Fri, 22nd of February


[ 0530 ] she wakes. no alarm is needed.

[ 0535 ] shower.

[ 0545 ] apply face. she takes her time with this. her face is one of her greatest weapons, and must be applied with infinite precision. her rouge, redder than red, is nearly empty, she notes absently.

[ 0615 ] takes her coffee. black as night, sweet as sin, as she examines the dip of her lips in the gleam of her favourite pistol.

[ 0645 ] receive instructions for the hit(s) of the day. a reply is unnecessary.

[ 0715 ] the first hit is straightforward. almost insultingly so; but she’s a professional, after all. she clicks her gun like a rosary and it’s done.

[ 0900 ] the next one, however, is like a gift. she cocks her head. there are rituals, sacred techniques she learnt; but she’s always made it a point to be good to herself: boredom never sat well with her. this one deserves a plan.

[ 0915 ] she researches. what, you expectedly differently? remember: professional. there are several sources she consults, just 2 of them whispering against the benchmark of legality.

[ 1047 ] she locates her target. this one is the son of the head of a human trafficking ring. he is barely 25, but with a cruel streak centuries wide. he sits in the terrace of a rooftop cafe, flanked by 2 bodyguards, leaning towards a pretty face she identifies as disposable before deleting the information mentally.

[ 1055 ] she takes her seat at the corner of the terrace, in the shade of a rather flashy palm. she curls her lips into a smile like a ticking bomb. he notices. he comes. that’s all there is to it. men are easy.

[ 1430 ] she drives to the edges of the town. she makes him suffer, applying violence like scarlet strokes against a canvas, until his last bone breaks with an echoing crack.

[ 1525 ] she burns the body. she keeps some of the ashes, enough to fill a small glass marble that she places on her windshield. on the way back to the city, she texts J.

[ 1700 ] J comes to her apartment. his smile is like a divine blessing; he  fucks like a force of nature, making her scream to the heavens like pleas for forgiveness. she kicks him out after, because he is the second best in the business in the city, and if she’s not careful he will kill her one day. she has cauterized feeling out of herself a long time ago. it is nothing to do with that at all.

[ 2100 ] she goes to the gym. she tunes her body up, playing her muscles like individual instruments until they sing.

[ 0000 ] she retires to her apartment. this is her dark dominion and she rules over her subjects with care and with fairness. tomorrow she will take out her DSR 50 for a spin, neglected as it has been. on a whim, she picks up the bible from her shelf. she’s in the mood to be amused.

[ 0100 ] she rests.

by: thymoss
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