. She sat down and put her shoes on, by the radio, still.
This was not good. Not good at all. Where was she going to go? Who cared. Away from where she was, that was all that mattered. Her father would be safe, he was away, she knew that. Maybe she could get the hired help to assist her, or stall, or something. There had to be something she could do to resolve this matter. Oh yeah. She really fucked this one up.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny's eyes remained rather fixated upon the roads that marked the slow journey to his destination the home of Miller, he didn't know Triscisty existed, but that wouldn't stop him from torturing her to death for fun either. The one thing that bugged Yevgeny was the radio went silent knowing he would have to coax his prey he pushed a transmition button on the radio for a hands free conversation and spoke on to the same frequency he and Triscity had been talking on earlier. " Whats wrong Miller didn't expect me to find out who I was talking to ? Someone whos sins far out number mine on this world ?" He paused turning off of the main road and into the suburbs.
" Oh don't tell me you've lost your nerve after telling me I am such a bad bad man that you're afraid of speaking to me, come on where's the witty banter from the hero to the villan" He paused again looking up figuring that it was another one point seven miles to the house. " Come on Comrade are you so afraid ? Have you Run away on me hidding like a rabbit from the hounds ? " Another five minutes and he would be there.
Itacelis
By this time, she'd managed to get everything ready. All she needed to do was wake her guardian and let him know that trouble was likely on the way. He could decide what he was going to do, but Triscity was running either way. She was sliding on a backpack as that voice came over the radio again. She sighed, and spoke across the frequency again.
"He has nothing to do with this. Leave him out of it! And stay away, too! You're a terrible, terrible person. And what's worse is that you pride yourself in this, as though it is a trait befit of praise. And it is not! Goodbye, murderer!"
With that, she set the mic down and ran to the dining room, where her guardian had made himself a make-shift bed on the floor, sleeping next to weapons and everything. She knelt down and nudged him.
"Mike, Mike, wake up, wake up. There's a problem."
Mike, a fairly tall, well built man, woke with a start and sat up, looking at Triscity surprisingly alertly. "What's wrong?"
"Someone is coming. He's a killer, a murderer, and he enjoys it. I need to run, and so do you."
Mike was standing up, equipping several of his guns to himself, and grabbing a few more. He grabbed a duffle bag and stumbled from the house to the silver sedan that sat parked in the driveway. Shoving it all into the back seat, he went in for another trip of things, and grabbed Triscity's hand, pulling her from the house, too. They locked the door behind them. Triscity was ushered into the passenger's seat, and Mike climbed in and started up the car.
"Buckle up, kid. Your father will kill me if you get hurt," Mike said, though whether this was true or just a figure of speech, who knew.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny smiled as the voice of his little friend came back listening for a few seconds he smiled " So that's not Miller, that's a relief, I don't know if I could take having a grown man sound like that...." Smirking it seemed like Miller was a decent assassin leaving his house in the care of a women or perhaps a child a far easier target someone Miller couldn't care about to leave them in such an obvious choice for a hit. Licking his Lips with a sadistic grin crossing them he spoke into the Radio he was closer now and would like to slow his friend a bit more " So Tell me why should i leave Miller out of this he's left you for dead ?"
As Yevgeny turned his car he was almost there, in another three minutes he would be in the driveway. As Nothing seemed to be coming over the speaker he grimaced " Runner" He said to himself. He Loved the hunt and the feeling of his knife tearing off chunks of flesh of those he hunted. It was a thrill and more than that it was how he got his old nickname of the Butcher in Russia. It was of little consequence if his comrade ran but it would make it difficult to hunt her with out knowing what she looked like or what kind of transportation she had. However there could be pictures in the house that would help with that problem.
Itacelis
Triscity knew she wasn't left for dead. It would have been just fine had she not messed everything up. But she did. It was her fault this was happening, she knew that. The car pulled from the driveway and drove away, toward no particular destination quite yet. It went the speed limit, so as not to attract any unwanted attention.
Mike grumbled.
Triscity sulked.
The ride was going to be a long one. "Where are we going?" Triscity asked.
"A motel, I think," came the soft reply. And again, silence.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny pulled up to the house his eyes narrowing upon the drive way. It was obvious a car had been started here and driven off just a few minutes ago. The water trail that came from the tail pipe was evidence of that, as well as the small spot of oil that had been on the drive way for a while. " Newer vehicle........ and not a diesel...." he said to himself before strolling up to the front door it was obvious it was locked, but it wouldn't bee to hard to break it down if he needed to.
Rifling through his pockets he pulled out a small vial wrapped with electrical tape and an eye dropper attachment he placed the eye droppers nozzle intro the lock and forces some of the White phosphorous into the lock before backing up. The light from the fire in the locking mechanism was hardly visible thanks to the narrow opening in the lock. A small almost white line of smoke raised from the hole in the lock before he pushed upon the doors surface. The doors surface was warm but the lock was slag. Stepping into the house he looked around slowly as he made his way into the dinning room.
Finding a makeshift bed he placed his palm to it feeling the warmth that had not yet all disappeared but it was faint a lot fainter than it should have been had they just left. Focusing on his hearing he could hear the low dull compressor noises from the central air cooler and shook his head. Understanding why the difference in heat was so much greater than it should have been. Turning around slowly he looked around for pictures that he could use to identify his prey......(Need to know if I would find any pictures)....
Rhysis
(OOC note: Miller is not Miller in this post but more of a Stalker who trys to mimic Miller)
"SAINT!" The voice boomed from the old radio. Johnathan K. Miller, the owner of the house and famed assassin had been listening in throughout the entire conversation this unknown killer had been having with his daughter. That's the risk you took when dealing with old technology that broadcast on such an intense signal, particularly considering it wasn't used all that much any more. It was easy to listen in on, no matter where on the planet one was.
When the house was broken into, it triggered the silent alarm. That not only alerted the authorities, but told John it was happening. The radio crackled for a second, then the voice powered forth, again. "I'll give you five seconds to get out of my house. After that, you will only wish you were dead!"
Darrell
In another part of the city, a 35 year-old retired hitman was experiencing a bad case of extremely itchy ear. A young Johnathan Miller was often told by his mother that when your ear was itching, someone was talking about you. The older Johnathan Miller believed that a lot less than he did many years ago, but sitting there beside his mother in the funeral home, he couldn't help but remember the childhood memories she'd given him.
Johnathan was seated along with both his mother and father, along with several other members of his family, just outside of Ayenee Capitol City limits. They took up some thirty seats in the small funeral home, all staring forward at the casket held on pedestals near the front of the room; several people were crying, but Johnathan was not one of them. He was, however, holding his mother while she shed her tears of grief. Inside the casket was Johnathan's young cousin, Seth, who had been killed during an ATV accident several days before. Johnathan had come as soon as he'd heard the news, both to try to ease the grief of his family, but to mourn in his own way. He had known Seth very well, and had spent many hours with Seth when he was younger, playing video games or children's games out in the yard. He hadn't seen the boy in almost five years, and the many lost moments flooded his mind.
The words of the pastor hung in the air, reverberating off the walls and mixing with the tears and wadded Kleenex. Johnathan heard them, but he didn't listen to them, his mind was busy elsewhere. He had never been particularly religious nor devout, but he did believe in a right and wrong, even if he had spent a great portion of his life on the wrong side. He had killed many times, exactly how many he didn't remember, but the fact that he couldn't remember was quite convincing enough Miller had killed plenty. He hadn't known the names of most of his victims, sometimes he didn't even know why he was sent to kill them, only that when Dora called it was his job to take another life. Sitting there, holding his mother, Johnathan wondered how many funerals he'd caused over the years. How many sons had driven out to meet their mothers, to hold their family while they cried over a man or woman found dead in their apartment? The thought overwhelmed him momentarily, and he clenched his eyes tight as the urge to cry washed over him. This, he reminded himself, was why he had swore off ever going to a funeral. But his mother had called, and the part of him that remained a little boy could not say no to his mom.
He sniffed and fought off the urge, pushing it back as his mother looked up at him, her eyes red with tears and her skin touched by running lines of makeup. They shared a small smile, knowing that each supported the other. Johnathan glanced over his mother's shoulder at his father, who was speaking to his eldest daughter, Seth's mother. They, too, shared a glance of acknowledgement.
"No man whomever has died for the Lord has died in vain", the pastor spoke, "Seth was a good man. We must remember that though we mourn his body, his spirit lives on with our Father. He has gone on to meet with Father Pierce in Heaven, and they both now know eternal happiness that we shall never know so long as we remain on this Earth."
Father Pierce, Johnathan remembered, was the name of a priest who had been murdered in Ayenee Capitol City not long ago. He'd heard the report in the car on the way to the funeral home; the priest and three women had been killed. A single knife blow had killed the priest, and two bullets had killed the two near the front of the church. A third woman who had been lighting the candles, however, got the worst of the deal; they found her outside in a dumpster, mutilated near beyond recognition. Three kills showed extreme professionalism, the fourth showed an extreme amount of anger and sadism. Police were perplexed; Johnathan didn't give it much thought at the time--after all, he had a death closer to home to worry about. Still, he had said a prayer for the women, the priest, and their families. He might not have been devout, and the prayer might not have done much good, but he was sure the families would accept all the help they could get.
A few minutes later the services ended, and the group stood up and walked by the coffin, one-by-one, each stopping to offer their apologies to Seth's parents and grandparents. Johnathan was the last to walk by the coffin; he didn't look long, the rigid positioning of the body, the suit, the inches of make-up...it didn't look anything like Seth. Trailing his fingers along the edge of the coffin, Johnathan said his final goodbyes and left the funeral home to walk his parents to their car.
Just outside, he felt a sudden pulse in his jacket. His hand retrieved the small cellphone and he checked the number before answering.
"Mike?"
"John, glad I caught you. How are things at the, errr,..."
Johnathan, knowing that Triscity had an interest in death that was probably not healthy for a girl her age, had instructed Mike not to mention exactly why Johnathan had left. Mike was only to say that Miller had gone to see his family.
"It just ended, and it's going about as well as could be expected. Mom's taking it hard, all of us are. Is something wrong?"
"I think so. Triscity woke me up and said something about a murderer was coming to the house. I'm still not sure what it is she's talking about, but she had that look you told me about, the one that I should just do what she says when she says it?"
Johnathan was quiet for a few moments, enough that Mike asked him if he was there, thinking he may have lost signal.
"No, I'm here. Where are you taking her right now?"
"Well, honestly John, I don't know. I thought maybe a motel, but I'm not sure which one, and I'm not sure how far away is safe enough."
"Okay, here's what I want you to do. Pull off at the next well-lit gas station and pull up next to a payphone, I'm going to go down the street to one I saw earlier. I'll text you the number of mine, and you call me on that number. I'll tell you what I want you to do."
Johnathan knew that cellphones were not the safest thing to talk on, and with a serial killer apparently looking for his daughter, he couldn't afford to take precautions if she was right. The payphones would be far more resilient to any tapping or listening devices.
"And Mike, thanks again for watching Triscity for me. I appreciate you doing this."
"No worries, John. You've done plenty more for me without my asking, and to be honest, a lot of people in this city owe you a big debt of thanks."
"I'm not a hero, Mike. I'll talk to you in a few minutes."
Johnathan hung up the cellphone and tucked it away into his pocket. He went back to his grieving parents, aunt and uncle to explain that he would have to leave early, his daughter was very sick and he needed to go home to her as soon as possible. They understood; his Aunt and Uncle would have no child to go home to tonight, so they would not hold him back. While they spoke, Seth's casket was led out by the paulbearers, and Johnathan's eyes lingered on the smooth metal of the coffin while it was pushed into the back of the hearse. He wondered, briefly, how long it would be until he was in that coffin--before the thought went much further, he turned away from the black cadillac and went back to his rental car.
It slid off quietly onto the lonely road while the funeral procession started slowly going the other way, stretching out in Johnathan's rear-view mirror. Somewhere in front of him, his little daughter was being stalked by another murderer. No matter how far he walked away from the business, the business was always waiting for him. Just under the seat, a pistol was waiting for the business.
***
Inside the house, there would be very few photographs; Johnathan's particular line of work meant he kept very few links between himself and his home. There were a few pictures of himself, one at a carnival and another on the beach with a big fish hanging from a fishing rod. The only school yearbook he had was laying on the passenger seat of his rental car; he had brought it with him to show his parents how Triscity was doing in school. There were a lot of different books, several paintings on the wall, and oddly, a lot of photographs with those pre-made pictures still in the frames. That particular house was not one Johnathan stayed in very much, only when he needed to get away and did not want the strange feeling of a motel room. It was only being used temporarily to house Triscity and Mike while Johnathan was gone.
***
A small device Johnathan kept in his front breastpocket suddenly began to vibrate, and pulling the little box out to check it, a small red light was flashing. "Vortex Home Security" was written in small blue letters along the front; looks like someone had broke into the house. Johnathan frowned momentarily; he had been hoping Triscity's story about a serial killer were just the nightmares of a little girl. Unfortunately, a sudden break-in so soon after Mike and Triscity had left did not make the nightmare less real. The police would be at the house in a few minutes; a perk of living in a decent neighborhood. They probably wouldn't catch the guy, but one could always hope. How had the guy tracked Triscity to his home? Miller was always particularly careful about his paperwork, and he always kept his business life far from his personal life, especially since retirement.
Johnathan prayed he would not have to go to another funeral so soon.
Mithrandirxx
Yevgeny knew time was short after hearing someone call out his name in such a violent tone. Turning quickly from the living room he entered the little girls room the radio still on, the smell of the tubes burning the long years of dust accumulated upon them permeated the air. Finding a Note book he smiled and grabbed it, it was probably little more than the girls diary if anything, but still it would have clues inside.
Hearing the threat of five seconds he smirked and ran back through the main room of the house grabbing three pictures one that had someone fishing and a few showing a happy family much like the horrible ones you found already in the cases it was obvious to any assassin these were throw offs but with the low light in the house it was hard to see much more than how lighted the background of each picture was. Going out the door he got back into his sedan and smirked clicking the radios on button and smiling as he back out of the drive way.
Yevgeny spoke in a sweet kind almost child like voice into the radios hands free system to the false Miller and anyone else listening in "So tell what are you afraid of me finding in your house a few skeletons from days gone by Miller? " His eyes looking around for the perfect place to lay low he knew that if someone had instantly known that someone broke in they would call the police assassins them selves often preferred the police to be shields if they couldn't get to there first.
Licking his lips he smirked a little as he turned into a cul de sac, and parked under a large old elm. His gloved fingers moving to the glove box and pulling out a unfiltered cigarette " You know Comrade I would expect you to have had the decency to meet me face to face....lets meet say at the Cathedral they found those three dead and that woman with all the burns and wounds. Ah she screamed so beautifully for death but I promised I wouldn't kill her oh no...I left her alive......The police killed her you know thought she was dead and suffocated her......." Lifting his lighter to the end of the cigarette he pulled on the flame a few times before extinguishing the bic and waited for a reply.
Itacelis
Mike clicked the disconnect button the cell and handed it to Triscity, who looked at it with a little disappointment that she didn't get to talk to him. But she had caused this mess, perhaps it was time to let the big boys do the adult stuff. Obviously she tended to make quite a terrible situation out of what she thought was something relatively harmless.
As they drove, Mike glanced to Triscity, then back to the road, turning a right. "Triscity, I need you to stay in the car for a little bit. I'll be right back, okay? Be quiet, honk if you need help."
Their sedan pulled into a parking lot of a gas station, lit with bright white lights. The engine shut off, the doors locked Triscity inside the car as soon as Mike stepped out of it. About five minutes from the moment the last call ended, the next began with a series of rings to the number given.
The child's eyes were focused on Mike, on his lips, trying to figure out what he was saying while he spoke. What were they talking about, she wondered. Were they going to be okay? Of course she was worried, fretting about not only her safety, but her father's and Mike's, too. What had she done....
Rhysis
The radio was eerily quiet. This was not the typical crackling a popping silence one would expect when monitoring a dead channel. This was an intentional silence. It was long and drawn out. On the other end of the broadcast, several electronic devices worked their magic, scrambling the signal the radio on that end was using, while tracking the various other locations tuned into this station using a seeries of triangulation modules. In a matter of moments, it blinked forth with three possibilities. One was the home of Miller, himself. One was another location not far away. The other, the one that was broadcasting more than the others, was only able to be tracked by one of the three posts, which meant it was mobile. Granted, this meant that he wouldn't be able to actually locate it. However, it also meant that the third was likely this "Saint's" home. The fake smiled.
Edwin Starr, the real identity of the person behind the radio, may have been smart, true enough. Actually, he was a genius at the top of every class he'd ever attended. Still, with all his smarts, was was far from being an elegant speaker. The voice of Miller boomed forth again. "I have nothing to hide from you! But you will pay for interrupting my life!" Then the radio fell silent, once more.
The trick with being as much of a stalker to a former assassin was that, eventually, you would have to make yourself known to them, or they would find you out, and likely end your life. Edwin had taken an opportunity to become an informant for Mr. Miller several years ago. While they did not still speak, he was fairly certain that the legend would take any tips on someone attempting to end his daughter's life. He got out his old phone list, one riddled with various ways of contacting Miller over the years, and started dialing.
Darrell
The little blue rental car slid off the road and pulled up next to a payphone on the sidewalk; he electronically locked all the doors as he stepped out, keys dropped in his front pocket, and he quickly texted the number of the cellphone to Mike. Twenty-five seconds later, he picked the phone up moments after hearing the loud ring.
"Mike? Okay, good, I wasn't sure if that was the right number or not; hard to see through all the graffiti with no street light. Is Triscity there with you? Did you lock the doors? Can you see her from where you are? Good."
"Never pictured you as the fatherly type", Mike said with a grin after Johnathan had went through the checklist.
"Neither did I, but no one ever does I guess. Sort of like what they say about marriage; if you wait until you're ready, it would never happen."
"Thinking about getting married are you?"
"I'm getting old, Mike. It's something all men think about when they're staring down the barrel at 40. I'm too old for one-night stands and bar rendezvous. Plus, Triscity needs a mother figure in her life, and truth be told I wouldn't mind having someone to come home to."
"You mean someone to have good food and clean laundry for you to come home to", Johnathan could tell Mike was grinning again.
"Mike, I've been living alone my whole life, I have no problems cooking and cleaning. I don't need anyone to do that for me", Miller cleared his throat, "Anyway, no need to talk about that now. Is Triscity okay, is she scared?"
"She doesn't seem to be but she is pretty adult for her age, although I wouldn't blame her if she was."
"Nor would I. Alright, Mike, here's what I want you to do. I don't want you to take her to a motel; those things are too sleazy and the security is way too lax. There is a hotel inside Ayenee Capitol City called "Coburn Falls", do you know it?"
"I know it, but that place is pretty steep on price."
"Price is not something I want to worry about when my little girl is being stalked. I'll call and make arrangements for you; I want you to check in under your alias, and tell Triscity if they ask what her name is she should say "Trinidad". I don't know how much the guy knows, so we might as well assume the worst. The room will only be for two nights, just pay for it with the card I gave you before I left, I'll make sure there's enough money on it. When you get up to the room, call Room Service and ask for a banana split for Triscity, and whatever you want. I'll meet you there when I get back into town. How long did you have to pack before you left?"
Mike was rather impressed with the cool attitude with which Johnathan handled the situation, "Not very long, we were out of the house in three minutes after she told me."
"Alright, I'll stop by a 24/7 store and pick up some spare clothes for you, and a little extra things you might need. In the meantime, tell Triscity to get in the back seat and lay down, I don't want her being seen. Keep an eye on her at all times, Mike, do not let her out of your sight for even a second."
"Will-do, John."
"Good. We'll figure out what else to do later, this will have to work for now. Now, go get Triscity and bring her to the phone."
"Okay, hold on a minute", Mike and Johnathan simultaneously added another quarter to their payphones, as they had been periodically doing through their conversation.
Mike left the payphone dangling by the silver, metallic cord while he fetched Triscity from the car. He held her hand while he walked her over to the phone, and lifted her up a bit so she could hold the receiver.
"Triscity? This is Daddy, don't worry about a thing, I'm taking care of everything. I told Mike what to do, just do what he says to and everything will be okay, I promise. I'll see you later tonight, I'm going to drive back so I can make sure you're safe and I'll bring some clothes for you to sleep in. If you're a good girl, Mike will get you some ice cream later tonight, okay? Daddy loves you sweetheart, don't worry about a thing. Bye-bye."
Johnathan hung up the phone then redialed the hotel number he had in his wallet, and made the arrangements for a room for Mike and Triscity. He thanked the woman on the other end of the line, and hung up; just as he did so, he heard shouting from the other side of the street.
"Fuck you bitch, give us the money!"
"But I don't have any money, I lost my purse at the library and I was on my way to get it!"
A lightbulb flickered in an alley, and Johnathan could make out the rough shapes of figures mixed with the shadows. Looking down each side of the street, he quickly stepped down onto the road and walked across the pavement to the alley's mouth. Johnathan was still in the black suit and tie he'd worn to the funeral; his polished new dress shoes clicked on the asphalt when he stepped.
"Bullshit, fine-ass honey like you gots to be havin' some money tucked in somewhere. Maybe in your panties, huh? Maybe we should check there first, been a while since I got me a piece."
"Please, I don't have any money on me at all! But...but if you want I could come back and give you some money from my purse when I find it! Just let me go, please."
"Nah, you ain't got no money we can't let you go. Your ex-husband gave us 50 bucks a piece to make sure you didn't go nowhere."
Bunch of punk assassins, Johnathan thought when he heard that remark. The lightbulb flickered again, and there was a glint of steel in the hands of one of the figures. Miller could see the girl now, wearing a strapped dress that came down to her knees. She was backed in against the old brick wall, and three men were crowded around her. He caught her eyes looking his way, and he took his cue.
"Sloppy work, but you get what you pay for", Johnathan spoke loudly and clearly, just to make sure the three men heard him.
"What the fu...who the fuck are you?", the figure with the knife was the first to look his way. The other two weren't long in following.
"Well, since she is the stereotypical female victim being assaulted by you three stereotypical, thuggish assassins, that makes me the stereotypical, heroic passerby who has stumbled into this alley just in time to save her."
"What's a stereo got to do with this?", one of the assassins asked.
Johnathan sighed, just as the lightbulb flicked on again. He caught a good look at each of their faces, each dressed up in typically dirty, urban gear; leather jackets, torn blue jeans, dirty tee-shirts, spotless white $500 tennis shoes without even a grass stain. The one furthest on the right had the knife, the one furthest on the left had a tire iron, and the one in the middle looked like he had some brass knuckles.
The one in the middle suddenly looked very scared.
"Some crazy-ass dude in a suit thinks he's going to fuck with me? Should'a kept on goin' man, this ain't no place for heroes."
"Good thing I'm not a hero", Johnathan said with a small grin as he recalled telling Mike the same exact line not long ago.
"I know who that guy is", Brass Knuckles' voice was wavering.
"You do?", asked Tire Iron.
"You do?", asked Switchblade Knife.
"You do?", asked Johnathan Miller.
The woman might have been curious too, but instead of playing the "You do?" game, she thought it might be better to take a few steps back toward the rear of the alley.
"Dude, that's Johnathan Miller...you know, -the- Johnathan Miller."
"It is?", asked Tire Iron.
"It is?", asked Switchblade.
"It is", said Johnathan Miller.
"What the fuck is he doing out here in an alley instead of out killing somebody?", Switchblade glanced over to Brass Knuckles.
"Shit dude I don't know!"
"Bullshit, that ain't Johnathan Miller", Tire Iron was glancing Miller up and down with a close eye, "Johnathan's gotta' be way tougher than this dude."
Miller couldn't help but be slightly insulted at that remark, although his neverending shock of random people identifying him at odd times in odd places dulled the insulted feeling. Was there nowhere he could go and not be known as -the- Johnathan Miller? Maybe he needed to move.
"Dude, I swear to God that's who it is."
"Well, if that's who it is, I reckon we could find somebody who'd pay a whole lotta dough for his skull", Switchblade played with the knife in his hand.
"What about the bitch?", asked Tire Iron while motioning his head toward the rear of the alley.
"We'll kill her after we're done cuttin' up this dude. Knuckles, keep an eye on that bitch while we work."
"I'd rather not fight, and I doubt my head will be worth much to anybody", Johnathan said while he calmly began loosening his tie.
"What's the matter old man? Scared? Or has it been too long since you got into a fight--I heard you was retired."
"I am retired", Johnathan agreed while he slid his tie loose from his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, "I'm an old man who would rather not go through all this the rest of his life."
"Well you won't have to worry about going through with it long, we'll take care of that."
Then they lunged at him, Tire Iron at Johnathan's right, and Switchblade at his left. Miller jumped back to avoid the swing of the tire iron at his gut, and a quick turn to the left forced the knife at his throat to harmlessly go by. His back to the wall, he wrapped his tie in either fist, and watched Tire Iron come for him again. Miller ducked the swing at his head, and the rusty metal slammed hard into the brick wall behind him, nearly shaking it out of the thug's hand. Quick hands wrapped around the would-be assassin's arm, the tie tightening around Tire Iron's wrist. When Switchblade came for him, Johnathan spun Tire Iron around by the arm, the blade stabbing into the dirty black jacket.
"Ow shit!", Tire Iron whelped as the blade sunk deep into flesh.
Johnathan took control of the arm again with his tie and brought it up in a quick swing, bringing a whelp of pain from the stabbed owner of the limb, which was followed by another cry of injury when the old tire iron slammed into Switchblade's temple. The gang leader stumbled back, giving Johnathan some time to move. The retired Hitman quickly released the tie and stabbed his fingers hard into Tire Iron's knife wound, causing a loud shriek that echoed up and down the alley. He dropped his weapon, and Johnathan shoved him out onto the sidewalk. Miller was quick to bend down and take control of the cross of metal.
"Think you're Superman or somethin'?", Switchblade asked as he shook off the daze that hovered over him. A trickle of blood made its way to his jaw from his temple.
"Not even close, but you're free to give up and leave anyway."
"Not til I got my knife stuck in your heart, motherfucker."
Switchblade came at him again, much faster than Johnathan anticipated, and his old age made it hard to keep up. The blade tore his white shirt and black jacket, but luckily Johnathan did not find himself skewered. The professional and the amateur shared curses. Miller was the faster this time, however, and quickly spun about to Switchblade's rear, and uncerimoniously buried his tire iron into Switchblade's groin. There wasn't even a sound of pain; the thug dropped to his knees, vomitted on the wall, and promptly passed out in his own stomach fluid. Tire Iron had finally managed to get up from the sidewalk, and taking one look at his friend, remembered he had something else to do and began stumbling down the street in a haze of pain.
Knuckles hadn't moved much, frozen in place while a 35 year-old fan of crosswords took down his two friends. One was still wandering down the sidewalk, the other was laying face-down in a sick-looking orange fluid. Johnathan rolled Switchblade over with the tip of his foot so the guy didn't drown in puke; even a Hitman couldn't stand to see someone die that way.
The two men stared at each other in the alley for several long moments, one a seasoned and well-informed member of the streets, the other a retired man with salt-and-pepper hair whose name inspires and frightens people even after he stopped his career.
"I don't want to fight", Knuckles finally said while lowering his eyes from Johnathan's gaze.
"That makes two of us", Johnathan glanced beyond Knuckles to the woman kneeling close to a garbage dumpster--from the way her nose was curled, probably a lot closer than she liked.
"So...you're gonna' let me go?"
"If you want to go."
"Y...", Knuckles' face betrayed confusion, "You're not going to kill me?"
Johnathan raised a brow, "Why would I kill you?"
"Well, I mean...you're a H..."
"I'm retired", Johnathan cut Knuckles off before he could finish the sentence, "
"Oh? Oh. ...Oh! Yeah, uh, I think I'll head on home then. Thanks a lot, you know, for not killing me."
"You're welcome?", Miller wasn't really sure how to handle an apology like that.
The retired killer watched Knuckles leave calmly, attempt and fail to rouse his friend, then left Switchblade laying where he was before. Johnathan watched him go out of sight, then turned his attention to the woman in the back of the alley. As he turned his head, he saw her standing up while holding onto her purse; the sling had been cut and it dangled wounded at her side.
"Are you alright?", Miller asked while stepping over Switchblade and, more importantly, his pool of vomit.
"I'm okay. How did you know what was going on?"
"I heard the shouting from across the street at the payphone. I thought I would come see what the yelling was about."
"I suppose I should thank you. I wasn't expecting to get rescued; I'm kind of embarassed, actually. I took one of those defense classes they offered at the library, and they tell you not to shout for help because no one will come, you should always yell "FIRE!" instead. But it all happened so fast, I sort of forgot the class, never thought I'd need it you know?", the woman walked nervously up to Johnathan while eyeing the man laying down on the alley floor.
"No need to thank me, I'm just doing what anyone should do", Miller gave her a once-over while she wasn't looking; he didn't mean to, it was just a male habit. He also wanted to make sure she wasn't bruised or cut--adrenaline could dull the body's senses to the point where an individual can be wounded and be completely unaware of the injury. He thought that sounded like a good excuse for it.
"Your name is Johnathan Miller?", she looked up at him.
Miller was about to ask her how in the world -she- knew that too, but he recalled the name being mentioned earlier, and regained his composure rapidly, "Yes, it is."
"How did those men know you? Do you do this kind of thing all the time?"
"I used to work in", he paused for a moment, "Criminal management."
"Criminal management? Like taking gang members off the street...like a cop?"
"Errr, yeah, something like that."
They shared a nervous smile, their eyes meeting briefly in the shadowy curtains of the alley.
"Well...I guess I should go get my purse before it gets too late. Thank you again for your help, Mr. Miller."
"You're welcome...", he trailed off.
The woman picked up on cue, "Tiffany. Tiffany, er, Miller", she blushed momentarily.
"Tiffany Miller?"
"Yeah...weird coincidence, huh?"
"I don't think this is the first time a couple of Millers have met in an alley", Johnathan motioned with his head toward two beer bottles sitting against a brick wall; they both shared a laugh.
"Well...I guess I should go get my purse before it gets too late. Thank you again for your help, Mr. Miller."
"You're welcome, Ms. Miller"
Tiffany nervously walked by the older man, stepped over the fallen body of the thug, and left the alley. Johnathan followed her to the mouth and watched her walk away, her heels clicking on the cracked sidewalk. Miller glanced down at his wristwatch, and got into his car. It was time to drive into the city to meet Mike and Triscity, and find out what exactly is going on. The little rental car pulled away onto the lonely street and drove down to the stop sign, paused, then turned off to the right. Standing near a bus stop, Tiffany watched the red tail lights of the car vanish into the night.
***
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Edwinn Starr would dial the only phone number ever known to reliably contact Johnathan Miller, outside of the codec he'd long ago abandoned, which was the number of his ex-manager, Dora. Dora used to handle all of Miller's jobs, along with a few other hitmen in the area, although she never had the close contact to them like she did with Johnathan. Even though he was retired now, they still spoke often over the phone and at least once weekly Johnathan would come over to Dora's home for some homeade iced tea.
It was rather late, but the phonecall would nevertheless get a response from Dora who happened to be up reading at the time. "Hello?", she always answered the phone that way, even though this line was the "business" line. There was a certain dialogue to take place, of which Edwinn was probably aware from previous dealings with Mr. Miller; this was just to weed out those customers not serious about an arrangement.
Itacelis
The little girl was in the safety of the locked car, watching intently at Mike on the phone. Breathing quietly, ears straining to catch a piece of the conversation, eyes focused on trying to read his lips, but alas, she managed to understand almost nothing. There were a few things she understood. There was talk of her safety, and marriage. Neither were surprising. Triscity knew her father loved her, and she knew that she was quite the handful that it made sense to want to acquire a motherly figure for her. And now that she thought about it, she could remember observing some kind of loneliness from Miller. He needed someone. Everyone needs someone, but who was more deserving than her father? He deserved the best.
All he had to do was find himself a woman who wasn't a psycho, wasn't a killer who would get him back into the lifestyle, and wouldn't run as soon as she knew the truth about what her father used to do, and what he was still capable of doing. Surely, there had to be plenty of nice women who meet those criteria. ... Right?
Her thoughts were interrupted when Mike let the phone dangle, and came to get her from the car. Hand-in-hand, she was walked to the phone and picked up into Mike's arms so she could talk better. A smile lit her face.
"Daddy!" she exclaimed, excitement clear in her voice, but perhaps relief, too. Thank you for helping, I'm sorry, I'll explain this all the best I can later, okay? I can't wait to see you, I miss you." Pausing, she listened for a moment, and just nodded quietly, even though he couldn't see it. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. I love you, Daddy. Bye-bye."
The line went dead.
Mike set Triscity down and walked her back to the car. Opening the door for her, he directed her to lie down in the back seat.
"Howcome I have to lie down?" she asked.
"Your father doesn't want you to be seen by the person chasing us, okay? Now lie down, we've got to get going."
Triscity nodded, and lied down in the backseat as directed. Mike shut the door and climbed back into the driver's seat. In no time, they were off toward the Coburn Falls Hotel. Though it was a bit of a drive, but Triscity watched the telephone lines pass by as they eventually connected into taller and taller buildings.
"How are you feeling, Triscity?" Mike asked, glancing briefly toward the back.
"I'm okay," she said.
"Really?"
"A little worried," she grudgingly admitted.
"Thought so." Mike focused on driving, and pulled into an underground parking lot of the hotel. He found a parking spot near the elevator up. "We're here."
Triscity sat up, and unbuckled her waist. Mike unlocked her door and helped her out. Together they equiped themselves with all of their backpacks and luggage, and tottered toward the elevator. As the elevator went up, he grabbed Triscity's hand into his. The elevator gave a ding, the doors opened to the first floor, and they walked toward the front desk. Mike checked in under his alias, paid for a room with two beds, and got the key. They waddled to the fourth floor, room number 404.
Stepping inside, they both fairly breathless from toting the luggage. They unloaded themselves, catching their breath and after locking and securing all the bolts on the door, and closing the curtain to the small balcony, they each plopped down onto a bed and relaxed a moment.
"Phew," Triscity said.
"Yeah. Phew," Mike agreed.
"Do we have cable here?" she asked.
"I think so. I'm pretty sure their sign even mentioned HBO. But it's pretty late, I don't know whether it's programming you should be watching, young lady." Mike grinned, looking across at Triscity. She looked back at him, with that same grin.
"Okay, okay, you can see what's on."
Triscity smiled and sat up, pulling the remote to her and fussing with it for a while. That gave Mike plenty of time to call for some room service. "What do you want to eat?"
She looked up only briefly before looking back down to the remote and television.
"Uhmmm. What are you going to get?" she asked.
"Nachos."
"I want nachos, too."
"Copy-cat. Do you want ice-cream?"
"Ooooh. Ice-cream, yes. Can I have a banana split?"
Mike just nodded and grinned, dialing up the room service line on the hotel room phone and placing the order.
Triscity flipped through the channels, and muttered quietly a thought that flashed through her mind.
"Why would I kill you? I'm retired."
"What?" Mike asked, looking at her with his brows furrowed, very much confused if he heard what he thought he had.
"Huh? Nothing," she replied, and found a cartoon to watch on the Cartoon Network.
"Right," Mike just shook his head. Triscity was about as strange as Miller was. Somehow fitting. Though he had to wonder how Miller ended up with a little girl in his care in the first place. He'd be there soon enough.
Now, it was time to wait.
Mithrandirxx
Watching carefully out his windows as he took a drag from his cigarette he could see the flashing lights of the police cars as they moved towards the house that once housed a little girl with a eccentric name and supposedly the infamous assassin Johnathan Miller. It seemed odd that Miller would have such a house to live in consistently let alone have a daughter, who was as stupid as this girl seemed. Yevgeny smiled as he pulled another puff of smoke from the unfiltered cancer stick finding his new friend had gone so silent. Talking into the system again he smiled brightly " Well Miller it seems you have pissed yourself, and are probably praying to your impotent god, about now, So let me tell you something, you can expect me to play with your darling daughter for a few hours before she's released from this world".
Technology was a wonderful thing as Starr was locating a transmitter beacon out about two miles from his little makeshift home, Yevgeny pressed the button on the cars radio system switching frequencies and then shutting off completely. It was not that Yevgeny knew he was being traced but more of the fact that he had to get moving and talking was only delaying his finding of the girl. Turning on the engine he pulled out of the cul de sac his eyes narrowing upon the road that went in front of Millers home. Two main directions they could have gone, but with as much time as had passed he knew he wouldn't find them easily.
Yevgeny knew well that any father would not take his daughter to a sleazy motel especially one who knew the game as well as Miller did. The best course of action was to go to another safe house one with out lines out of the house, or they went to an upper class hotel under an assumed name which would be equally impossible to find for the time being until he was able to hack the school records for the area. There would be a very small amount of names like the one found on the notebook he found Triscity, It was too easy a name to locate once he would get to his computer. Arriving at the same gas station as Mike and Triscity had been at only a little while ago would have been nice to know, but he didn't. Flicking his cigarette out into the street he opened his cars fuel tank and began to fill it. Walking into the store he paid for his gas as well as a pack of unfiltered luckys in cash.
Nick was inside a Cafe his eyes narrowed upon the street out side he could tell someone was up to no good, but Nick learned from Joseph that if you stick your neck where it doesn't belong it will get cut off. Grumbling a little to himself he was about to stand up and put his neck out when he saw a familiar looking man heading into the ally on the other side of the street. "Miller......what the hell ? " he said to his over sweetened cup of coffee. It seemed Miller had taken one the task of being a local hero. It was like Batman with out the tights or masks. Standing up slowly and leaving a dollar seventy five on the table Nick walked out of the cafe his eyes trained on the alley. He could see flashes of the fight between the flickering of the light bulb.
It was obvious that the street punks were out classed, but that always seemed to be the things worked out when it came to Miller. Sliding his hand into his pocket he smirked and walked towards the alley, It was obvious that the kids had been beaten senseless for the most part well save for the leader. He seemed to be talking a lot to Miller, and thanking him for not killing them. A cold look crossed Nicks eyes as the two youths staggered out of the alley, completely ignoring Nick altogether and trying to get the hell out of dodge.
Nick smirked as they passed him, Miller seemed to have gone easy on them, but that didn't mean he had lost his talents nor that he had thrown in the towel. Nick could have sworn there were three men besides Miller in that alley, and only two had left. Nick had to be careful, because weather or not Miller had retired seeing a real assassin waiting for you when you come out of a poorly lit alley would make anyone a little worried. Turning quickly Nick moved away from the mouth of the alley and watched as Miller walked over to his car and got in.
Watching as Miller left he let out a long sigh, it had been a long long time since they had spoken let alone seen each other. Miller had indeed looked older, yet he still seemed to be spry as ever. " Seems the ghosts of the past keep tossing you into my business and me into yours, Miller " He said softly with a light chuckle. Miller had been at the tech Heist where Saint cut Mr. Tenshi Kyuusai's throat, bathing his little girl in blood. Now Nick had been privy to Millers graceful take down of three would be assassins.
Renegade and Wolf had lost track of Miller after the expo, in part because Nick had been unconscious. Now once again their worlds were intersecting. Calmly walking across the street and over the cracked and painted concrete he entered the parking lot of the cafe, and got into his car debating with himself weather or not to follow Miller.
Darrell
Johnathan was quiet while he drove the little rental car down the relatively lonely outskirts of Ayenee Capitol City, his stereo playing WXYZ's All Eighties Hour; "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" was currently the requested song. When the DJ chimed in at the end of the song, announcing the artist, Johnathan suddenly hit his brakes and pulled off to the side of the road. He retrieved a pen from his dashboard and a rolled up paper from inside the glove compartment, quickly flipping around to the back. His eyes picked out:
"25 Across: Artist of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn"."
He quickly penned in "Poison" in the open boxes, happy to have that little monkey off his back, he'd been knocking his head around that one all day. While a fan of 80's music, and despite his profession that one might think would lend itself to remembering that sort of name, Johnathan was notoriously bad at remembering the names of artists--even of songs he was very fond of. Miller quickly penned in two other words connecting with 25 Across, replaced his pen and paper, then pulled back out onto the road.
Several minutes later he stopped by a 24/7 Mall Mart and quickly filled the shopping cart up with various necessities. Some extra changes of clothes, nothing flashy or namebrand, along with some toiletries, magazines, and some duffel bags. He took a bit longer than necessary, as was his usual custom, making sure there were no odd followers on his tail. Johnathan was rarely ever tailed anywhere, as his rather mundane appearance and habits made him about the most boring person to follow around as anyone could find; combined with his average appearance making it relatively easy to blend into a crowd, Johnathan Miller managed to live beneath the radar of most parties. In Ayenee Capitol City, there were a lot more dangerous-looking and interesting parties to follow around than some salt-and-peppered old man with a fondness of crossword puzzles and scotch.
He checked out in Aisle 2; it was one of two available aisles at this hour. The other was a self-automated machine where a customer could check themselves out and bag their own groceries without the convenience of contact with other humans. Johnathan had tried to use one several weeks ago, but after managing to somehow turn a briefcase and magazine into a bill of $450 while simultaneously breaking the machine, he had decided that he would stick to letting other people handle his items. Miller paid cash, again, as was his custom. Long ago he'd learned to avoid the dangers of unnecessary paper trails that credit cards and checks can leave. He always made sure to carry enough cash to handle any non-major purchases he needed to make, without carrying too much money as to appear suspicious and invite unwanted questions. Johnathan took his change, thanked the cashier, took his bags and returned to his car in the parking lot.
It was another 35 minutes of driving before he pulled up to the hotel he'd instructed Mike and Triscity to. He could have made it in 20, but he did some extra driving to make sure no one was following--he certainly didn't want to lead the fox to the henhouse. He took the extra time to listen to a few extra songs, and let his mind wander from various spot to spot in his memory. He thought about the woman in the alley and wondered why he didn't bother to get her name, he thought about what kind of psycho wants to stalk and kill a little girl (Then he promptly remembered Eve and decided he didn't want to go down that memory lane). He briefly remembered the Tech Expo and the hit he'd seen, although he was unaware of the connection to Saint, but he remembered the look on the father's face as he died and the tears of the little girl as she was orphaned. Again, he decided that memory lane was not something he wanted to travel right now; he had his own little girl to worry about orphaning.
He parked the car in a garage near the hotel, put the items he'd bought at Mall Mart into the duffel bags he'd also purchased; the black with red straps held Mike's items, the black with blue straps held Triscity's. He also took out a briefcase, which had been packed previously with a few clothes when he was planning on staying at his parent's for Seth's funeral, and carefully managed to slip his pistol beneath his underwear while avoiding the prying eye of the mounted camera by careful angling of the rented vehicle and his body. Of course, he also packed his crossword and pen so he could hopefully finish it before the night was over. When he finished, Johnathan put the duffel bags over his shoulder so the straps made an uncomfortable "X" on his chest, took the briefcase in his right hand, and wandered off for the hotel.
It was a rather uncomfortable walk, but Johnathan was in good shape for his age and thus managed the trip without much difficulty. No one in the lobby gave him much of a second look; he looked well-off enough to stay in the hotel, poor enough that no one was rushing to help him for a big tip. He walked through the lobby with a confident stride and glare; if you looked confident and acted like you were supposed to be doing whatever it was you were doing at the time, everyone would assume you were doing just that and leave you alone. It's when you get nervous and shifty-eyed that people ask questions. The elevator opened up for another gentleman as Johnathan walked up to the metal doors. He stepped inside, pushed his floor number, and rested against the rear wall. The man who had called the elevator earlier got off three floors before Miller, and each exchanged a friendly elevator-brother nod when they parted company.
When the doors opened a second time, Johnathan stepped out onto the plush red carpet and looked for the right room number. On his way out, he ran his fingers up and down the numbers, illuminating them all--just to make sure no one would know exactly what floor he got off on, and to tie up that particular elevator for a while, again, to elude any pursuers. Finding it, he knocked three solid times and waited in front of the peephole. Through the little glass circle he could see the light inside the room, and subsequently the absence of it as someone stood in front of the door to check. Miller gave a few glances down the hallway to either side while he waited for the door to be opened.
"Hey John, you got here earlier than I thought. Come on in, let me help you with those bags", Mike stood back to make room for Johnathan to get through the door and slipped one of the duffel bags from his shoulders in the process.
"Came as quick as I could, had a few delays and took a little extra time to do the usual so I wouldn't be followed", Johnathan shed his briefcase and remaining duffel bag to the floor, "Where is Triscity?"
"She's in the bathroom. Ate a little too much ice cream I think, she said she had a tummy ache", Mike nodded to the closed bathroom door, "How sure are you that you weren't followed?"
"Not sure at all. I suppose we'll find out shortly if I was wrong. Do you have your gun with you, just in case?"
"Always. You?"
"Same."
From the bathroom, Johnathan could hear the sink water running, and quietly crept over to the door. He put his finger to his lips for Mike, and crouched down a bit behind and off to the side of the bathroom. Moments later, the water stopped and the door opened, and out came little Triscity; tired from lots of sugary sweets. She gave Mike an odd look when she saw him grinning, but before she could ask any questions Johnathan latched his arms around her waist and pulled her up off the floor. He wasted no time to hug her tightly and kiss the top of her head.
"Hello Triscity, Daddy's home!"
Itacelis
Alas, Triscity was not immune to a stomach ache from eating too much ice cream. She was feeling a little sick for a while. After complaining miserably for about five minutes, Mike had suggested she go to the bathroom and get some water, or decide whether she needed to upheave. With a groan, she disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Mike was smart like that. After drinking some water and just sitting down, the aches in her stomach subsided, though it left her quite tired and exhausted. Not that she really wasn't already. It had been an exciting night, after all. Bed-time would come soon, wouldn't it? The scare was over, they were safe, and everything was just fine. But where was her father? With a sigh, she pulled herself up and opened the door to step out, almost walking right into Miller's arms. She blinked, looking up at Mike strangely, and shortly thereafter she was snatched up from her feet, lifted off the ground and into her father's arms. Hers wrapped around his neck, small legs around his waist, and she smiled with genuine happiness and excitement.
"Daddy, you're back! You're gonna stay here with us, right? I'm really sorry, I was just trying to convince Saint he was bad, that's all. I saw what he did, it was wrong, and those people in the church, and that girl in the dumpster behind it... It was so terrible, what he did. I didn't think he could find me, I'm sorry," she spoke quickly, raving hurriedly and keeping ahold of him tightly. When she stopped, she sighed lightly and rested her cheek against his shoulder. He was so comfortable. There was no safer feeling than being in the loving arms of her father.
Mithrandirxx
Nick knew he could catch up to Miller, but catching up to him meant taking certain risks, the kind that were all the more reason people often didn't tail assassins. Sitting in his car his eyes narrowing to the dash display as he reached for a cigarette placing it between his lips and lighting it as he started up his car. "Yeah yeah yeah.......God damn it why not" Nick said to himself asking the question that had been reverberating in his mind since Miller had driven off. Miller was a trained Killer certainly one of the best, but still he looked at his opponents before he shot them....usually.
Pulling out of the Cafe's parking lot Nicks right eye looked down the road while his left was interfacing with the cars computer which in turn was accessing the ACC's Traffic system. Nick had to check the traffic light cameras for the same car he had seen before it was an exhaustive search. Considering the numerous points Miller could have turned off before hitting a light thankfully as Nick came to a stop light it seemed to be one Miller had hit as well. From there Nicks computer and interface system began to search the license plate number on the rental car for other traffic lights that Miller may have stopped by or driven through.
Pulling into the parking lot of Mall Mart it was a depressing place. Nicks Skin crawled as he looked over the places parking lot. " They Say liches and demons are the worst evils in Ayenee, personally I think its this place" Nick said to himself as he turned out of the parking lot and continued the growing sparser by the mile trail of Millers. Nick was growing rather tired of following massive circles and walk arounds of buildings it seemed Miller was thinking he had a tail.
Shaking his head as he came to the end of another loop in the tour Nick checked the for last time stamp of the traffic systems cameras that had caught sight of him. Yelling a few select profanities Nick headed back towards the last place Millers car was spotted. As he came to the light he knew this section of town it was a decent area and the police were almost always in force in this area. It was the perfect place to maintain cover if you were in trouble without any back up. Hell just a block up was the Gilmore, a place where Nick and Miller had some tangled memories.
As he looked around the area he knew a few places in the area that would be relatively safe and would be easy to conceal ones identity. The first was the Gilmore but Nick highly doubted Miller would go there after watching Mr. Kyuusai's bloody end. Nick drove around the area for a bit paying attention to the hotel names and the structures around here . After nearly an hour it seemed that Nick had nailed two possibilities where Miller could be holding up. First he Checked a lavish hotels records for new arrivals nothing for the last six hours which couldn't have been the one Miller checked into. The Other was nice, but seemed to be less lavish than the first if Nick could only find Millers car it would help him nail down which of the two Miller had gone into.
Spotting a parking garage near to the Hotel Nicks eyes narrowed over the structure and then he saw what he was hoping to find. A Security system sadly however it was a closed circuit system with very few access points that would be accessible. That would be Millers kind of choice pulling up to the gate Nick deposited a little money for a two day pass for use and drove up the inclines looking around for the car that he had been tracking. Thankfully it was easier using the thermal function of his eye to locate Millers car among the endless rows. Finding Millers car was pretty easy as it was the second hottest engine in the whole structure. Parking along side of it Nick popped his door open and stepped out of the Omega Opal.
Within a few Minutes Nick was standing in front of the swanky hotel his eyes looking over the numerous floors and vast expanse of windows. " This is going to take a while.....why the hell can't he just live in a cabin in the middle of the woods at least then I would be sure which door he was behind." Grumbling a little more to himself he walked into the front door of the Hotel and towards the counter his eyes on the concierge. As he approached the man behind the counter he smiled a little and pulled out a wallet with enough false information to make Section One choke. " Excuse me, but I am in need of a room for the next few days would you have anything available ? ". After a few minutes of baffling the poor man with bullshit Nick walked off with a key to a room on the eighth floor.
As Nick got into the elevator he lifted a cell phone out of his pocket and had it auto-dial Dora. Chances of him getting her seemed slim, but in case he did catch her he could at least have her warn Miller that Nick was coming to see him, and not to shoot first. Waiting for the rings Nick pressed the button for the eighth floor.
Darrell
Johnathan held Triscity tight against him and carried her over to one of the beds in the hotel room, setting her down in his lap while he rested on the foot of the bed. He glanced over Triscity to Mike; Mike nodded quietly, and decided now might be a good time to get some ice, so left the room to do so.
"Shhh, shh", Johnathan motioned for Triscity to be quiet, "Slow down sweetie. Take a deep breath, it's all going to be okay, you don't have anything to worry about."
He would then get Triscity to explain, in more detail and with more spaces between her words, exactly what had happened. From the time she got the vision to the time when Johnathan surprised her outside the bathroom. His information, up to that point, had been extremely scarce at best and thus he needed to be more sure of what was going on.
Once Triscity had finished, Johnathan fell into deep thought for a moment, mulling the situation over in his head. After a few minutes of silence, he smiled at Triscity and motioned at the two bags he'd dropped on the floor shortly after coming in.
"I brought you some clean clothes and a few toys to play with; we'll treat this like a little vacation", Miller smiled and patted Triscity on the stomach, "We'll take a few days off and everything will be fine."
Deep down, he wasn't quite sure how fine everything would be, but he was intent on keeping his daughter safe no matter what happened. Johnathan Miller had worked very hard to keep his little girl seperate from his work, doing everything in his power to hide whatever details he could from her, and going out of his way to hide Triscity's existence from those who might see her as a bargaining chip. Even though he had been retired for quite some time, people in the business still held grudges. ZCorp, the DeLioncourts, Eve--there was a long list of grudge-holders.
Mike came back in shortly with some ice that he put away in the small refridgerator supplied by the hotel. The door was locked and chained, the curtains were drawn over the windows. Johnathan turned the TV on for Triscity and let her watch cartoons while Mike and he sat together around a small wooden table on the other side of the room. Johnathan checked what Triscity had told him with Mike to make sure he had everything right, at least in part. Most of it was as much a surprise to Mike as it had been to Johnathan, since Mike hadn't really had time to bring himself up to speed on what was happening, he just knew he had to keep Triscity safe.
"Sorry you got brought into this, Mike. You can leave if you want, I can handle things from here."
"Nah, don't worry about it, I'm used to it", Mike leaned back in his chair, "How bad do you think it is?"
Miller spoke low enough to keep Triscity from hearing--he didn't want to worry her, "I'm not sure. Could be very bad or not so bad, depending on who it is we're talking about. I've never heard of a 'Saint', but from what Triscity tells me, he's either an amateur or sadistic. Neither of the two is all that fun to think about."
Mike nodded, "What are you going to do?"
"Not sure, to be honest. Try to keep our heads down for now, see what happens. If we're lucky, the cops will catch him and we can all sleep easy. I doubt I'm that lucky though. I might have to call some old business associates, see if they recognize this guy, maybe give me some information about him. At least let me know how worried I should be."
In the pit of his stomach, he had a feeling he should be very worried.
Meanwhile, quite some distance away in a little white house with a little picket fence, a phone was ringing in the study. It rang four times in the dark room before a small lamp clicked on, and revealed a woman in pink flipflops and a nightgown, obviously stirred from the depths of a warm sleep. She answered the phone on the start of the seventh ring.
"Dora."
Itacelis
A rambling of words rarely spoke volumes of information, and so once upon his lap and fairly settled, she told the story from the beginning to end. Of course it wasn't really the end, not yet. When she was finished, she watched him in his silent contemplation. It didn't last long before he pointed out the distraction, and Triscity hopped up from his lap to the bags to search through them.
"Oooh, thank you, Daddy!" she cooed, looking over new clothes and toys. A delight!
A glance up only when Mike came in with the ice, she watched the two convene at the wooden table away from her. Despite her best efforts to ignore the television... it was cartoons. Triscity had a weakness for cartoons. In the distraction of the T.V. she had no chance of overhearing what her father and Mike were talking about. Probably just the way they wanted it.
For now she was just along for the ride, even though she was the one who started the whole thing. But she was a little girl, and ultimately Johnathan was good at what he did. In the past it may have been taking out some targets. Now, it was keeping his daughter safe. Even so, he was damned good.
Mithrandirxx
Nicks eyes fixated on the buttons for the elevator as it went up and up. The gold finnish around the buttons sparkled brilliantly causing Nicks real eye to begin to ache. This hotel was pretty swanky but more than that how anyone could want to be in such a place for longer than ten minutes seemed a bit excessive. As the phone rang at Dora's home Nick started to tap his foot in time with the rings it was rather unsettling for it to ring six times with out even a machine. He would hang up on the eighth ring he thought to himself. In the middle of the seventh ring Nick heard a cracking and almost noticeably angry voice say Dora. Nick could feel the color wash from his face at the tone of voice.
Nick looked at hist watch a moment after hearing Dora, it seemed he must have awoke her and she seemed to be much less than happy . " Dora, this is Nick D. sorry for waking you up, but I am looking for Miller, I was able to follow his trail to this god forsaken hotel, its so bloody gaudy that it makes my eye hurt, but I need you to call him and tell him I am in the main elevator and will be in room eight zero four in about three minutes, I don't want a shooting war or anything of that style I am just wanting to talk to him for a little bit. Thanks alot Dora I owe you one! Bye " Nick said all in one breath. There were few things in the world Nick seemed to fear of all of them angry women seemed to be the most vicious and dangerous, not that, that had ever stopped him from pissing them off, but at least he could threaten to shoot them, but that was not an option with Dora, or Nerissa for that matter. Waiting for a word from her that she had got it all or needed it said again Nick held the phone tightly to his ear while he tried not to breath.
Suddenly the doors to the elevator opened with a loud ding and nick stepped out of the golden box from hell, his eyes gravitating towards the room numbers as he walked down the hall. Coming up to the door for room eight hundred and four Nick slipped out the key card and slid it across the door lock walking in slowly.
Meanwhile...
Pulling over to the shoulder of the road and turned on his laptop. Yevgeny searched for a local wireless internet connection it took a few seconds but then he hit a gold mine. A strong connection with out any encryption codes to access it. Accessing the School district took only a few clicks on the touch pad and he was in. Yevgeny smiled a little as he hacked his way through the Ayenee Capital City School district his eyes remained on the screen as his searched pulled up three little girls named Triscity.
Licking his lips he felt a surge of excitement run down his spine. "The Prey is close" He said to himself as he saved each of the girls data onto disk and disconnected from the local neighborhoods wireless internet connection.
The Police seemed to be headed off to another crime scene now leaving Millers home covered in yellow tape. Yevgeny wanted to head back but that would be risky and he had all he needed now.
Pulling back onto the main road he smiled as he headed for his first target Lamb Elementary school. He could not guess which Triscity was which, well he could, but why let the odds keep you down when you can kill all possible targets as easily as killing one ? He knew he would have to come up with a plan, but most of the schools in the city were pretty lax on security let alone the heating systems so that would be his in. Pulling up to Lamb he reached over to his glove compartment and pulled out a mini-digital camera taking a few pictures as he went around the building. One building done another two to get too.
Darrell
Most of Dora’s replies were muttered, guttural growls that were rather unbefitting of a lady but very befitting of a lady who hadn’t had her coffee that morning. She was a professional though, and through the haze she wrote down what information sounded most important and tried to remember everything else. At the name of “Miller†she seemed to startle awake a bit more—it had been a while since she had heard from Johnathan, and she missed him deeply. The two had always been close friends, but after he had retired to try and give Triscity a safe life, he had been on the run so much they had little time to reconnect. Her mind faded into memories of iced tea on the porch and crossword puzzles in the living room. Nick’s voice snapped her back into reality.
“Okay, I can’t promise I can get hold of him, but I’ll try. Room 804?â€, she paused while he confirmed, “Okay. Okay I’ll tell him. Good night.â€
Dora muttered something under her breath while she flopped down into the leather seat of her desk and pulled out a notebook. She kept the desk, and indeed the whole house, very clean and organized. Between phone calls and jobs she had a lot of time, and she spent a good part of it feeding her obsession of an immaculate household. The wood was polished to a mirror shine, the drawers were filled with notebooks neatly stacked and organized, the desktop had a green vinyl calendar, a telephone, and a rolodex. In the reflection of the desk she saw her reflection and frowned at the mess of her hair. Maybe she needed to get rid of that shine after-all.
She fought the urge of sleep with a shake of her head and slipped on a pair of reading glasses while she flipped through several pages, each filled with various lines of notes, numbers, and names. They were written in a very subtle code she had developed over time from the old man from whom she had inherited this job, so anyone who discovered them would have to work for some time to gain an idea of what she was talking about. About mid-way through she stopped and ran her fingers down the page. The section was “Johnnyâ€, there were several numbers written down. She glanced at one of the five, and picked up the phone.
* * *
Many miles away, Johnathan lay beside Triscity on one of the twin beds of the room. There was no light in the room save for the soft glow of the television whose cartoons held Triscity entranced. There was a glass of Coke which Johnathan had poured for himself, but the melted ice and water ring on the lampstand testified to the lack of attention he’d given it. Mike’s light snoring occasionally arose from the other bed. Johnathan spoke little, his mind busy considering the situation at hand, but he was still happy to talk and joke with Triscity, hugging her and enjoying her being near again. But in the back of his mind, he worried and feared for her safety, and it was a dark spot on the joy of the moment.
His cellphone rang on his chest and startled Miller from his thoughts, and his hand picked it up before it finished the first ring. Mike had woke up almost instantly and was reaching for the gun under one of the pillows, but Johnathan waved him down. He grumbled something and collapsed back on the bed.
“Hello?â€
“Johnny?â€
“Dora?â€
He could tell she was smiling on the other end of the phone, “Hey John, it’s been a long time.â€
“It hasâ€, he returned the smile and she heard it in his voice.
“How come you didn’t tell me you were back in town?â€
His eyes glanced over to Triscity and he frowned briefly before looking up to the ceiling, “There’s trouble.â€
Dora’s smile was gone now, “I thought it must be bad if you didn’t call.â€
“It’s very badâ€, he paused, “How did you know I was in town?â€
“Well, I was having a very nice dream about being twenty-two again when the work phone rang downstairs. I figured it was pretty important by the time I got down there because it had rung six times, and when I picked it up it was Nick calling me to ask if I could call you.â€
“Nick? What did he want?â€
“Besides me wanting to call you, I’m not sure. He’s in your hotel, says it’s pretty gawdy, staying in room 804. He said he wanted to talk to you about something, but didn’t want a firefight or anything.â€
“A shoot out? Why is he worried about that?â€
“Not sure, Johnny. Might be related to your trouble though, so I’d be careful. It’s been a while since you or I dealt with Nick, and time can change people, especially in the business.â€
“I’m always careful these daysâ€, he reached out and rubbed Triscity’s back, “You said he was in 804?â€
“That’s what he said.â€
“Okay, I’ll see if I can find himâ€, he sat up on the bed, “Thanks for letting me know Dora. It’s good to hear from you again.â€
“Same here, Johnny. Call me and let me know how it goes, alright?â€
“I will, Dora. Don’t worry, I’m a big boy, I can handle myself.â€
“Drop by and see me sometime, alright? I have a new recipe for lemonade I’d like you to try. We can catch up.â€
“I’d like that.â€
There was a pause on the line.
“Well…good luck, Johnny. Tell Triscity I said hi.â€
“I will. Go back to sleep Dora.â€
“I will. Bye Johnny.â€
“Bye.â€
He knew she wouldn’t sleep; she’d sit in that desk chair until he called her back. Johnathan swung his legs over the bed and quickly took out the pistol and homemade silencer under his pillow, using his body to block Triscity’s line of sight and hoping the cartoons kept her busy. He slipped the pistol into his waistband, and the silencer into his pocket. Miller stood, slipped into a jacket he took from the back of a chair, and zipped it up half-way to cover his pistol.
When Triscity asked him where he was going, he kissed the top of her head. “That was Aunt Dora, and she wanted me to tell you hi. She also wanted to tell me that one of my friends is in the hotel and I’m going to ask him if he knows anything about our trouble.â€
He hugged her and kissed her cheek, “Daddy will be right back, don’t worry.â€
Then he walked across the room to Mike, who had fully woke at this time, and whispered in his ear. Mike nodded, got up, and walked to the door to wait on him. Johnathan paused at the phone and picked it up, clearing his throat while dialing the extension for room 804. He paused and waited while it rang. If they didn’t pick it up by the eighth ring, he would hang up. If they did pick it up:
Johnathan’s voice changed, taking on a drunken British accent.
“I say, is Nigel there? Nigel, this is Hemmings! You lazy arse I know you’re in there! What do you mean this isn’t Nigel’s room?! Bloody hell, Nigel, if you didn’t want to go to the pub then you should have said so! Blimey…â€, and then he hung up the phone.
A relatively easy way to scope the room out before he went in; if no one answered, then that meant this was probably a trap. Some assassin hiding in the shadows of the room with gun or knife in hand would undoubtedly be waiting, but Johnathan would be expecting it. If Nick answered, then he’d know at least that much was true, although he was still not inclined to trust the situation completely. Given the circumstances, he doubted anyone would act differently. On his way out he gave Triscity one last hug, then walked out the door when Mike opened it for him.
“Don’t let anyone in, Mike, unless…â€, he trailed off and Mike nodded. “I should be back in no more than an hour. If I’m not, you know what to do.â€
Mike exchanged his wishes of good luck, the door shut and locked behind them, and Johnathan went to the stairs. If there was a trap, they’d probably anticipate the elevator, and the stairs offered far more maneuvering in case there was an ambush there. He traversed them quickly, being in good shape for his age, and exited on the eighth floor. Johnathan walked down the hallway, until he came to Room 804. Glancing down one side and then down the other, seeing it was clear, he knocked on the door. Then he stood off to the side, to avoid any bullets shot through the peephole that might be coming, although he’d still be visible. His muscles were tight, like a coiled spring, waiting to see what would happen when the door came open.
Codename: Renegade
Streetlights shed their orange-white glow over the street, muting the colours of the pavement, the immaculately-cut lawns, the over-polished cars, and painted houses. Not a single window along the whole length of the street had a window illuminated. A black and white cat sauntered across the road, slipping between white picket fences. Somewhere out of sight, and night bird gave a shrill cry.
In the master bedroom of one of these wonderfully appointed houses, on this quiet, rather well-to-do street just ourside the Capital, Ryan slept peacefully beside his fiance, blissfully unaware of the shenanigans taking place in the city involving his boss, the ever-cheerful Nick Dragonsblood. He'd seen the news reports on the twisted cathedral murders, and had looked into it, just in case it should turn out to be something dangerous to his family, but that was it.
Nick knew roughly where he was, and since Ryans Codec was hard-wired into his ear, it was almost never off. If the miserable git needed him, he could call.
But for now, Ryan slept.
OOC: Just thought i'd let Nick know I was still about, since he seems to have been lacking any Omega backup for a while. Plus, I thought it'd be nice to see one of ACC's assassins NOT knowing that something was happening!
