*note: this story is based on an image from Madlax*
The young woman’s heart pounded; her breathing fast. Gotta keep cool. It’s nothing you haven’t handled before, Jessica. Her breathing slowed. It’s not like you’ve never been chased after an assassination before. Her dark blue and green silk Chinese dress shifted as she pressed her slight form against the tree. There was a slight breeze that flitted through her strawberry blonde hair. Her green eyes stared forward at the ledge five feet in front of her.
Her left hand held Perry, her trusty .45 caliber pistol. Her right hand slid down her leg to her holster. She stopped just shy. No Franco, not yet. Instead, her fingers moved to the pocket of her holster and pulled out her mirror. She moved it slowly to view her adversaries. Five soldiers were visible, one was way too close, but she was positive there were more.
Her chest heaved as she released a silent sigh. She climbed into the branches as that one soldier moved closer to check the very place where she had been standing. She twisted the silencer onto the weapon. The man had bent over to look at her shoe prints. She looked down at him and carefully aimed, slowly squeezing the trigger.
The bullet whispered as it left the chamber of the pistol. Only a slight groan and a splat were heard as the bullet met its target, and his face was turned to hamburger.
She turned, quickly but carefully taking aim. She quickly took out the other four men and three more she hadn’t seen in the mirror. They were not so quiet in going down, though their brains had made similar messes. She heard more men very close and reloaded.
She seemed to fall forever as she dropped from the branches and into the tirade of gunfire. She continued to shoot, hitting each individual soldier while bullets sprayed past her. These guys really don’t know how to hit a target.
Eight more men dead and more were coming. She pulled out a new magazine for her .45 loading it and taking out her trusted 9mm. “Now its time for you to play, baby.” She leaned against a rock, sitting with her guns behind her back. She looked elegant, almost high class whore. Who would think that she was the assassin who had taken out all these men and two high ranking military officials?
The next group of men came into the clearing. They looked at the bodies, and then her in bewilderment. The apparent commander shouted. “Put your hands where we can see them!”
She slowly moved her hands to view, revealing Perry and Franco, immediately firing, hitting the commander. The spray of bullets restarted. She took each man out: one shot, one kill, while their bullets seemed to miss her altogether.
She continued to fire until the only sound that could be heard was that of her pistol. She tucked Franco back into the holster, keeping Perry in her hand.
Slowly she stepped over each body, and tallying. Thirty-six men were dispatched to hunt her down when she left the scene. She listened, no sign of reinforcements. She counted. Thirty-five men lay dead in the clearing. She stepped to where she had been hiding: One man, and something else.
Behind that tree was a young woman. Her fair skin and strawberry blonde hair were covered in blood. Her slight form was filled with bullet holes, her green eyes half closed. Jessica looked down at herself. Maybe they weren’t as bad shots as I thought they were.
The young woman’s heart pounded; her breathing fast. Gotta keep cool. It’s nothing you haven’t handled before, Jessica. Her breathing slowed. It’s not like you’ve never been chased after an assassination before. Her dark blue and green silk Chinese dress shifted as she pressed her slight form against the tree. There was a slight breeze that flitted through her strawberry blonde hair. Her green eyes stared forward at the ledge five feet in front of her.
Her left hand held Perry, her trusty .45 caliber pistol. Her right hand slid down her leg to her holster. She stopped just shy. No Franco, not yet. Instead, her fingers moved to the pocket of her holster and pulled out her mirror. She moved it slowly to view her adversaries. Five soldiers were visible, one was way too close, but she was positive there were more.
Her chest heaved as she released a silent sigh. She climbed into the branches as that one soldier moved closer to check the very place where she had been standing. She twisted the silencer onto the weapon. The man had bent over to look at her shoe prints. She looked down at him and carefully aimed, slowly squeezing the trigger.
The bullet whispered as it left the chamber of the pistol. Only a slight groan and a splat were heard as the bullet met its target, and his face was turned to hamburger.
She turned, quickly but carefully taking aim. She quickly took out the other four men and three more she hadn’t seen in the mirror. They were not so quiet in going down, though their brains had made similar messes. She heard more men very close and reloaded.
She seemed to fall forever as she dropped from the branches and into the tirade of gunfire. She continued to shoot, hitting each individual soldier while bullets sprayed past her. These guys really don’t know how to hit a target.
Eight more men dead and more were coming. She pulled out a new magazine for her .45 loading it and taking out her trusted 9mm. “Now its time for you to play, baby.” She leaned against a rock, sitting with her guns behind her back. She looked elegant, almost high class whore. Who would think that she was the assassin who had taken out all these men and two high ranking military officials?
The next group of men came into the clearing. They looked at the bodies, and then her in bewilderment. The apparent commander shouted. “Put your hands where we can see them!”
She slowly moved her hands to view, revealing Perry and Franco, immediately firing, hitting the commander. The spray of bullets restarted. She took each man out: one shot, one kill, while their bullets seemed to miss her altogether.
She continued to fire until the only sound that could be heard was that of her pistol. She tucked Franco back into the holster, keeping Perry in her hand.
Slowly she stepped over each body, and tallying. Thirty-six men were dispatched to hunt her down when she left the scene. She listened, no sign of reinforcements. She counted. Thirty-five men lay dead in the clearing. She stepped to where she had been hiding: One man, and something else.
Behind that tree was a young woman. Her fair skin and strawberry blonde hair were covered in blood. Her slight form was filled with bullet holes, her green eyes half closed. Jessica looked down at herself. Maybe they weren’t as bad shots as I thought they were.
