The Distraction Prelude
She walks by.
I'm so distracted by my objective; I don't even notice her.
But her scent is all too familiar, and memories of temptation come flooding back into my mind.
My lip quivers.
I want to say something, but I can't; not after what she's done.
It was seven years ago; my first love as an adult. But that's not the whole story, is it?
She's alone, but that doesn't matter; not anymore.
I see through the reflection in the glass door to my left, closing as someone walks inside, the building at a perfect angle that lets me see her walking away; but she's not.
I can see her face, and she's just standing there.
All the feelings from the past are gone, even the anger.
It's been seven years now; seven years of not being able to trust a woman; seven years of blaming everyone but myself.
Bitter?
Not anymore.
I've learned my lesson. It's not just women, but all people.
Sure, some people deny it.
Some bury those feelings deep inside.
And why?
No; they're not ethical.
Out of touch with their needs; their desires. But I am going to save them. And the thanks I get? I'll be hunted and ostracized if I make even the tiniest mistake that leads the authorities on to my trail.
I sense she's watching me, but I can't know for sure.
That door has closed and has remained locked ever since I realized I lost at a game I didn't even know she was playing.
I let the man exiting the door step in front of me, stalling as I take a last glimpse of her profile. She finally takes a step away, but I still don't understand why she would just stop and stare down a boring city street.
And she is here.
I feel my emotions stirring inside. Once again, I let her beauty distract me from my true nature. Years of study and training have added up to more ashes on top of the remnants from the flames her fire formed.
They want me to stop.
To tell her my life is going great would be a lie and the worst possible decision I could make right now as I watch her blonde curls bounce away into the afternoon's city smog.
That I don't need her anymore is what I need to repeat to myself like a mantra in hopes of hearing a reply from My Creator.
But is that the truth? So much has changed with her in town this weekend. It just doesn't make sense anymore.
Not at her though, but I've already told you that.
She's still there, but why? Did she see me? Maybe wondering if I saw her?
If I could turn for a moment, glancing across the street, I'll catch another glimpse of her.
But she's gone.
Maybe she didn't even notice me, but now I've got to stay focused.
I could lose it all.
But she must have seen me.
She never found me funny.
I could tell when she laughed, there was a falseness to it that always bothered me.
Maybe I never had a sense of humor? Maybe I lost it when I met her? Maybe I lost it when she left? That's for certain.
Did I ever have a sense of humor? I wonder to myself that question so often it distracts me from my purpose.
A constant distraction acting as a prelude to my every action.
...
The meeting was delayed an hour or so, but I finally made it. I circled the area after my run in with fate just to be sure.
The men are wearing matching shiny navy suits, but that just indicates they'll be able to afford my services.
"So, you want me to take out a Prince Ali Salema Houssein before an election?" I open the discussion without feigning any pleasantries.
"I'm afraid you've misinformed," the middle-aged man sitting in between the other two corporate desk jockeys.
"How so?" I ask, "we had a deal. I don't break deals that I shake hands with."
"We just found ourselves from our sources that Ali will have no impact on the future of our civilization," the older man cuts in, relieving some of the tension.
"So, who then?" I ask.
"Someone from you past," the young cocky know-it-all interrupts.
"Oh," I assume I know, but I always thought I was just crazy back then.
"She is a powerful sorceress," the older again calms my nerves, "made very close friends with the lady about to win this term."
"So, what does that mean?" I ask.
"Plain and simple, your ex is here to have dinner with him. Should that happen, the new monarchy will be at her mercy. We simply can't have that." The middle child speaks.
"Okay, kids, this is too much coincidence for me," I admit, ready to walk away.
"If they have that dinner, we would double the ransom for you to engage them both," said the eldest.
"I saw her today," I inform the three messengers.
"That's not good," chimes in the young novice, eager to introduce doubts of my skills.
"It might be too late," the middleman states, turning his focus to his left, checking with the elder to verify his claim.
"There's nobody else," the elder says, resting his chin on his fist as a streak of pure white runs from his forehead down to the back of his neck, giving him a skunk-like appearance, and reminding me that I am here to do the Lord's work, and gracefully at that.
My lip quivers.
I pray it isn't her.
I was once her prey; though the irony escapes me as it always has.
I want to say something, but I can't; not after what she's done.
The pain never subsided.
I became emotionally disconnected and unaware of the change in my perception as it happened and crippled my social skills.
It was seven years ago; my first love as an adult. But that's not the whole story, is it?
My first love in life turned out to teach me a very painful lesson; one that I will never forget or repeat to regret.
She's alone, but that doesn't matter; not anymore.
Alone for the moment, but she certainly has her roster of victims she toys with every week.
Another poor sap, desperate for a good woman to make into a wife, finds her beauty hypnotic as his finances disappear and his heart drops slowly over months until all that is left is a puddle of ashes where she burned his genuine character into the miserable darkness to join her and scorned soul.
I see through the reflection in the glass door to my left, closing as someone walks inside, the building at a perfect angle that lets me see her walking away; but she's not.
She just stands there as if she sensed me looking at her from behind the door, though the glare denies her vision a sight so bitter as the man who barely escaped her clutches.
I can see her face, and she's just standing there.
Why now? Why here?
What does she want?
Where is she headed?
The chances of her being right here right now are virtually nil.
All the feelings from the past are gone, even the anger.
Well, that's not true.
She burned a deep resentment behind my ribs that aches every time I pull a sweet, comforting drag off one of the only friends I can count on to do as expected.
It's been seven years now; seven years of not being able to trust a woman; seven years of blaming everyone but myself.
Seven years and the hell she put me through landed me here, in this profession.
I spent that time harnessing very unique skills to ensure I would always walk away safely.
Bitter?
Now?
Perhaps.
Better at earning a dishonest living where the term blood money can definitely be taken literally. She once had dinner with the lonely foreigner, and now, before the elections begin, I have a mission involving his visit here, but her presence changes the dynamic; it changes all the variables I compute in the equation that leads to my target being assassinated with no way to tie it back to me.
Not anymore.
There's just no way she would be here in New York, thousands of miles from her beachfront lair, on the day I scheduled my practice run before the diplomat arrives. This makes no sense. Does she know what I've become? Is she here to prevent me from completing my task?
I've learned my lesson. It's not just women, but all people.
Always seeing the better deal somewhere else.
Always calculating what makes them the happiest, but they don't know true happiness.
True happiness comes after you've fallen from grace into the darkest pit, a bottomless abyss, and clawed your way back into the world; half broken, no longer the same person; a new being, born from her hatred.
Sure, some people deny it.
They claim to be selfless, but to be truly selfless, only I can claim that.
The hermit showed me the future, and it's a dark, dismal ending in just a few years after she wins the election with only a millionaire moron as her opponent.
The people don't even have a vote anymore with electoral colleges and lobbyists swaying favor for their employers.
I risk everything I have built to prevent the collapse of our civilization, and payment is but a promise of a few hundred thousand Euros, if I can safely escape after I complete my mission.
Some bury those feelings deep inside.
Claiming selflessness with charity and good will.
That's all horseshit.
Charity and volunteering are just another project to keep the masses trotting n the wine press as bread and circus distract them from their God-given rights to real freedom and happiness.
We refer to people like that as ethical; moral.
They have standards.
They help society and the community as they step over the disgusting homeless smelly pile on their way to give back to the hungry and poor, too busy to see a dying man starving at their feet.
And why?
Because they don't acknowledge their own primordial instincts of survival?
Nobody does anymore. Killing is murder. Even vegetarians have started the trend that animals have rights too.
If it was up to them, we'd all be dead, and there would be plenty of space for all the animals we hunted to procreate endlessly.
A dog is a man's best friend, but only because he never answered the call of the wild.
That is the call that saved me as I struggled to find the light in the darkness, she tossed me into as soon as she found her next victim.
No; they're not ethical.
They're out of touch. Assassinating a foreign diplomat next Tuesday as she addresses the graduating class at Stern School of Business, the elitist apprentices, already stocked with more silver and gold than they ever needed to survive.
Out of touch with their needs; their desires. But I am going to save them. And the thanks I get? I'll be hunted and ostracized if I make even the tiniest mistake that leads the authorities on to my trail.
I sense she's watching me, but I can't know for sure.
How could she? The door is open, a man is standing in front of it, and the glare prevents any chance if she was even looking in my direction.
That door has closed and has remained locked ever since I realized I lost at a game I didn't even know she was playing.
It's a hard pill to swallow; ironically, Hilary will have an easy time swallowing the pill I've engineered for her final speech.
I let the man exiting the door step in front of me, stalling as I take a last glimpse of her profile. She finally takes a step away, but I still don't understand why she would just stop and stare down a boring city street.
The avenues in either direction is filled with boutiques to pleasure her shallow desires.
He's gone now, and I've got a meeting to get to.
There's now a new factor I have to add into this equation if I'm going to safely execute another's nation's official and shortly thereafter diffuse the catalyst for global destruction; but the real question is why they hired a rank amateur with only a few decades experience abroad when they have their demolition crew to efficiently even out any imbalance in their financially fueled feuds from foreigners or familiars.
And she is here.
They met once for dinner, I think.
It's foggy now. I don't remember what their relationship was or is, but my Lord gave me one simple reminder: there are no coincidences.
I feel my emotions stirring inside. Once again, I let her beauty distract me from my true nature. Years of study and training have added up to more ashes on top of the remnants from the flames her fire formed.
They want me to stop.
Everything inside of me is telling to get out.
Forget assassinating the new administration; just run. Seeing her is a sign, and the last time I saw her, it almost killed me.
To tell her my life is going great would be a lie and the worst possible decision I could make right now as I watch her blonde curls bounce away into the afternoon's city smog.
That I don't need her anymore is what I need to repeat to myself like a mantra in hopes of hearing a reply from My Creator.
Well, re-creator after I bargained for a second chance at redemption for the mere price of an unnecessary and unwanted soul.
But is that the truth? So much has changed with her in town this weekend. It just doesn't make sense anymore.
I'm too distracted to focus on my mission, and the meeting I'm already late to will determine the fate of the civilized world.
The Next Day...
The anger inside of me from seven years ago has manifested into something else.
I found my calling and it's the anger that drives me.Not at her though, but I've already told you that.
She's still there, but why? Did she see me? Maybe wondering if I saw her?
If I could turn for a moment, glancing across the street, I'll catch another glimpse of her.
But she's gone.
Maybe she didn't even notice me, but now I've got to stay focused.
I could lose it all.
Everything I've built up in the last seven years disappear in an instant for one small mistake.
But she must have seen me.
Fate has dealt me a new hand.
She never found me funny.
I could tell when she laughed, there was a falseness to it that always bothered me.
Maybe I never had a sense of humor? Maybe I lost it when I met her? Maybe I lost it when she left? That's for certain.
Did I ever have a sense of humor? I wonder to myself that question so often it distracts me from my purpose.
A constant distraction acting as a prelude to my every action.
...
The meeting was delayed an hour or so, but I finally made it. I circled the area after my run in with fate just to be sure.
The men are wearing matching shiny navy suits, but that just indicates they'll be able to afford my services.
"So, you want me to take out a Prince Ali Salema Houssein before an election?" I open the discussion without feigning any pleasantries.
"I'm afraid you've misinformed," the middle-aged man sitting in between the other two corporate desk jockeys.
"How so?" I ask, "we had a deal. I don't break deals that I shake hands with."
I lower my brow, clearly informing these fine gentlemen I'm not one to be toyed with like a pet store mouse for the kitten to slap the shit out of until boredom kicks in.
"We just found ourselves from our sources that Ali will have no impact on the future of our civilization," the older man cuts in, relieving some of the tension.
"So, who then?" I ask.
"Someone from you past," the young cocky know-it-all interrupts.
"Oh," I assume I know, but I always thought I was just crazy back then.
"She is a powerful sorceress," the older again calms my nerves, "made very close friends with the lady about to win this term."
"So, what does that mean?" I ask.
"Plain and simple, your ex is here to have dinner with him. Should that happen, the new monarchy will be at her mercy. We simply can't have that." The middle child speaks.
"Okay, kids, this is too much coincidence for me," I admit, ready to walk away.
"If they have that dinner, we would double the ransom for you to engage them both," said the eldest.
"However, if you can eliminate the wicked witch first, you will find yourself very comfortable.
And best of all," he continues as I pull up a chair from the corner of the room and seat myself right in front center of all three of them from across their fancy boardroom table.
He sighs.
I yawn.
This is so much easier than a public figure.
"Before you jump to the mission, you should know, she knows you are here, and somehow, we really don't understand how, but she is aware of the new directive targeting her."
"I saw her today," I inform the three messengers.
"That's not good," chimes in the young novice, eager to introduce doubts of my skills.
"It might be too late," the middleman states, turning his focus to his left, checking with the elder to verify his claim.
"There's nobody else," the elder says, resting his chin on his fist as a streak of pure white runs from his forehead down to the back of his neck, giving him a skunk-like appearance, and reminding me that I am here to do the Lord's work, and gracefully at that.