While i was researching on some really cool historical sights in Washington -okay, i admit it, its not really cool...it's...a bit....boring- someone knocked on my hotel room. Jeremy was still sleeping, sprawled on the bed beside mine. He was...snoring.
I grabbed my gun from underneath my pillow and walked towards the door. What? Being a Ghost isnt easy, you know! There are a lot of people who try to kill me and my kind. Im just making safety measures.
I count to three and opened the door, my Suppressor was waiting on my other side, the one that hid behind the door. Instead of seeing a freak with a i-want-to-kill-you-and-take-out-your-organs-and-eat-them expression i saw a smiling nineteen year old boy holding up a package. Hotel attendant. Great.
"What?" I asked, trying no to sound too annoyed.
"Umm..." he mumbled. Oh, did i forget to mention? Ghosts are really pretty to look at.
"Yeah?" I managed to quirk up a smile and gestured to the package he was holding. "Is that for me?"
"Oh," he said, looking at the package like he totally forgot it was there. "Um, yeah! I just need you to sign this."
He held out a piece of paper and a pen, which i signed. I gave him another smile as he handed over the package.
"I--uhh..." he started saying. It was like he was gonna ask me my number. If you knew me, you'd roll your eyes and say "Yeah, right, when did she ever give out her phone number?"
I smiled again and shut the door before he could even finish his sentence. Stupid humans. Why do they have to be so dumb? I mean, nothing personal, dude! Don't freak!
I locked the door and sat down on my king-sized bed. Awesome life for a assassin slash Ghost slash teenage slash sloppy, lazy, and miserable person right? I ripped open the package which showed a cellphone box. I opened it saw a brand new i-phone inside. Did i just hit the freaking jackpot or what?
There was a yellow Post-it paper attached to it. It read: Dial 1.
So i did.
It took five rings for someone to answer the other line.
"Hello?"
"May i speak to the Director, please?"
"Who's this?" the Director's blonde, skinny, im-gorgeous-and-i-know-it, secretary said. As if she didn't know me. Well, she pretended not to. Long history. I'll tell the story next time, okay?
"Twelve, niner-point-zero speaking," I said using my 'code name'. "Connect me with the Director, now."
There was a short pause. That usually happens when people hear that steel in my voice.
"Will do!" she said, after a freaking long moment! Goodness, whats happening to these people now a days?
She put me on hold. Jessie J.'s "Domino" was blaring in my ear. I tapped my hand to the beat. Yeah, that's me! A real music-trooper.
It took twenty more beat taps till the Director picked up in his really creepy, deep voice. I never ever saw him in real life. Is he like...really ugly? I mean, i dont mind ugly people. I live with Dean and Emmanuel. I know what ugly means. Just kidding. -Im literally hoping they aren't reading my blog right now.-
"Natalie," the Director said in a low, smooth, calm voice. He had a James Bond feel on his tone. But i was betting a hundred, no lets make that, a hundred thousand dollars that he was no way near to James Bond.
"Sir," I responded in a bored voice.
"There's a file inside the box that came with the cellphone," he said, getting into details. That's one thing nice about him. He doesn't hover on the small, boring parts. He gets straight into the details. How nice of him.
I leaned down a grabbed a dark file at the bottom of the box, and opened it. It showed pictures of a Caucasian man staring straight at her. He must have been in his early thirties. He was lean, tall, and had a really bad shave. He looked like a bad-ass assassin.
"The target's name is Jacob Duncan. He worked for Mystic Peak a few years back." the Director said in my ear.
WHAT?!? He worked for Mystic Peak a few years back? F.Y.I. the Director owns the Mystic Peak. It was the assassin association i was working for. If Jacob- freaking Duncan worked for Mystic Peak then he would be a really big problem. Great, everything i needed to start my day.
"He works with a Russian diplomat, and has undertaken a violent crime of killing sprees and also involves in numerous numbers of robberies. He lives in a strictly private and highly surveillant district in Washington. If you may turn to the next page you can get filled in where he lives."
I turned the next page and--whoa! I was expecting to see a mansion with a lot of guards and a huge menacing garden out in front of it with a fountain in the middle but instead i saw a...skyscraper. No, really! A freaking skyscraper. This guy lives in a freaking building? A building that read "Duncan Corporations". What? Was he poor enough to live in his own business? What a sham. And i thought he was a big shot assassin that owned a ton of mansions and a million cars. Instead---tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. This was gonna be a piece of cake.
"Im sorry, Agent Twelve Niner-Point-Zero, but i cannot give you any more information. All the information we have on Duncan is right in that file. I do not have any more information on the insights inside the building. Apparently, a spy of ours turned traitor at the last moment. So now, i have two missions for you. Kill Jacob Duncan and if you see Miles Rigger...kill him too."
Miles Rigger? No way! He could have never turned traitor. Miles is an...old friend of The Phoenix. He was a really nice man. I can't believe he turned traitor on Mystic Peak. But...what choice do i have? I kill who I'm supposed to kill.
Killing is my life, my destiny, my future. The only thing i depend on is slashing some throats and breaking some spines! You cant believe how much i love punching someone in the face, or smashing his chest and hearing that joyful sound of crack! which practically means that I've broken a rib or a bone. How much i love seeing blood drop from a victim's face, how much i love to see that vacant look on their faces, the cold realization that this was the end. I would be the last person who saw them alive.The last thing they saw was me. Smiling at them, wishing they'd burn in hell with all the others I have killed. This is how a Ghost feels when they kill. I am very ashamed to admit that, but...i can't help it. I was born to kill. I was born to bring these bad guys to hell. Born to make them suffer the consequences. I was their worst nightmare come alive to snatch the lives out of them. I hated them, and im sure they hated me too. But i didn't care. They'd still go to hell, whether they liked me or not. -Place a desired swear word here- them!
"Im on it!" I said and snapped the phone shut. I scanned the pages of the file again, staring back at Jacob Duncan's hating eyes. A quirked up a smile. I was looking at my 2,968th victim. I was bringing this guy to hell.
I grabbed my gun from underneath my pillow and walked towards the door. What? Being a Ghost isnt easy, you know! There are a lot of people who try to kill me and my kind. Im just making safety measures.
I count to three and opened the door, my Suppressor was waiting on my other side, the one that hid behind the door. Instead of seeing a freak with a i-want-to-kill-you-and-take-out-your-organs-and-eat-them expression i saw a smiling nineteen year old boy holding up a package. Hotel attendant. Great.
"What?" I asked, trying no to sound too annoyed.
"Umm..." he mumbled. Oh, did i forget to mention? Ghosts are really pretty to look at.
"Yeah?" I managed to quirk up a smile and gestured to the package he was holding. "Is that for me?"
"Oh," he said, looking at the package like he totally forgot it was there. "Um, yeah! I just need you to sign this."
He held out a piece of paper and a pen, which i signed. I gave him another smile as he handed over the package.
"I--uhh..." he started saying. It was like he was gonna ask me my number. If you knew me, you'd roll your eyes and say "Yeah, right, when did she ever give out her phone number?"
I smiled again and shut the door before he could even finish his sentence. Stupid humans. Why do they have to be so dumb? I mean, nothing personal, dude! Don't freak!
I locked the door and sat down on my king-sized bed. Awesome life for a assassin slash Ghost slash teenage slash sloppy, lazy, and miserable person right? I ripped open the package which showed a cellphone box. I opened it saw a brand new i-phone inside. Did i just hit the freaking jackpot or what?
There was a yellow Post-it paper attached to it. It read: Dial 1.
So i did.
It took five rings for someone to answer the other line.
"Hello?"
"May i speak to the Director, please?"
"Who's this?" the Director's blonde, skinny, im-gorgeous-and-i-know-it, secretary said. As if she didn't know me. Well, she pretended not to. Long history. I'll tell the story next time, okay?
"Twelve, niner-point-zero speaking," I said using my 'code name'. "Connect me with the Director, now."
There was a short pause. That usually happens when people hear that steel in my voice.
"Will do!" she said, after a freaking long moment! Goodness, whats happening to these people now a days?
She put me on hold. Jessie J.'s "Domino" was blaring in my ear. I tapped my hand to the beat. Yeah, that's me! A real music-trooper.
It took twenty more beat taps till the Director picked up in his really creepy, deep voice. I never ever saw him in real life. Is he like...really ugly? I mean, i dont mind ugly people. I live with Dean and Emmanuel. I know what ugly means. Just kidding. -Im literally hoping they aren't reading my blog right now.-
"Natalie," the Director said in a low, smooth, calm voice. He had a James Bond feel on his tone. But i was betting a hundred, no lets make that, a hundred thousand dollars that he was no way near to James Bond.
"Sir," I responded in a bored voice.
"There's a file inside the box that came with the cellphone," he said, getting into details. That's one thing nice about him. He doesn't hover on the small, boring parts. He gets straight into the details. How nice of him.
I leaned down a grabbed a dark file at the bottom of the box, and opened it. It showed pictures of a Caucasian man staring straight at her. He must have been in his early thirties. He was lean, tall, and had a really bad shave. He looked like a bad-ass assassin.
"The target's name is Jacob Duncan. He worked for Mystic Peak a few years back." the Director said in my ear.
WHAT?!? He worked for Mystic Peak a few years back? F.Y.I. the Director owns the Mystic Peak. It was the assassin association i was working for. If Jacob- freaking Duncan worked for Mystic Peak then he would be a really big problem. Great, everything i needed to start my day.
"He works with a Russian diplomat, and has undertaken a violent crime of killing sprees and also involves in numerous numbers of robberies. He lives in a strictly private and highly surveillant district in Washington. If you may turn to the next page you can get filled in where he lives."
I turned the next page and--whoa! I was expecting to see a mansion with a lot of guards and a huge menacing garden out in front of it with a fountain in the middle but instead i saw a...skyscraper. No, really! A freaking skyscraper. This guy lives in a freaking building? A building that read "Duncan Corporations". What? Was he poor enough to live in his own business? What a sham. And i thought he was a big shot assassin that owned a ton of mansions and a million cars. Instead---tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk. This was gonna be a piece of cake.
"Im sorry, Agent Twelve Niner-Point-Zero, but i cannot give you any more information. All the information we have on Duncan is right in that file. I do not have any more information on the insights inside the building. Apparently, a spy of ours turned traitor at the last moment. So now, i have two missions for you. Kill Jacob Duncan and if you see Miles Rigger...kill him too."
Miles Rigger? No way! He could have never turned traitor. Miles is an...old friend of The Phoenix. He was a really nice man. I can't believe he turned traitor on Mystic Peak. But...what choice do i have? I kill who I'm supposed to kill.
Killing is my life, my destiny, my future. The only thing i depend on is slashing some throats and breaking some spines! You cant believe how much i love punching someone in the face, or smashing his chest and hearing that joyful sound of crack! which practically means that I've broken a rib or a bone. How much i love seeing blood drop from a victim's face, how much i love to see that vacant look on their faces, the cold realization that this was the end. I would be the last person who saw them alive.The last thing they saw was me. Smiling at them, wishing they'd burn in hell with all the others I have killed. This is how a Ghost feels when they kill. I am very ashamed to admit that, but...i can't help it. I was born to kill. I was born to bring these bad guys to hell. Born to make them suffer the consequences. I was their worst nightmare come alive to snatch the lives out of them. I hated them, and im sure they hated me too. But i didn't care. They'd still go to hell, whether they liked me or not. -Place a desired swear word here- them!
"Im on it!" I said and snapped the phone shut. I scanned the pages of the file again, staring back at Jacob Duncan's hating eyes. A quirked up a smile. I was looking at my 2,968th victim. I was bringing this guy to hell.
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