A few weeks ago I discovered this character. I say "discovered" because I had very little to do with making her, she kind of forced herself on me, she wanted a story. So I started a short story and now it's turning into a novella. The thing that really surprised me about this character when she first showed up was that she was an assassin, and she's not very nice in the begin of the story, but the more I write the better she seems to be getting. I hope to have her completely converted to the good side by the end of the book.
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 their 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 shouts 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 cage.
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.
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.