"Hush hush, Sammy," a voice says to their son. I see a man holding his child in his arms, hushing him.
I didn't care. They still were going to die one day, why not speed up the process a little bit and get it over with.
I didn't know what it was like to lose someone. I didn't know what it was like to feel anything. That was just how I was programmed. A robot designed to be nothing more than a tool.
I pulled out my shotgun. I sat on the rooftop, hair blowing in the wind. My fingers latched around the trigger as I aimed at the man.
If it was any other day, I would've left him there with his child, but my employers said he knew too much. I didn't care if he knew anything. This was a job and dying would be a minor inconvenience that I'd rather avoid.
Click. It was over. He was dead with his son crying on the floor, trying to wake up his dad. "I'm sorry, no witnesses," I murmured to myself. I aimed the gun at the boy. Click. Dead. He was dead, but I didn't care. My job was done.
I packed up the shotgun in its case.
I opened my flip phone. "I assume it has been done?" a woman asked.
"Yes."
"With no feelings attached?"
"No feelings. Just give me some money so I may continue to live in this boring existence."
"You sure are demanding for being only fourteen years old. Did you get rid of the body?"
"Your men just arrived to take care of it."
"Good. When you get back, you'll have your money."
I closed the phone and began walking to the fire escape. I climbed down to the ground below me.
"Hello," a man's voice said from behind me, "We should have a chat." I turned around to see a man I didn't know but did. Words liked to appear around people when I wanted to know them.
"Hello, Phil Coulson," I said as I threw the flip phone down and crushed it under my foot. "If you don't mind, I would not like to get arrested. It would be a major inconvenience."
His eyes widened at my emotionless face.
"Did you kill that man and boy?"
"I've killed a lot of men and boys, you'll have to be more specific."
"The ones you just killed."
"Why would you ask me a question when you already know the answer to it?"
"Well--"
"Nevermind, I don't care and don't have time." I pulled out my Glock 43 and aimed it at him. "I wasn't paid to kill you, so I don't have to if you get out of my way. I know that death is a minor inconvenience and people prefer to avoid it."
"First of all, I haven't even said my name yet," Phil points out, "Second of all, I'm not going to arrest you--"
"Yeah, you're just going to follow me to my employer then arrest them for hiring an assassin," I state, "And you'll let me walk free, but with no money. Now, money is apparently something I need so that I can live, so no deal."
"You must be like Sherlock Holmes," Coulson says.
"No, I'm better than him because unlike him, I can tell when I have people watching my back and you may want to get Agent Kyle, Agent Bruce, Agent Jerome, and Agent Ecco to a hospital as soon as possible 'cause they'll bleed out in about thirty minutes," I say as I looked at my watch.
"Also, how is being dead?" I asked, "I only ask 'cause I want to know what the inevitable looks like." Then, I ran off in random directions.
"You did a good job, Pandora," the red-haired woman said.
"I always do a proficient job, Lindsey Polluton," I said. Her eyes went wide as wide as saucers at my deduction. "Oh, so you didn't want me to say your name? It is supposed to be a secret, correct? So that you can keep your family as far away from your life of crime as possible. It'd be a tragedy if I reported your name just as reference to the police."
"How do you know that?!" she yelled at me.
"You look, but do not observe," I murmur under my breath. "You see, a lot like you, I don't like people saying my name. So, just think next time before you speak."
I took the money from her desk and left.
"Oh, look! The psychopath is here!" Kelsie sarcastically called as I entered the restaurant.
"Shut up, Kelsie. You make everyone's IQ smaller just by speaking," I called out.
I read Kelsie like a book. She had a short skirt that was slightly too tight on her along with a button up shirt that was also too tight but was just unbuttoned enough to show her cleavage. Her nails were painted a sensual red along with her lips. Her makeup was done more naturally, however.
"Why don't you just get out of here, Logan?" she asked.
"Why? Think I'll distract Jordan from your bust or your butt?" I retaliated.
"Excuse me, but I have a job interview with the manager for your information."
"Yes, that's what you're trying to convey with Jordan. You want him to think that you're naturally posh and sexy," I explained, "The short tight pencil skirt is meant to look professional and so is your shirt once you put that blazer over top of it. The red nails and lips are meant to look classy, but you're going for a more sensual look. That also goes along with the natural makeup."
"This is also a way for you to woo the manager into giving you the job, but sadly it's not going to work," I continued, "Since you are so dumb, you didn't even ask anyone, not even Google, who the manager was. And by the interior design of this place, I'd say it is run by either a straight female by all the posters and pictures of male idols from the sixties or by a gay man. Though, I do believe they will be fairly young. Probably thirty-two."
She stared at me with the most intense glare I had ever seen and I enjoyed it thoroughly. "Hey, Kelsie, the manager is ready for you," Jordan says. "Oh! Hey, Logan!" he greeted. Kelsie, now jealous, went to the back door to the manager.
"Hey, Jordan. Are you aware that Kelsie is trying to have sex with you?"
"Uh, no, but I'm not into her anyway," he says as he goes back behind the counter. "I personally don't like girls who wear tight clothes just to impress guys."
"Yeah, you're more attracted to a personality, which Kelsie has none," I joke.
"Agreed," Jordan laughs.
After a few minutes of me eating my meal and waiting to hear whether Kelsie got the job, Jordan and I conversed about a book of poems he had read.
Then, Kelsie walked out with the best face imaginable. You could practically see the flame in her eyes. "Glad to see you didn't get the job. Maybe you should actually do your research next time," I taunted, "So, it was a gay man, I presume."
"How could you tell, psychopath?" she asked angrily. Every word she spoke had a sense of fury within them and I enjoyed it to the fullest.
"Again, I will tell you, I am a high-functioning sociopath. Anyway, it's obvious. Your lipstick has lost a bit of its color, meaning you had tried to seduce him by kissing him in some way. Your clothes are now more wrinkled and disoriented than before, meaning he pushed you off, but it wasn't a strong push," I point out, "Now, he could have just been trying to not hurt you, but I would guess it's because he is more feminine."
"Am I wrong?" I ask. Both Kelsie and Jordan looked at me for a moment, before Jordan began laughing.
"Well, I better be going. See ya," I say before hopping off of my stool.
The streets of New York. The same old musty smell always evident in the air and advertisement for merchandise of the famous Avengers everywhere. There was no place in America where you wouldn't see Avengers merch. I didn't really care for the Avengers all that much. Yeah, they've saved the world which included me, but to me, they're just putting in too much effort for this boring existence.
There were always the little things that made living a little more bearable; such as annoying the hell out of Kelsie or occasionally getting to shoot someone who really annoys me. Man, shooting Kelsie would be the most liberating, but yet most frustrating thing ever. I'd be happy she wasn't being an annoying slut anymore, but then who would I call an annoying slut? It'd also be a lot of hard work to find another annoying slut to bother.
I scanned through people. Someone was going to try to either mug, rape, or kill me. Most likely mug.
Then, a man grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into a dark alleyway. There was a knife threateningly by my throat, but I couldn't be more bored. "Why are the people always trying to kill me so boring?" I ask myself.
"Give me your money and we won't have a problem," the man gruffly says. I roll my blue and brown eyes at him.
"So boring!" I complain. As I whined, I snatched his own wallet and stuffed it into my hoodie pocket. I then grabbed his arm that held the knife and twisted it away from my face. He looked angry at me as I, a small child with cute little freckles on her face, flipped him onto the cold wet cement.
"Thanks for the free cash, John!" I call out as I stick out my tongue and run away.
I had run around the city until the dark night came to say hello. I had entered a park that didn't seem too familiar, but it was whatever. I sat on one of the many swings and just sat there. The starless sky was dull to some, but even if there were stars were there, I wouldn't be interested.
"Logan?" a voice called out.
"Grant Ward," I say his name.
"You heard of me?"
"No, but you seem like a Grant Ward. Here to recruit me for H.Y.D.R.A., huh? Thought they stuck with their own people."
"Yeah, but my bosses heard you are the best assassin in the business. Some would even compare you to the Winter Soldier..."
"James Barnes would never be able to compare against me 'cause, unlike him, I don't have feelings. Tell me, what do you feel when I mention Sky?"
You could nearly hear the thump in his heart at the name. "Sky, a beautiful name, but one she chose didn't she. She's probably the one person you've ever loved like that. Wish I could know what that felt like, maybe it'd make life less boring."
"So, you're a sociopath." He walks into my view finally. His hair was a dark brown, his eyes a dark chocolate brown. He had a little scruff, but he was very attractive. My cheeks flushed without my say so as he sat beside me on a blue swing. "Now, the thing about sociopaths is that they can still find people sexually attractive, but they do not love. Do you love anyone, Logan?"
"Now, that is wrong about me. The fact is that I'm not a sociopath. Sociopath describes someone who lacks empathy and I don't lack empathy," I explain, "I just keep it very well hidden, even from myself."
"Why is that?" he asks.
"I don't know. I seem to have kept memories like that also well hidden," I answer. I look over at him. He truly was sexually attractive. His brown leather jacket was not helping at all.
"You like me, don't you?" he teased.
"J-just tell me the job and how much I'll get paid," I demanded. Who did he think he was teasing me like that?
"We'd be sending you to Russia. Your job will be to kill this man who has been looking too much into our base there. You get the job done, we'll pay you five million dollars in cash, just like you like it," Ward explains as he hands me a picture, "His name is--"
"Stepanov Petr Antonovich. He seems young, I'd say twenty-five to thirty, but most likely twenty-five," I point out, "Has a newborn by the way he's walking in this picture and how he's covered in countless stains. Wife is only a few years older than him. He works at an office job only a little ways away from his home, so he can help with the baby, but still go to work."
He stared at me. "You're trying to impress me, aren't you? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't date fourteen-year-olds."
"Shut up or I will shoot you," I threaten.
"Anyway, will you take the job?"
"Sure, why not? Not often I get to go to a foreign country."