Assignment #243
Location: London, England
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Eye color: Green
Description: Brown hair, approximately 6'0", distinguishing feature: tattoos along left arm, sternum, and stomach
Mission: Find the man with the rose tattoo. Discover secret location of hard drive by any means necessary. Terminate once uncovered.
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Another assignment. Another mission. Another life to take.
The endless train of bodies rounded up for slaughter does not stop nor does it rest for the wicked.
I am wicked.
To say that what I do is the pride and joy of my very essence would be a lie but not necessarily far from the truth.
What I like is that I am powerful. I am the hurricane, the tornado, the fire that ruins all in its path. I cannot be stopped. I like that I am wicked.
What I hate is that I am alone. A solitary being. I cannot love, I cannot have family, I cannot be loved. I destroy.
I am a machine meant to kill or be killed.
I choose to survive.
The ones who send me my assignments call me Jasper.
My true name, like many other things, is long forgotten.
It started with a K...three syllables...maybe four....
Whatever it was, it does not matter anymore. Pushing away memories was only one part of the training I underwent to become what I am today.
I am like one of the four horsemen, sent to pillage and kill at a moments notice.
I am wicked.
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Tasteless, ruminating, undulating.... toxic and smoke.
The omnipresent darkness coils around the dank club as I watch from the shadows.
I arrived in London at dawn and milled through the streets biding my time until more information came through about my target.
At approximately 1600 hours the text came through.
Remmy's on Brixton road.
Upon initial examination, I discovered it was a nightclub. Upscale and yet exactly like the rest. A place for sinful desires and poisonous drinks.
It is now closing in on 03:00 and I am beginning to think my assignment has not followed through on their plans for this evening. My eyes have scoured every inch of this place and I have not seen a man with a rose tattoo.
The smokey haze of the club hides me well. My black wig hiding the true color of my hair that would draw too much attention to myself flows gently down my back. My clothes are black as night as well, nothing too flashy but still appropriate for the climate of the club. One of my color contact lenses scrapes across my eye but I do not dare adjust it.
Pain is a part of the game after all.
As if the heavens have parted and deposited a ray of glowing light, a man in an all white suit with black detailing comes down from the upstairs area. It cannot be helped that my eyes are immediately drawn to him.
He wants to be seen.
I slink along the walls, untouched drink in hand, and watch closely at the exchange that I am witnessing. The man has brown hair, his eye color undetected behind his black glasses and I believe that I have found my assignment when I notice something dip out of the door behind the man in all white.
A flash of a rose along an arm draws me out of the shadows.
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My training has taught me to never go for the obvious.
As I clutch my trench coat around my body, my heels softly clicking with my every step, I notice that the man I am pursuing is the exact opposite of obvious.
As he walks, he hangs his head forward as if trying to diminish himself, somehow making him appear smaller when he is in fact every bit of the height described in my assignment details. His left arm is littered in extensive tattoos, the meaning of them unimportant for the task at hand, and his hair is a dark muddy brown, curling below his ears.
He is roughly twenty feet ahead of me as I tail him through the streets of London and at this hour, they are relatively empty. I pull my phone out as I notice his shoulders start to tense and proceed to look like I am chatting on the phone when his head swivels behind him to see if he is being followed.
I know you feel the wicked thing following you.
His head turns back forward but I keep the phone up to my ear, a quiet laugh leaving my lips to continue the charade. His pace quickens only slightly and I back off, not wanting to give myself away. He is now far ahead of me but my hawk eye vision is not threatened in the slightest. I watch as he enters a building on the right and I wait several minutes before entering as well.
Looking to the elevators, I see only two. One is waiting in the lobby while the other is heading up and stops on the eighth floor.
Got you.
As I leave the building, careful to avoid being seen by cameras, I make my way across the street to a tall business building. It is locked, but of course it is, and it is no matter to me. I will get in easily, and I do.
When I am settled on the eighth floor in the cold and empty office, I pull my binoculars out and scan each room across the street. None of them are lit.
No matter.
I quickly scan the building next to his apartment building and find it is abandoned, although I am sure there is quite the array of rats and homeless persons living inside but again, that is of no consequence to me.
I slip back out of the office building and head towards the abandoned one. It is ancient, old cobbled stones, broken bricks, wooden planks to keep the wicked out.
Before I enter, I glance up and see that there are three lights on on the eighth floor and a devious smile creeps onto my slightly chapped lips.
Hi honey, I'm home.
I take the heels off of my feet and slide a long leg through the hole between the aged wooden boards and slip through without a sound.
My training has prepared me for stealth. I am like the silent breeze on a cold night. Not a whisper, not a single trace of my presence known.
Perched in the windowsill, the smell of mold and animal life wafting around me, I bring my binoculars up to my eyes to look at the three windows opposite of me.
The first room is feminine in nature, not at all what I'd suspect my target to live in and so I scan over to the next apartment. It is brightly lit, decorated very modernly and although I do not believe this to be his space, I wait patiently, for I have all the time in the world.
As I go to set the binoculars down, a flash of movement catches my eyes in the third apartment. Without a second thought, I bring the binoculars back up and am pleased to find my assignment entering into the living room space, peeling his shirt away from his body.
I zoom in hoping to see the rose tattoo for confirmation and take a snapshot when I do. It will be deposited along with any other shots I decide need to be taken so that my superiors know I have the right man that they are looking for.
My target sinks down into his couch, an old suede loveseat positioned directly in front of a plasma television that hangs on the white wall. He drags long fingers through his curly hair and I notice that he has rings on each digit.
Another snapshot and I'm zooming in farther.
I pull my eyes away to look across at the man seated on his couch outside of the zoomed in focus and admire him from afar.
If I were allowed to be attracted to someone, I would think I'd be attracted to him.
His jawline, even from this distance, is something that is cut from marble. His cheekbones perched high with a sharp nose dipping just above his plush lips.
I observe and I monitor and eventually he turns his head to look out of his wide and expansive windows.
Anyone else would have immediately dropped to the ground, drawn attention to themselves but I am not just anyone. I have angled myself in such a way that the glass of my window refracts the moon light, covering me easily from his gaze. He will not see me unless I want him to.
It is in that moment that I have the clearest view of his eyes. A slow hand brings the binoculars up to my eyes and I zoom in to see he has begun to look down, triumph floods me as my plan has worked, and I see that his eyes are....
mesmerizing.
A light hue, even in this darkness, a brilliant shade of green. A sea of green algae pooling in soft hooded eyes.
If I were allowed to love something. I think I'd love his eyes.
The man brings his gaze back to the television and I lower the gadget in my hands at the same time that I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
My training has prepared me for everything. I am capable of jumping clear across buildings, I am capable of withstanding tremendous amounts of blistering pain, and I am capable of hacking into any system, slipping into any locked fortress, I am capable of incredible feats.
My training did not prepare me, however, to understand feelings... only that they are evil in nature. To feel is to lose oneself...and Jasper was never one to find herself lost.