Suddenly, the man was thrown against the alley wall, the brutal blow causing him to collapse onto his hands and knees. He coughed painfully and spat out a couple of teeth, followed by some blood. He panted, trying to regain his strength. His face was purple and bruised, the skin from one of his cheeks was grazed off, revealing the red meat beneath – but still – it looked like he was not going to go down without a fight. Snarling like a wild animal, he jumped up and aimed the knife at his enemy’s neck, but was quickly put back down with a swift kick to his chest. The shoe's sole connected with his body and sent a shock wave of pain all through him, the impact splintering his fragile bones. Falling to the ground, he groaned, writhing about, clutching at his broken ribs. The adversary looked down at the small man, towering over him like looming death. She was a tall, slender woman, clad in a dark blue, three-piece pinstripe suit and a white tie. A matching fedora rested upon her head. She had long silver hair that travelled to her derriere, almost seeming to shine like tin foil. The young, beautiful assassin smiled down at him as he looked up at her, regaining his strength, trying to get used to the unbearable pain. She did not seem to be in any rush, enjoying dishing out her target’s slow torment. It would have been no fun for her if the fight was over in mere seconds. He gasped, every tiny breath being agony, his splintered ribs piercing into his lungs. With what little strength he had left, he jumped up and went in for the kill, but was too slow as she plunged her sword directly into his eye. He dropped to the ground and did not move. The murderer drew the blade of the 1830 Napoleon Sabre out, cleaning it on the corpse’s suit, and sheathed it. Grabbing the dead man by his legs, she dragged him across the ground and kicked his body into a sewer. Within some seconds, there was a splash, and that was the end of that. Getting rid of the second piece of evidence, she kicked the knife away, letting it skitter across the pavement and into the sewer. A barely audible plop followed. The woman fixed up her hat and tie and walked over to the black briefcase that was on the ground, picked it up. With the job done and the evidence destroyed, she left the scene.
The assassin arrived at her house and proceeded to make her way to the basement. She opened a small, decrepit cupboard door and stepped inside, closing it behind herself. She pressed her palm against the back wall and slid it to the side, revealing a secret compartment with a staircase. A slight wind whipped at her hair as a breeze howled through the darkness. Stepping down the stairs, she slid the fake wall back into its place and ventured downwards towards the faint glow that emanated from the bottom of the dark pit. Finding herself in a corridor with lights on the walls, she made her way to the end. In front of her stood a metal door with the motto, “Populus enim pulvis” engraved onto it. She opened it, entering Pulvis. Working as a right-hand woman for a secret organisation did bring some benefits. Those who knew of her feared her like the Black Death. The others, she could just kill and there would be nothing to tie her to the scene of the crime. They would only end up as another name on the missing persons list. She was also the most powerful woman and the second most powerful person in the entire building. No one dared question her authority, carrying out whatever order she gave without a second thought. Life couldn't have been better. The building was filled with the sound of dull clunking of heavy boots. There were hundreds of henchmen doing their daily jobs, all dressed in long grey coats that made them look like they were covered in dust. Living inside an organisation that was fifty feet underground was not pleasant to the exposed skin. Some typed away on computers, some checked satellite images, whilst others annotated maps and documents, points of interest and plans that had yet to take shape. Others were scattered around the large base, doing their assigned daily jobs. Ellis made her way up a staircase, towards a pair of oak double doors, and opened them. She stepped into the large, lavish office and closed the doors behind herself. At a large, lacquered oak desk, sat a man in black. He looked at her from his comfortable, tall, black porter's chair. She walked up to him, stopping at the gleaming desk. The man was dressed in a sharp, plain, black three-piece suit. Behind him hung a long, white trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He was slightly shorter than average height, but what he lacked, he made up for with an impressively intimidating physique. There was a black mask over his mouth and nose and his eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark, Victorian spectacles. The only features that were visible were his rough, battle-scarred hands, decorated with a number of cuts, looking like he had put them through a blender. On the back of one of his hands, was a large, deep and ugly scar, looking as though he had survived a hacking. Ellis could not imagine what was hidden beneath that black veil. Or maybe she just did not want to.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Ellis Silver.” He greeted her in a raspy, broken voice, nodding casually.
“Artificis Proditor.” She greeted him back, returning the gesture.
“Is the job done?”
“Indeed it is.” Ellis stepped over to him, placing the briefcase down onto the desk. Artificis undid the clasps and opened it, taking out its contents. In his thumb and forefinger he lifted out a small pink gemstone that was cut to the highest degree. It glinted magnificently, reflecting itself off Artificis' spectacles. His cheekbones popped up through the mask as he grinned with madness, ecstatic to the bone with the tiny jewel. Ellis, on the other hand, did not seem that at all pleased, doing nothing to hide the deep frown that was present on her immaculate face. “I wasted my time on a small gemstone?” She asked with the tiniest hint of anger. Artificis chuckled lightly, not minding her displeasure as he stood up from his desk.
“This isn't just any gemstone, my dear. It's a pink star diamond, the only known specimen of its kind. This little thing is literally priceless.” He stood up from his desk and stepped over to a glass display cabinet. He opened it up, putting the diamond into a velvet cradle. It stood in the exact middle, outshining the other numerous treasures that were displayed, making them look dull compared to its sheer beauty. Artificis closed the cabinet and turned to her. “I have another job for you.”
“Please.” The angel of death instantly agreed, her anger immediately disappearing, herself eager for more work. The blood that stained her hands was long permanently bonded to her skin, having seeped beneath her veins and into her blackened soul itself. Nothing disconcerted her. A job was a job after all. Even the Devil shivered at the thought of her long list of victims.
“This one sly man cheated me in a poker game. I want you to bring me his head.”
“Do you mean that literally?”
Artificis just stared at her through his black spectacles, his eyebrows not twitching the tiniest bit.
“Of course. It shall be done.” Ellis quickly said.
“There is a casino not far from here, you will most likely find him there. If not, he may be around the surrounding bars. He's a sleazy man, average height, a fair amount of stubble, short dark hair. Trust me, you will spot him from a mile away.”
Ellis inclined her head in a small bow and spun on her heel, walking out of the office, beginning her mission.
