Licensed Murder

[ 2 ] ..---

I apologize for the delay, been busy :) Also I apologze if it seems rushed, It kinda was :P

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The siren of the ambulance wailed in the background as I lay inside on the bed. Man this was luxury. If you were unlucky enough to get hurt back at training, you got a slap on the back.

Once I remember being stabbed by the reflex machine, yes, stabbed. But seriously, who the heck in their right freaking mind would purposely stick knifes onto fast moving objects aimed at your face? Who? and all they did was throw me in the back of an off roader Jeep. Genius, mate. Why don't we just chuck her in the back of a tractor while we're at it. I turned in the bed to face the paramedic who was currently muttering about youngsters these days and how they thought their lives were hard. I was honoured really. I'm not that young, to be honest.

As I turned, with pain escalating through my body, I felt something hard in the folds of my long black coat. Shit, my gun. We took a sharp left and over a series of bumps. A hospital. I cringed at the thought of trying to bust myself out of here.

It's one thing to escape from a bathroom in a room with only 1 other person, but a hospital full of doctors, security, patients, visitors and perverts was another. Not to mention the eyes. Oh the eyes. No matter whether you just broke your leg or had a full face reconstruction, there's bound to be a pair of eyes watching you. Not the best of things when stealth is your main focus.

My eyes closed at the horrific thought as I clenched my fist. This is all mafia-boy's fault.

"Oh sweetie, looks like we'll have to give you a stronger dose of pain-killers, huh? You've been really strong until now, good job! But, don't hide your pain, okay?" Crap, how young does she think I am? Okay, now I'm just insulted.

The idiocy of showing anger on my face caused me to be given anaesthesia. God-damnit. Mafia-boy, I'm gonna freaking kill you. My eyes begun to get heavy as the doors of the ambulance swung open and then everything went dark. But just before it did, I swear I saw a tall, figure standing not too far away by a car. Mafia-boy?

A hand began moving in the dark. No. Don't come any closer. The joints, like greased tin, moved fluidly. I backed into the corner. My arm hit something solid. I turned quickly. A pair of intense, almost too bright eyes bore into mine. The hand got closer. No,no, I have to get away. The eyes just watched as I began fumbling with the lock on the window that the body that the eyes belonged to was leaning on. Move! The eyes laughed. Wait, I said that aloud? Wait, eyes laugh? I took a swift glance at the eyes again. They still were staring into mine. Whoa, were they so sad before?

A pair of intense, sad eyes bore into mine.

"AAAHHHH!" I shrieked as my hands flew to cover my face.

"What?" They said. Great, now they talk.

"Get a grip, Iris Row, you're dreaming. It's all a dream." I whispered, yanking my hands away from my face. A sharp pain came from my wrist.

"Excuse me, nurse? I think she pulled her drip out." Hmm, the eyes now showed mock concern, huh?

My eyes flew open. "See here you son of a bi-" I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Oh, so you're sane?" Mafia-boy?

"Sir, could you please enter the name of the Miss into the computer to check for pre-existing medical conditions?"

"Of course" With that, mafia-boy took a seat at the nearest machine. My eyes began to feel droopy again. I tried to resist as the darkness closed in, but it was too late, the second dose of anaesthesia was kicking in.

The stupid hand came to haunt me again.

A good couple of hours later my eyes slowing forced themselves apart. Hmm, mafia-boy must have gone. "Excuse me sir, she is all good now. You may take her home." Said a nurse from behind the counter labelled 'EMERGENCY'.

Too my utter horror, a deep voice answered back. "Yes mam." With that he slowly placed an arm around my middle while the other pulled my arm across his shoulders. "You right?"

"Yeah, fine" I replied. Wait. Had I made a mistake? Last night I was 100% sure I had the right guy. 'Tall, dark hair, black jeans, grey hoddie, slight stubble, scar running down right arm'. Oh, I had the guy alright. I snuck a glance at the arm that now held my waist. The end of a scar poked under the edge of his sleeve.

As I limped towards the exit, my hypothesis proved to be correct. Eyes from all over the place bore into the wounds on my head and leg, and finally my eyes. This is not good. Anyone of them could be the enemy. Wait, the man standing next to me is an enemy. Whaaaa? I shook my head to get rid of the useless thought. He has no clue as to who I am. To him, I'm just an unfortunate lost soul. But I had no room for error. I had already taken up the room for error when I entered this bloody hospital.

The beauty about public displays of affection is that one either ends up averting their eyes, or ends up just leaving the room. This was gold. If I could somehow leave the hospital clinging onto mafia-boy like a monkey, I was home free. No-one would suspect a freaking thing. Brilliant.

The corners of my mouth turned up. I had a plan. Oh, the joys of being female...

"Thank you so much for helping me! I really owe you my life! Please let me show my appreciation in a deeper way than words!" I flirted, batting my eyes like a stupid bimbo whilst nudging my head into his chest.

He smirked. "Sure" Yup, he's just a poor, messed up, innocent guy stuck in a world of evil. Not to mention, a pervert. I hugged him tighter as we walked through the front entrance. I took a swift glance back the way we came and it looked like my plan had worked. Yes!

As we stepped outside a shrill breeze of cold wind swept across my face. Then the wind got knocked out of me. Someone had their hand over my eyes while the other pushed my back against a wall. I swung my arms around, aiming at the body in front of me. But the two occupied hands released then grabbed my wrists instead, once again pinning me against the wall. My tightly shut eyes flew open in alarm. It was mafia- boy.

"I don't know who you are, or who you work for; but when I do, you're dead." With that he aimed a final punch at my stomach. What blew my cover? I doubled over in pain. A loose sheet of paper made its way roughy into my hand. And a cold hard metal object. My gun. As I straightened up, all I saw was the back of mafia-boy walking swiftly away. I glanced at the sheet in my hand. I gasped. It read-

"Name- IRIS ROW

Birthdate- 15 OCTOBER 1990

Occupation- Accountant

Medical Problems- NIL

Address- Unit 3, Hillside Block off Newt street, New York

Status- DECEASED ON THE 14TH OF APRIL, 2010"

Shit. I'm dead.