Page 14 of Shifted

The air around me was cold, and I couldn't lie, I was freezing my ass off. Sometimes, my outfit wasn't ethical, and I was reminded of that in the colder seasons. Luckily, a mask made it tolerable most days, but the opening on my lip froze them. My clothing insulated my skin, trapping out most of the bitter cold when needed. But tonight, it was more biting than usual.

The room I'm observing is empty, and so are my thoughts. Sometimes, when I'm on these missions, I lose patience. I plug in my earbud to my left canal and then to my right; the lyrics of Fleetwood Mac fill the emptiness of the distance sirens and car horns.

As I keep watch, I see that the light turns on in one of the rooms as two guys in suits appear. In the first man's left hand is a silver suitcase. The man beside him is familiar. Then, I remember him precisely for the monster he is. He tortures his wife, Ivey, each night he gets home. I grew up knowing her; she doesn't dare to leave him. He is a monster in broad daylight, and here, he was adding to his miserable character.

Beside him is my target, Damian Holmes. He killed his wife and got away with it. I watched it happen in my courtroom, but I knew there was more before I dug deeper. He runs a drug ring with strings of crimes and debt attached. That debt, besides gambling, was no other than death, and it was his time to pay.

He takes his seat, and I focus the sniper on him, who shuffles slightly in the chair.

I grab the gun from my pocket swiftly and turn behind me to see him again. "Why the fuck are you here?” He holds his gun pointed at me, taking the advantage of standing above me.

"I have a more serious question: Is that an iPod Shuffle? What is it? 2008?" Staring down at the silver square, I look back up at him, "How could you even hear me?" I remove the buds and chuck them to the side as I keep my aim.

"Sixth sense? This is my job and my kill. He's harmed so many women, including people I love," As my gun clicks, he sighs, shifting his gun from me to my target.

"Don't. Do. It." I warned and stood in front of the gun before he could pull the hot rim pressed against my stomach. I was being bolder than before, but I wouldn’t let fear ruin my mission. This one was just personal.

"I'll pull it. You know you're a golden kill. Angel, you have people searching wide and far for you.” His words were meant to scare or intimidate me, but instead, they gave me a thrill. I’ve always wanted to be the prey, but I knew I was secretly the predator in that game.

"And aren’t there people searching for you? I never did catch your name?" He lowered the gun towards my foot; it would be a shame to lose part of it. But it would be even more disappointing not to know the masked man's name.

"Amartolós.” He stared directly into my eyes as I looked at him, a sea of darkness with the reflection of me shining through them.

"You're a sinner?" I question the meaning.

"What's on the shuffle?" he pivots, staring back down at it. I look back to my target as he remains still at the table negotiating with Mark, a partner in the ring.

"I have a job to do," I felt his body behind me as he looked right over my head.

“Yes, you do, and it’s to tell me what's on the shuffle?" I sighed, annoyed at his antics.

"You think it's something mysterious?" I turned him, dagger in hand. Before I could get to his shoulder, he gripped my arm, forcing me to drop the weapon and swing me over the edge of the roof. I caught myself before falling a ten-story plummet to my death. I pulled myself back up, staring at him, now more enraged than before.

"I thought we were friends?" he pouted. “So you really aren't going to tell me what's on the shuffle, Angel?" Now I knew who I was dealing with—a real psycho. He leaned against the back door, waiting for an answer as I waited for him to leave.

"You almost got yourself killed last time; you’re a rookie. I can't have you slacking around and getting me killed."

"What's on the shuffle?" He repeated, knowing it was driving me crazy. At this point, I wanted to slit his throat and have it be over. But curiosity prevented me from making any rash decisions.

"Fine. It's Fleetwood Mac, you happy!" I turned my head back to see a now vacant room. Only the dark wallpaper and empty leather chairs remained. But then I caught shadows of movement in the bedroom.

Fuck.

"I expected Freddie Dredd?" I tune him out as I plug back in the headphones and jack up the volume on the shuffle. As I focus in, I notice something as they come back out.

That something is our eye contact. Without a second thought, I pull the trigger on Damian, watching him fall. In turn, I receive a swarm of hidden men with guns drawn and firing.

"Run!" I dive towards the open door as the gunshots begin, and I'm left on top of Amartolós. We push open the door from the bottom, rushing down the stairwell, which comes to a halt. “Fuck," we were trapped as the lower levels were blocked off.

"The elevator," he shouts, quickly pushing open the exit door. The biggest fire hazard in the city was in this building. "Go," he urges me forward as the gunfire continues on the upper levels. His hand guides my back as we reach the elevator. I press the ground floor button frantically.

"They will be at the bottom waiting," I warn.

"I know, I'm not a rookie." His tone has turned cold as he leans back. You caught me at a moment.” I almost want to laugh at this man's arrogance. He wasn’t having a moment. I know when someone is distressed or not in one's head to see that he wasn’t having a moment.

"Sorry to bruise your ego," I whisper, teasing him. As we move, my back meets the wall, and he closes me in. The coldness of the mirroring walls chills my spine, but my heart races as his body closes me in.

"My ego isn't bruised, Angel; remember, in the end... you're my main target?" Sighing once again, I stood impatient and breathless by his empty threats. If he were to do something, he would’ve already done it.

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