Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Hunting Peace


I've been working on a story this past week, and my brother said I should share some of it.  So here's the first chapter.  Before you read though, I must warn you the heroine of this story is an assassin.  Don't ask me where she came from, this character just appeared in my head and I couldn't get her out, she wanted to be written.  Please comment, I would love feed back on this one.
Morgan J





Chapter 1

Peace looked down at her small white hands and noticed absently to herself that they contrasted abruptly with the hard black revolver held in them.  She recognized the hard cold feeling in her chest that she always felt when she was on a job, it meant she was ready.  Lifting her dark red head the girl named Peace scanned the garden below her, where she could make out the figures of three guards patrolling a high concrete wall.  From her position on the roof of the neighboring building she had a good view of every inch of the ground behind the wall that was meant to keep people out, but when she got through with it, it was going to just keep the people in.

Exactly 75 seconds later Peace stood half-concealed inside the wall and behind a small ornamental tree.  One of the guards was moving around only a few feet away; he was going to be the first casualty Peace thought coldly.  As the other two men in the yard turned toward the house for an instant, the girl made her move.  When the other guards turned back around their friend was gone and the yard was empty.  Curious as to where their companion had gone so fast, but not worried about any danger since they felt safe behind the wall; they started walking down toward the small clump of dwarf trees where the body of the third guard was hidden.  As they got closer a lithe black form leaped from the shelter of a nearby shrub and took out the closest man with a flying kick to the face.  Almost as soon as she touched ground again she spun on her right foot and dealt a tremendous blow to the last man's head.  Dazed and staggering he fumbled clumsily for his gun, but he had not even got his hand around the but when the black figure with a burning red hair and white face drew a gun and fired.  He was dead before he hit the ground and the small sound of a shout muffled by a silencer was completely lost in the large garden.  The sound had barely disappeared when Peace was sprinting for the house like a lithe black cat she jumped over the porch railing landing soundlessly on the polished wood.  Minutes later she had entered the house and was working her way through the nearly empty rooms.  The only sound that could be heard was the lonely crackle of static on an old radio playing classical music somewhere upstairs.

Mr. MacGinty was the ring leader of a large drug organization operating mostly in London.  He could be said to be new at this game but he had worked his way up the ladder of success until he was in direct competition with some of the biggest drug lords in Europe.  This was the reason for the little red head's deadly visit to his home.  He had pushed the wrong man too hard and was not ready to handle the consequences.  This was the day he was going to learn the full extent of his mistakes.

Two days ago, Peace had been contacted by a German businessman with a commission.  He represented a group of powerful men who would remain unnamed, and who wanted her to take care of a little problem for them.  They wanted this Mr. MacGinty dead, and they had heard that she was the one to see about getting that done.  She had taken the job since work had been bad the last few months, even though these unnamed people were not recommended to her by anyone she knew, which was one of her usual requirements. It was an easy job, almost not worth the energy it took to accomplish it.  That must have been why she was irritated.  This job was degrading; any part time tough guy with a high powered rifle could have taken this MacGinty out from the roof of the office building across the street.  Her specialty was close up hands on work, and it would take much more than a concrete wall and three guards to even slow her down.

The stairs were heavily carpeted and the girl named Peace made no sound as she stepped lightly up there thick levels.  Peace thought it strange that the house was so quiet.  It was unusual that the house would be so empty at this time of day, and it worried the red head; this was the only thing she could not account for, the one thing she could not understand, and it was dangerous to have unanswered factors in her business.   MacGinty was supposed to be in sitting room at the top of the stairs, but as Peace reached the top she noticed that the sound of the radio was coming from down the hall. She hesitated an instant in the hall trying to understand the silence, but failing.  Suddenly the sitting room door opened and a painfully thin man stepped out of the noisy room.  Before he could even realize that she was standing there, Peace planted a powerful kick in his diaphragm that sent him staggering backwards gasping for breath.  The sitting room was crowded with some fifteen or twenty men in black suits, and Peace immediately understood that the room was sound proofed.  At the sudden reentry of their companion everyone looked up some grabbing for their guns, but for the moment stopped in mid motion ether with the surprise or indication.  In that instant of stillness the girl's quick green eyes located the big man sitting on the couch with a drink in his hand going by the name of MacGinty.  Her gun was out in less than a heartbeat and she took only a half second to aim before her finger tightened on the trigger.  But as the gun came out people started to react and as the gun bucked in her hand she saw a young man tackle her target throwing them both down out of the line of fire.  Guns were out and she leaped over the banisters as shots blazed over her head.  She had missed her target; she knew that without having to look back.  That young man had saved him this time, maybe he had even taken the bullet for him, she did not know that for sure, but then she did not really care.  As she hit the front door running she could hear sirens blaring and through the gate came three patrol cars.  It was a trap.  Somewhere down the line she had been set up.  Peace hugged the house heading for the back garden where she had seen the dogs that were released during the night, caged up next to the garage.  Their vicious barking could be heard even above the shots of the police.  The gate of their cage was padlocked but it took Peace only a passing shot to take care of that and as she leaped the concrete wall six Dobermans tore out after the officers that were just approaching their cages.  She had made a clean get away, but Peace was angry as she stepped into her black Mustang.  MacGinty was still alive and it aggravated her that she had missed her target.  Next time he would not be so lucky, and next time she was going to be more prepared.  Someone had set her up and she knew how much more dangerous that made her job, but she had taken it and she had to finish it.  Then she would look for the one responsible for setting her up. 

The next morning, a small redhead wearing a soft cream colored coat made her way up the steps of the court house.  She had learned that MacGinty was cooperating with the police and they had him down at the court house that morning taking his statement.  Peace knew exactly where to stand and what to say, and she was one of the few people in the hall when MacGinty was escorted out by two officers on his way into protective custody.  He never made it though.  As they came into sight, Peace lifted the gun she had been hiding under her coat and shot the big man in the neck, killing him instantly.  Before her victim could hit the ground her character changed and she became an innocent bystander shaken up by what she had just witnessed.  Confusion ensued and the court house was searched from top to bottom, but no sign of the mysterious assassin was found.  Peace was terribly shaken up and sat huddled on a bench in a neighboring court room where she waited to be questioned.  No one suspected the pretty little redhead.  She was so frightened and bewildered by what had happened.  A young officer tried to comfort her, but nothing he said seemed to help, she could not help trembling and her face was very pale.. They finally let her go after getting her name, address and phone number.  And pretty little " Mercy Walden" walked out of the court house without even a shadow of suspicion to dim her passing.

1 comment:

  1. Neat! It's fun to read a story where the 'villain' is the main character. :)

    ReplyDelete