(2013) Shooter

by Jack Parker

  "How long have I been asleep?" I wondered aloud.

  "Two hours or so. I haven't really been watching the clock."

  He was shaking, slightly, and damn him, I think he was laughing at me. 'Course, I might have just been thinking paranoid thoughts again.

  "Hmm… fun." I rolled my eyes.

  "Hey, since you're awake, I have an idea."

  "What's that?" I sat up and stretched as far as the vehicle's cab would let me.

  "Let's play a game."

  "What kind of game?"

  Daisuke grinned. "One of names a letter, and the other one comes up with a band that starts with that letter. You go first."

  "Uh… T." I named a random character.

  "Trapt. A" Daisuke fired off.

  "Anberlin. A"

  "Same letter? Okay… Atreyu. U."

  "Underoath. S."

  "Saosin. P."

  "Pantera. B."

  "Breaking Benjamin. D."

  "Dropkick Murphy's. C."

  "Coldplay. R."

  "Rise Against. R again."

  "Rage Against The Machine… T."

  "Tokio Hotel. L."

  "Lacuna Coil. D."

  "Disturbed. L again."

  "Lamb of God. D again."

  "Uh… Drop Dead Gorgeous. F."

  "Flyleaf. M"

  "Metro Station. R."

  "The Rolling Stones. B"

  "The Beatles. C."

  "Ooh, retro. Cobra Starship. E."

  "Eh… E?"

  "Can't think of one?"

  "Nope." I shrugged.

  "Heh. You lose." Daisuke taunted.

  "Leave me alone. I'm sleepy." I pouted.

  "I'm just surprised. I always lose that game. Finally found someone I can beat."

  "Who do you usually play that with?" I asked, with mild curiosity.

  "Julia. Which is a bad idea, because she's like, the music guru."

  "This is true. Well, congrats. You found a less worthy opponent to own." I laughed.

  "Thank you. I'm proud of myself." He glanced back at the road and swerved to avoid some idiot who had hopped a lane in front of us, his smile never leaving his face. Meanwhile, I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath in order to avoid a breakdown. "Whoa… you alright, Grace?"

  "I'm fine." I breathed through my teeth. "No problem here."

  "You went all pale. What's wrong?"

  "Swerving makes me nervous."

  "Oh… I'll remember that, then."

  "I'm good." I slowly relaxed my grip on the seat's arm. "Damn. Thought I was over that."

  "Over what?" Daisuke nudged my knee.

  "Car accident when I was younger. Had me scared to get in a car for a long time."

  "That bad?"

  "Totaled the car and about took my leg off." I mumbled, and pulled the leg of my jeans up to reveal a thick, ropy scar that went halfway around my left calf.

  "Oh, so that's what that's from." Daisuke nodded. "But wait… if you have that problem, then why are you such a speed demon?"

  "I really don't know. I guess it might be because I wasn't driving at the time… so when I am driving… it's not there."

  "I'll remember that, then. Sorry, Grace."

  "It's fine, not your fault." I shrugged and smiled at him.

  Daisuke smiled back and then smacked his forehead, having apparent forgotten something.

  "I've gone and neglected to wish you a happy birthday." He smiled a little wider. "And I got you something."

  "Really?" I looked over. "That was thoughtful."

  "You haven't really seen it, yet." Daisuke chuckled and reached into a pocket, extracting a small, pristinely wrapped package and handed it to me.

  I have to say, the metallic green packaging was a little too pretty to tear apart… but I did anyway.

  "I thought the color was nice. Matches your eyes." I had to smile a little wider at that.

  With the paper aside, I now held a small black box, about as long as my hand. I popped it open and found an intricately wrought silver crucifix on a fine chain. A tiny ruby was set into the center of the cross, where the bars met. I wound up staring at it for a few moments, tracing a thread of metal with a fingertip. "It's beautiful."

  "It was my mother's."

  I looked up in surprise. "And you're giving it to me?"

  Because he was an orphan, like me. Anything from his parents would be precious.

  "It's special to me." He glanced off, and stared out onto the road. Was he… blushing? "So are you."

  I was more or less at a complete loss for words, at this point, so I focused on the clasp, and got the necklace on without too much difficulty. I situated it right next to the one Constance had given me.

  I happened to be mildly amused that everyone seemed to be giving me religious symbols, of all things.

  I finally managed to speak, and it sounded lame. "Thank you. I love it."

  Though as lame as my reply was, Daisuke seemed really pleased. In fact, he sat there and grinned to himself, and we passed the rest of the car ride in companionable silence.

  I was about to nod off again when we pulled up in front of a really dingy looking bar and parked.

  I wasn't entirely sure when we'd crossed the city line into Johnson, but here we were, apparently.

  "Let's get this over with, I grumbled, not thrilled, and stepped lightly from the car.

  "Won't be that bad."

  "Is this actually the place?" I asked skeptically. It looked really ghetto.

  "That's what Kendall said."

  "Hm." We sidled up to the front door of the bar and entered, a tiny bell tethered to the doorframe announcing our arrival.

  It took me a moment to realize that there was indeed anyone here, until I caught a small curl of smoke rising over a back booth.

  We strode slowly to the back, meandering a bit, until I heard the almost silent click of a weapon chamber. I halted, and Daisuke hovered somewhere to my left.

  "I'm here to see Sinclaire." I announced with much more confidence in my voice than I was feeling at the time.

  A head popped up over the top of the old booth seat. Sandy-blonde hair, plain female features. Someone who could easily blend in to a crowd.

  "If it isn't little Graecia. What happened to your face?" She asked, somehow managing to look slightly concerned.

  I bit back as much fury as I could, even as I felt the phantom gun barrel on the nape of my neck again. "That's why I'm here."

  "Ah." She dropped it, and stood up from the booth. Now that I could see her properly, I noticed that she was dressed much the same as myself, though her holster rig didn't have space for any knives like mine did. "And even roughed up, you still look better than last time I saw you. 'Least you're not pissing yourself this time."

  "I suppose that's a good thing." I snapped coldly.

  She leered at me. "Aw, don't tell me you're holding a grudge?"

  "A small one, perhaps."

  She shrugged. "Well, I can't say that I really even blame you."

  "I should hope not." I tried to keep my teeth from gritting together as I spoke. I was really angry all of the sudden, and I didn't quite know why.

  "Well, Sinclaire's up this way. Follow me, I guess." She gestured toward us and sauntered off toward a dark staircase tucked into a corner.

  I hesitated before doing so, as I really didn't want to follow Lind anywhere. But I had no choice in this matter, now did I?

  Lind kept talking as we mounted the creaky stairs. "Seems you turned out just fine, didn't you? I hear about it a lot. Mostly from Sinclaire. She talks a bunch about how she's wanted you to work for her for the longest time."

  "Hm." I grunted, not willing to give a proper reply.

  "Yep. I think 'reliable' was the word she used."

  We reached the top, and Lind opened the door softly, and I was immediately met with a smile and cold eyes.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Pryor, Mister Kasuka. What can I do for you today?"

  Sinclai
re looked much the same as she had before, all polish and sophistication. Platinum blonde hair and manicured nails, topped off with the same frigid, formal tome that Kendall always used. I was surprised by the fact that she was wearing just jeans and a sweater, with no rig. That was odd... but come to think of it, she hadn't been wearing one last time I saw her.

  "Hello. I just have a few questions." I muttered, inclining my head in a tiny gesture of respect. If she had anything to do with the plot to kill me, it wouldn't hurt to be nice.

  "Of course. Here, sit down, please." Sinclaire tossed her silver-blonde bob out of her face. It was shorter now.

  I sat down softly in the uncomfortable-looking folding chair she indicated in front of a sparsely covered desk. Wow, this was kind of familiar.

  Daisuke moved over and stood behind me.

  "What seems to be the problem?" She asked pleasantly, crossing a leg over the other. "Although I presume it has something to do with those wounds?"

  I couldn't help but feel a small rasp of irritation. My face wasn't that fucked up, seriously. I buried the offending thought. "I understand that Reno Carson was one of your people?"

  All that earned me for a few minutes was a raised eyebrow and a look of speculation. I had to fight in order not to squirm in my seat. But score one for me; I managed to meet those gray eyes without flinching.

  She finally spoke, sparing me the effort of keeping up eye contact any longer. "Yes. He was."

  "Well, as I assume you said 'was', you know that he's no longer with us."

  "Of course I'm aware." Sinclaire scoffed at me, as though I was the dunce of the class. "As he never called in when he was scheduled to, I assume that something had happened to him."

  I just nodded and never replied, prompting her to continue. She obliged.

  "Now, I would appreciate it if you would kindly enlighten me on how you knew about it."

  I smiled a little bit. If this was an act, it was a fairly convincing one.

  "I happened to be the one who caused his passing."

  Sinclaire sighed. "He was my best. Please tell me that you had a good reason to kill him."

  "Self preservation."

  "Why would he have been trying to kill you?" Sinclaire sounded almost exasperated. Point two.

  "I don't know. You tell me."

  I layered my tone with meaning. She'd catch it.

  And point three for me, her eyes narrowed and she looked pissed off. Sweet.

  "Why in the hell would I send one of my people to kill a colleague?"

  I shrugged, probably a tad more belligerently than was absolutely necessary. "How would I know that?"

  "Are you screwing with me?" Whoa. There went the formal tone. I think the shit's hit the fan, now.

  "No. I wish I was, but I'm not. How do you think I got these?" I pointed at my face in general. Pick a bruise, any bruise.

  Sinclaire took a deep breath and blew it out through her nose. "I'll give you that one. And… I see how that implicates me in the whole… debacle."

  I relaxed, not having realized that I'd been tense to begin with. "I don't mean to accuse anyone, but you see the position that puts both of us in."

  "I do."

  "So, if you had any involvement at all, would you tell me about it?"

  "No. If I were involved, Lind would have killed you on sight, rather than bringing you up here."

  This was true; I had to admit. She continued.

  "It seems as though Reno had another employer." Sinclaire sat back in her chair and gazed at the wall to my left as though it held the secrets of life itself. "And he was playing me this entire time. You see, Graecia, the last assignment I sent him on was to eliminate a lawyer… three states over. He was to complete that last night. It seems that instead, he was targeting you."

  "I was at my sister's house. He broke in and very nearly had me."

  Those gray eyes flicked back over to rest on my face for a moment. "I see that, and if it helps any, I am personally thankful that he failed. It was an unprovoked attack on one of his peers… unless he was hired to kill you, specifically…?"

  "That seems to be what the bread crumbs are leading back to, doesn't it?"

  "Indeed. But…"

  "Who hires a hitman to take out a hitman?" I added. Such irony.

  "Precisely."

  CHAPTER 6

  "Well, shit. We're out of leads again." I grumbled, as we tramped toward the front welcome desk of the Holiday Inn that we planned to take up residence in for the night.

  "Seems like it. So, where to now?" Daisuke asked, carrying the one bag that we had between the two of us. Two sets of clothes each, and all the essential toiletries. Hell, no sense going without when you really don't have to, is there?

  "To sleep. That's all I need to even say."

  "Good. Oh, by the way, we're married."

  "Huh?" I asked with sudden alarm.

  "Our aliases. I got an I.D. to match yours." Daisuke held out a (very good imitation) identification card, with his photo and the name; 'Kenneth Keyes', to go with my 'Veronica Keyes'.

  "Very nice, Kenny." I laughed. "That is officially your new nickname."

  "Reminds me of South Park." Daisuke grimaced. Then he continued in a falsetto tone that perfectly matched Cartman, but was still frightening all on it's own. "Ohmigawd, the truck killed Kenny!"

  "Holy shit. You're a little too good at that…"

  Daisuke shrugged. "Hey, don't knock South Park."

  I rolled my eyes, and didn't continue, as we'd reached the front desk.

  A cheery looking receptionist grinned at us. "Can I help you in any way?"

  "Yes, we'd like to stay for one night." I answered quickly.

  "Two rooms?"

  "No, just one, thank you." Daisuke piped up, smiling.

  I shrugged. Hell, we practically lived together anyway, it didn't matter much to me.

  "Alright. I.D, please."

  We both handed over our licenses, and the receptionist looked them over for a moment before I had the thought to hand over a credit card to pay and streamline this process. "Thank you." The lady muttered, and started punching in numbers and things to the laptop on the desk. Then she took two keycards and swiped them through a magnet first, and then through the other machine that programmed them with our information, and handed them and my credit card back to me.

  "Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Keyes."

  We smiled and walked off toward the room number indicated on the keycard. I, meanwhile, was having Mr. and Mrs. Smith flashbacks. Go figure.

  "You know, she looked a tad suspicious of something." I said aloud.

  "Well, you do look like a domestic abuse victim."

  "Hey." I punched his arm, grumbling. "I'll show you domestic abuse."

  "All I'm saying is, it looks like I was beating you or something. I mean, think about it; big Asian guy, little white lady, married, wife's roughed up." Daisuke shrugged, not appearing to have felt the punch on the arm much. "Think about how that looks."

  "Why do you have to bring race into it?" I snorted.

  "Grace." Daisuke raised an eyebrow.

  "Yeah, I get the point. And yeah, that looks bad." I looked off into space. "As long as she doesn't call the Women's Hotline, I don't really care how it looks, though."

  "Yeah, that would take some explaining. Plus, the one we're looking for might just happen to be in the Law."

  "That would suck, because only a dirty cop would send a hitman in, and I hate dealing with dirty cops." We reached the door and went in, finding a mid-level hotel room with one bed and a couch. "They never play by the rules."

  "Well, I think that kind of comes along with the whole 'Dirty Cop' gig."

  "Don't be a smartass." I laughed.

  We reached the hotel room, a plain, midline, but fairly comfortable space. It would do.

  "You know, I think I'll be a smartass as much as I want to." Daisuke stuck out his tongue, and I gave a warning look before flopping down on the bed.

&
nbsp; "Holy hell, a soft mattress. Sweet."

  "You sleep there, and I'll take the couch." Daisuke tossed the bag onto the floor beside the single bathroom's door.

  "Oh, no. I'll sleep on the couch, Dai." I objected halfheartedly.

  He smiled at me. "You need that nice bed more than I do."

  "Aw, come on."

  "Don't argue with me, Grace." He laughed, and I smiled and fell silent.

  "Fine." I rolled my eyes. But secretly I was thankful for the consideration.

  Plus, I think I passed out again. What the hell?

  But when I woke up, it was to find Daisuke sitting on the edge of the little couch with a book in one hand and a glass in the other.

  "Good evening." Daisuke chuckled.

  "Did I pass out on you again?"

  "Yes, you did. But that's okay." He smiled at me.

  "Well, what time is it this time?" I cast around for a clock and didn't find one.

  "It is now ten o clock in the evening, and just about the perfect time to get to work." Daisuke said conversationally, as though what we did was the most normal thing in the world.

  "Which contacts are we hitting first?" I sat up, yawned, and stretched out, attempting (and failing) to wake up any more.

  "Let's just start off at the top of the list, shall we?" Daisuke saved his page and set the book aside. "No need to complicate anything."

  I checked off the mental list in my head (thank you, photographic memory), that Sinclaire had given me. Of all the people who might know what's going on.

  "Ooh, that means we're going to the slums, doesn't it?" I had the first name up. A Mr. Rodney Cooper. Sinclaire had already given me the place to find him, as well.

  "Yes. Pack accordingly. That's all I've got to say."

  "You mean 'bring extra guns'." I laughed a bit at that. I had a feeling that I wouldn't need a gun. I had Daisuke, after all.

  Anything big and scary didn't really frighten me that much as we strolled down a dilapidated sidewalk, almost nonchalantly. Like we were just going for a walk.

  We didn't talk much, as we moved toward our destination. A dingy side alley tucked off to the side of a small road in the ass end of town.

  We wound up at the place pretty quickly, having walked, and been able to take some of the shortcuts hidden about. The problem was, there wasn't anybody or anything here.

  "Where the hell are we supposed to be…?" I cast about for some place that people might be hiding in. One door came to mind. It was off in a corner of the alley, half-shrouded in darkness. "There, I suppose..?"