Hitman Ch. 02

Part 2 is here bitches. Enjoy <3

Dos

"One venti dark roast double shot vanilla latte with almond milk, whipped cream, and caramel drizzle!"

Luke doesn't raise his eyes from his phone as the barista hands him his drink, tucking the receipt and change into a random pocket of his sweatshirt.

He was close to finding her.

Luke had to admit that he was a little more than surprised when he found out that Mr. Colmenarez's subject was a girl. Nora Wilford, a five-foot-two-inch tall, twenty-five year old woman that had fallen off the face of the Earth before her eighth birthday. Her parents were average, an attorney secretary and mediocre entrepreneur that currently lived in the suburbs of some small, unimportant town in Indiana. She had been reported missing while visiting family with her parents in Diboll, Texas, and no leads had been found since her disappearance. She had vanished without a trace, at least for a little while.

About three years ago, her name resurfaced close to her parent's home in Indiana. She had used an anagram of her name in a motel and at a car rental place. Days later, the rental car was found totaled and in flames in the motel parking lot. No remains were found, but the amount of ash within the vehicle had labeled the findings as inconclusive.

Inconclusive his ass.

It had been hard, but Luke had managed to trace the form of payment that she had used to purchase the rental and motel, which she continued using on a wild cross country trip that was surely meant to confuse anyone that happened to be following her. But even so, he couldn't find where the brat was coming up with the money, as the card she was using provided no name holder or provider. It didn't trace back to a bank, or even to a private account. She must have been pulling money out of various untraceable, anonymous accounts and placing them on the card. It was the strangest, most interesting thing that Luke had uncovered in years. Even the transactions seemed to not make any sense. Random amounts spent on items that were listed as 'unknown'. It would have taken some serious skill to put a lock on the information the card processed with each transaction. Still, Luke was able to follow her money trail from Indiana all the way to the West Coast, going through to the Texas-Mexico border, and then all the way back to the East Coast. She seemed to never stay in a place for more than a few days, or have anyone with her to slow her down.

Luke followed her trail like a hound.

Hours ago, Luke had gotten a signal from her card that she had paid for an apartment above a hideous hipster coffee shop in Philadelphia under the name of Thelma Louis. Really original stuff, he had to admit. He had suspected that she would only be in the area for a few days at most, as her habits had indicated, which is how he found himself in The Daily Grind Coffee House, ordering an outrageously priced beverage. It was time to get the show on the road.

He made a show of sipping at his coffee leisurely, his eyes taking turns between scouting the faces of the customers walking in and out of the shop and reviewing the security footage of the apartment hallways that sat above him on his phone. He hadn't been given a photo of Ms. Wilford, as there were none of her besides those of her as a child. He only knew that she was a petite blond with hazel eyes, and a small birthmark shaped like a lima bean below her left ear on her neck. Between the description provided for him and using her missing child's photos, Luke had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Besides, he had gone on far less before.

He planned to attack tomorrow night, just as she was getting comfortable in her newly arranged digs. Now, all he had to do was wait for his prey to make her appearance, and then it would all be over in a few hours. Get the girl, drive her to the matador, and then retrieve the rest of his earnings. He almost drooled at the thought of adding more Ben's to his collection. Those dirty, sexy Ben's.

He could barely wait.

-

Luke couldn't believe just how easy this job was turning out to be! The security footage of her building that he had hacked into had caught a small looking blond woman in a trench coat and sunglasses entering and leaving the apartment within only a few hours of his stakeout. He had followed her on her errand to the local Whole Foods Market, and then later to a hardware store and pet store. She was surprisingly quick on her feet, and Luke had to make sure that he was on his toes while tailing her. He had zoned out just before she had exited General Hardware, and it had taken him nearly thirty minutes to find her again.

It had been equally both insulting and invigorating.

When she had finally returned to her apartment, Luke took the time to scout the entire building. Though it sat on top of the coffee shop, the apartment complex had two other exits. It was made up of four floors of five apartments each, not including the top floor's grand apartment suites. There were only two of those, and Ms. Wilford showed her taste for luxury by renting one of them. The other suite was owned by an elderly man who owned a small yippy dog who cried at the door every couple of hours to express his need to relieve himself. Luke would have to be careful of the rat. The roof top was visible by several of the surrounding buildings, and showed a small outside lounging area that had little maintenance and far less purpose for use. He would make sure to avoid it.

As he suited up, Luke couldn't help but have an internal debate on what he should bring to the fight. Obviously, if an international criminal thought of her as a threat, then he really should be packing anything and everything that would make her detainment as easy and unproblematic as possible. But he couldn't help but analyze the woman he had been following for the past couple of hours. She seemed utterly normal, and extremely disinteresting. The most dangerous thing that she had done so far was buy a small bundle of mangos, despite the fact that they were definitely not in season.

Going for something in the middle, Luke made sure to strap several variations of knives to his body, as well as place an extra gun in the waistband of his pants. Making sure he had his array of usual tools placed securely in his belt, he decided that it was time to dance.

He hoped that his dance partner would be ready for him.

-

It is around two in the morning when Luke finally enters the building. Mr. Old Guy had just gotten back with his rat-dog from a late night walk, and had settled down peacefully inside of his apartment. After his lights had all been shut off, the only sounds coming from the suite were muffled television voices as well as the rough snoring from the old guy. All of the exits were then blocked off with metal cords and padlocks from the inside, and the roof top door handle had been broken enough by Luke's boot to be unavailable for use, not that anyone would probably notice. He had already hacked into the security footage earlier, so it had been easy to shut down the entire system before entering the building.

It was time.

Luke's footsteps are soundless as he climbs the staircase to the top floor of the building. His skin vibrates with energy, his eyes and ears on high alert as he steps into the hallway. The air is still, and there's not a single sound, except for the sounds of that damn snoring while reruns of Seinfeld play in the background coming from Mr. Old Guy's apartment.

The old man would sleep right through his retrieval.

Standing in the dark hallway, Luke faces the white door separating him from his target. With only the smallest of sounds barely able to be heard by even the sharpest of ears, Luke uses his picks to disassemble the main lock to the suite door. The deadbolt was always trickier, taking Luke slightly longer than his usual couple of seconds to pick open. The lubricant he applied the hinges would prevent any squeaking when it opened. All he had to do now was turn the handle and open the door.

With sure and steady hands, the door gives way to an impressively large room blanketed in darkness. His eyes scan the room as he steps soundlessly inside, shutting the door with only the sound of a whoosh of air disrupting the silence. He entered the main living room, looking at the odd knick knacks on the shelves in decoration, and the paintings that were definitely homemade hanging from the wall. Luke's gut begins to hollow as he inspects a shelf of books, a layering of dust on most of them except for a few of the cookbooks and an extremely used looking copy of How to Tell if Your Cat is Planning to Kill You.

For an apartment that was just rented, it looked to be extremely well lived in.

The surprise has Luke on high alert, his mind whirling like a tornado with reasons behind this. Had she been here the entire time? Had the cross country road trip all been a hoax, a ploy to keep her hidden and safe? Now was no time to sit and ponder. He had done his research. This had to be his girl. He could ponder on this new piece of information after his mission was completed. The weight of the silenced gun in his palm soothes him slightly, allowing him to proceed forward towards the hallway to the bedrooms with confidence. He eyes the main bedroom steadily, looking for even a shadow of movement through the sliver that remains open. Though his gaze is undeterred, a small chirp behind him has him faltering.

Before he can turn around, a small ball of fluff goes darting past him towards the main bedroom, a bell ringing from somewhere on its body as it gallops away into the darkness. Luke's heart jumps at the intrusion, knowing that he will have to act soon or risk getting caught now. His pace turns nearly brisk as he silently creeps further down the hallway. His focus is so intent on listening for any signs that his target might be rousing from sleep, that he barely notices the pressure of wire against his shins until it is too late.

Snap!

Luke freezes at the noise, his brain registering the trip wire after it is already too late.

Whoosh!

A grunt leaves Luke's gaping mouth as he feels a pinch in his neck, the prick barely inflicting enough pain for it to even be registered by his brain, which happened to be slowing down by the second. His eyes begin swimming as he brings his arm, which was rapidly growing heavier, up to grasp the dart implanted at the nape of his neck. The needle point is removed from his skin easily despite the growing clumsiness of his limbs. The syringe hits the floor with a clank, followed by the loud thump of his pistol meeting hardwood floor as his arms give out, his hands unclenching on their own accord. Spots dance in his vision as his legs begin to wobble, telling him that he doesn't have much consciousness left. Rage fills his body, but the fiery heat of his anger does nothing to counteract his rapidly failing body parts. His knees hit the ground first, a groan signaling his decent as the rest of his body follows. His eyes slide closed as the numbness takes him, quieting his brain into silence after one last hate-filled thought.

What a fucking bitch.