Kyle was a very plain man – he had short, straight black hair and brown eyes. He was thin and of average height, and his face seemed to say he was somewhere between twenty-five and forty years old – a more precise measurement was impossible. If he had been seen stabbing a target, there would be no chance for anyone to identify him.
Kyle walked inside, stepping around the weapons scanner and ignoring the bouncer’s protests. When the bouncer caught a look at Kyle’s face and realized who Kyle was, he suddenly remembered having business elsewhere, and turned his attention back to dealing with the ’Sixties that kept trying to get past him. Everyone who worked at the Ground Zero either knew or knew of Kyle Elsen, and that the best thing to do was stay out of his way.
Kyle could feel the bass from the thumping beat of the music through the soles of his boots on the deck. He ignored it, continuing toward the bar.
Tables and chairs were spread across the floor, close to the walls. The center of the room was open, giving a view of the dance floor below. A guardrail prevented anyone, fighting, drunk, sober or otherwise, from falling. There were also a few tables near the rail, which Kyle knew were normally reserved for so-called ‘special customers’ such as him.
For Kyle, it had been a quiet night. He had set a contract, to be completed a few days hence. It would pay his bills for the next few weeks. Now it was time to enjoy a drink. It was one of Lotus's few times serving at the bar, and she was waiting for him when he sat down. His shot of scotch was at the bar...he simply held it up and looked at her. She rolled her eyes, grabbed a larger glass, transferred the scotch to that one, and added three fingers more. He nodded at her, and took the glass in his hand. He looked into its amber depths, and he almost smiled.
Kyle Elsen sat at the end of the bar, his right side against the counter, and his back against the wall. The bourbon was on the bar top, his right hand around the glass protectively, a book in his left. It was not an unusual sight for the regulars, though anyone who didn’t know Kyle from the bar would only look at him twice, perhaps even three times. No one really thought about the assassin as a reader, or about his hobbies, or even about Kyle as a human being. He was, after all, the scariest man in the city. He wasn’t a human being…he was a monster, everyone knew that. It was as out of place as if Dracula were seen watching a movie, or Frankenstein’s monster playing baseball.
“Kyle?”
The assassin looked up and blinked a few times, giving a blank little smile. “Yes, Mac?”
“We’ve got a few issues.”
“Hm?”
“There might be… You see, it’s possible that, well -- ”
At that moment, Lotus tapped Kyle on the shoulder. She shrugged at his look, and then she pointed to the bouncer with her thumb.
Kyle raised an eyebrow. His eyes followed her finger, all the way to the door, where Leo, the head bouncer, held a black-cloaked figure against the wall, restraining the religious fervor and enthusiasm of the Child of Thanatos. Elsen let out a breath of air, the sound coming out like a cross between a sigh and a growl.
Lotus merely shrugged.
Kyle nodded, putting down the glass. “Thank you. Pardon me, Mac.” A moment later he was moving toward the entrance. He could see the head bouncer and his staff at the door, checking identification and deciding who would be a guest of the Ground Zero for the evening. A small figure was being restrained against the wall.
Leo looked up as Kyle approached, swallowed nervously, and nodded. “Mister Elsen, sir. This kid showed up asking for you. I thought I should let you make the call on it…”
The shriek was male. The boy started babbling a moment later, and none of what he was saying made any sense. “Angel-Servant Elsen! I have found the Angel-Servant Elsen!”
A glare from Kyle had silenced him instantly, and he stood, shaking violently, wildly excited at Kyle's presence. The bouncer continued to keep a grip on the boy's shoulder, and his assistants monitored the entrance to the Ground Zero. Kyle took a deep breath, staring at the boy, and decided to get straight to the point and prevent a conversation out of the Looking Glass. Kyle set his face in a smile, and said, “Yes. Now. What is it?”
The Boy of Thanatos stuttered nervously, too excited to speak.
The bouncer slapped him on the head. “Talk faster.”
Kyle raised a hand, halting the bouncer. If he didn't stop Leo, he was going to give in to his own temptation and join in. “So, what was so important that you had to follow me here?”
A hard swallow and a nervous smile later, the boy finally caught his voice. “Angel-Servant, I have been trying to find you! I was told to find you and make certain you approved of what we are doing for the other Angel-Servant!”
Kyle blinked. What other angel-servant? “Um, while I have heard of your efforts, I'm not entirely certain what he has specifically assigned you to do. Please, enlighten me.”
The Child of Thanatos nodded violently. “Yes, Angel-Servant! We have been told to defend the borders of Chinatown!” The teenager's eyes shone with pride. “We have done our best! Has the other Servant not told you?”
Kyle nodded slowly. That's something… “He…has not gone into great detail.” Kyle did his best to force a smile and continued. “Is he making his own efforts to maintain the area?”
Another violent nod. “Yes, Angel-Servant, he is! We have seen him using a tool similar to the one you use! We do not understand why he chooses to bless them so, but he has been sending gang members on to Saint Jack with it! He is nowhere near, they have no way to thank him, and yet he still blesses them by sending them to Saint Jack faster than a blink of an eye, despite the horrors they commit! They die before they even hear the sound!”
Kyle blinked. There was only one gun that caused a sonic boom after use. A long-range sniper rifle… Another member of the Guild is alive? Kyle nodded, continuing to hold the forced smile on his face. “Yes. Um, yes, he does. He has unusual methods for an Angel-Servant, but we tolerate him anyway. You have done well by telling me this.” Kyle pushed the smile wider, trying to make sure the Child of Thanatos saw his angel. Dammit…his face hurt. “Do not tell him you have told me of his efforts. I will contact him myself.” He gestured to the bouncer, who let the Child of Thanatos loose, finally. The boy bowed to Kyle and stumbled away, gibbering his thanks and praising his beloved Saint Jack.
Kyle nodded his thanks to the bouncer and walked back into the bar. Another Assassin…
*
Kyle's face was scrunched up in confusion, though Mac read it as dissatisfaction. Mac started trying to put on a good game face. If he was lucky, the Child hadn’t told Kyle about the situation in Chinatown and Mac and his sisters would be able to make something extra passing along the information.
Kyle came back from his conversation with a pensive look. On Kyle, it looked like it was going to be the start of a very bad day for someone. Mac knew the look, and knew what it meant, but he still braced for impact. Mac did not want to be shot, stabbed, or blown up this evening.
Kyle sat down at the bar, and Lotus placed a drink in front of him.
Kyle frowned, looked at it, and shook his head. “No, thank you.” He pushed it to one side, and looked at Mac. “Mac…”
He's not drinking. Oh no no no…please don’t kill me or destroy the bar.
“I was just told about a new ‘angel-servant’ in Chinatown?” Kyle face had gone from confused to what the fu–? “Were you about to tell me about a possible assassin left alive in San Francisco?”
Mac’s weak smile wavered. “Yeah. Um, how’d you know?”
“The Child of Thanatos gibbering about another angel-servant was my first hint. When did you know?”
“We didn’t really know, you see. It was more of a guess, and--”
Kyle sighed, impatient. “What do you know about him?”
“Well, we don’t know his name, or the background—”
Kyle arched a brow, and that was enough for Mac to stop talking. “Mac,” Kyle said,
trying to be patient, “I asked what you know. You’re telling me what you don’t know. Stop.”
Mac nodded. “Yeah… it looks like one of your buddies is running around Chinatown killing anything that doesn’t belong there.” Mac shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Brokers, Burners, Scavengers…the whole kit-and-caboodle…if you don’t live there and you cause trouble, you’re the one in trouble. Whoever he is, he made a deal with the Tongs. It looks like if he stays in Chinatown, the Tongs protect him, and when he goes out he protects them. Sort of. He’s a Caucasian male, and that’s about the extent of it.”
Mac didn’t add the last bit – they had a name, though no face.
“We could get a video of the guy if we work at it,” Mac said. “It’ll take time, and energy, and it’ll probably cost us—”
Kyle held up a hand, and tried not to smile. Mac trying to play Kyle for more money was always entertaining, but not something he wanted to be bothered with right now. “Hold off on that, Mac. Just for the moment. ”
Kyle frowned, and absentmindedly started sliding the glass of bourbon from one hand to the other. Something is wrong… “Have you heard anything about contracts being taken in Chinatown?”
“Not a thing, oh Master Assassin.” Mac forced a grin. “I know you generally stay out of there, since you don’t exactly blend in…”
Another slide. “And the Tongs have no problems with it?”
Mac shook his head. “No sir, Master Assassin, sir.” He chuckled. Apparently, this was a good day. “Seriously, Kyle, they haven’t done a thing. He’s completely copacetic with the locals, and …” Mac paused, taking a breath, “…apparently the Children of Thanatos are…”
Kyle cut him off. “Guarding the borders of the area. So I was told.”
Mac nodded again. “I don’t know much else, but I’ll keep my ears open for you, and I’ll have my sisters take a look around.”
Kyle put a finger on the lip of the glass, and started spinning the glass on the counter like a record. “I think I'm going to check out this ‘angel-servant’ myself.”
Kyle didn't even take a sip of his drink for the next fifteen minutes as he considered how he could best go about achieving the notice of the person protecting Chinatown.
At long last, Kyle smiled. This time, it was natural. He slid the still full glass of bourbon down the counter to Mac, and said, “This is going to be interesting, Mac. It might even be fun.”
Then Mac heard the most terrifying thing he had heard in three years of a post-apocalyptic Hell in San Francisco. Kyle Elsen laughed.
*
Later that morning, Kyle followed his latest contract into Chinatown.
The target never noticed that someone had been on his tail. The idiot had all the situational awareness of an ant about to be ground out like a used cigarette; he never looked around, never even seemed to consider looking over his shoulder, not even once. It was as though he had thought himself perfectly safe in Chinatown. Which, technically, wasn’t far from wrong. The crime rate in Chinatown was down, lower than it had ever been, even before the Last Day. And Kyle had never killed someone in Chinatown.
Kyle felt the silenced pistol settle against the small of his back. He focused his eyes on the exact spot where he would place the bullet, right at the back of the head, in the medulla oblongata. Instant death. The target wouldn’t even know that he’d been hit.
Kyle closed in further, moving from ten feet to six. Then four. Then three. Then…
A silent cough of the pistol, and Kyle kept moving. That's step one.
The pistol hadn’t even bucked in his hands, the sound of the bullet launching quieted by the silencer. Kyle immediately palmed the gun, and slipped it to the small of his back.
He smiled grimly. Game… He heard someone screaming a moment after the body fell, and heard the crowd quietly slow and swirl around the body like vultures on a fresh kill. Kyle was calm and certain; the bait had been laid.
He silently watched the crowd gather to watch the body. Children and adults stood, their eyes wide and their voices silent, watching the blood seep across the concrete and asphalt of the sidewalk and street. Their reaction was not unexpected…but Kyle hung back and patiently waited for the so-called 'angel-servant'. Kyle would not be seen, and would never be noticed. Were he any more invisible, he would be a janitor or a mailman. Set…
*
“Mister Anderson! Help!”
Kevin rolled out of his bed and to his feet, gun drawn. He looked out the window to see one of his neighbors hanging upside down from a rope that Kevin had set as a booby trap.
Kevin sighed. “What the...what is it?”
“There's been a murder!”
He sighed, released the messenger, and then headed down to the scene of the murder.
And then he was worried. The body was of a Chinatown “foreigner,” followed into Chinatown and killed. Even worse: the man had been dropped in the middle of the street with only a single bullet to the back of the head, and no one had seen who had killed him
Oh goody, a professional killer's in town. Come out, Mr. Elsen, wherever you are...
Kevin stepped back from the body and turned to the crowd, making sure his back was to the nearest wall. He scanned them one at a time, looking at their eyes. Many of them were plain and simple folk who were just busy looking at a dead body. Dropping a body in Chinatown was rare, and bordered on offensive. The Tongs would have been unhappy with whoever was involved in this, if they could catch him.
Kevin Anderson looked around. The crowd was all staring blankly at the corpse...until Kevin saw someone looking right at him.
Gotcha. Kevin and the man who undoubtedly murdered the one at his feet held a glance, and they each knew exactly what the other was.
*
Kyle turned and ran.
Anderson, despite all sense, gave chase. His gun was already drawn and raised, and he gave off two experimental shots, barely missing the man ahead of him.
The shots missed by a shoulders-length, and Kyle kept running, sure that the man would follow. He ran, and didn't look back once. This man would follow him, and he would hunt him, and he wouldn't stop.
They charged down the streets of San Francisco, and Anderson almost ran him all the way out of Chinatown. The killer rounded a corner, and instead of chasing further, Anderson tacked left and climbed a drainpipe.
Kevin knew that the man would be running up a hill, and Kevin concluded that he could cut him off by taking the vertical first. He leapt from roof to roof, finally dropping from one roof onto the fire escape, and then from one level of the fire escape to the other. He drew a hand grenade, rounded the corner, gun raised....
And stared down the barrel of another gun, held by the killer.
Kyle skidded to a stop as the man whirled around the corner in front of him. How the…?
Kyle’s gun swung into his face, and the other man had his own gun up. The man shifted slightly, not flinching or blinking at the gun, and his stance made it clear he was completely ready to use the grenade he was holding, if necessary.
Kyle blinked. This man is no Assassin...none of us would…
Anderson smiled. “I've already had to use this trick once. Don't make me repeat myself, sir.”
Kyle took a breath and blinked, settling his eyes, and then took another breath, not letting his curiosity show. It wasn't a blink of surprise, or shock… it was a natural blink that people do to keep their eyes moist. “Who are you?”
The 'Guardian of Chinatown', as Mac had called him in the information package, frowned, seeming somewhat annoyed that Kyle did not know who he was. “Were you not paying attention, or wasn't my message the other day loud enough? Kevin Anderson, local pit bull. What are you? Bad guy, good guy?”
Kyle blinked a few times, bemused, his face scrunched up like he smelled something bad. This man seemed…unprofessional… “Who I am doesn't matter. Good, or bad, I am the one with the gun.”
“No fair, I was going to s
ay that.” He glanced at Kyle's custom weapon, appraising it. “Nice piece. Let me guess, you're the Assassin, Kyle Elsen, right?”
Kyle didn't blink. He's not one of my people, but he's a professional…a very odd professional... The killer inclined his head to acknowledge the point. “You're well informed.”
Anderson smiled. “I read the Cliff Notes.”
Kyle frowned, mentally. He's making jokes? “Indeed. Then you should know better than to try me.” A statement of fact.
Anderson shook his head slightly. “Bull. You came to my territory. The man you killed isn't a local, but you killed him here, on the Tongs’ doorstep, and you generally try not to piss them off. You wanted to see who the new kid in town is, I get that. So, I have to ask, are you going to make it a habit of messing with my part of town?”
Huh. Well…he's more intelligent than I thought. Kyle shrugged. “Not particularly.”
“Well, that's all right then.”
He took a breath, and Kyle shifted on the trigger, one finger moving toward the safety. Perhaps this will not be necessary…
Anderson asked, “Are you going to say that this town isn't big enough for the both of us?”
Kyle almost groaned at the bad cliché. “I didn't intend to. Make another bad movie reference like that, and I may change my mind.”
“Okay then. Deal.” Anderson finally relaxed, and Kyle shifted his hand slightly. Anderson's gun and grenade returned to his clothing. He smiled for a moment. “There a reason you’re still holding that on me?”
Kyle watched him a moment longer, not letting his curiosity show as the gun quietly disappeared. “You were lucky you had the grenade,” the Assassin told him.
Anderson grinned at him. "Yeah, I suppose so."
"Would you truly have dropped it?"
He shrugged. “Why not? It was only a smoke grenade.”
A bluff…? Kyle groaned. “I think need a drink.”
“You know the Ground Zero? I've wanted to try it for a while.”
Codename: Winterborn (The Last Survivors Book 1) Page 22