A Nice Day...For a Flawless Killing (Closed)

What a warm, nice day in Tampa. Zoran's favorite jobs in America were always in Florida. Ever since he came to the United States decades ago, he hoped every job would send him to Florida. For a few moments he sat there basking in the sunlight. Relaxing right before a job was the best relaxing of all. When you just relaxed with nothing to do, it was almost uncomfortable. When you had to do something soon though, it just felt great.

Right now he had a job to do though. He was on a several story building somewhere around 100 feet from the podium on which his target now stood. This man was the next mayoral candidate for Tampa Bay and Zoran knew that this man was as corrupt as the day was long. He would have loved to kill him on his own, but he almost never killed without a contract. It was a small one, $10,000 plus the airfare to fly here, but the only reason Zoran accepted was because he really did want to kill the candidate. This was a kill he felt like he could justify in his mind. Over and over again he told himself that this was the right thing to do. The man was evil, corrupt, could and would do more evil than any crime-boss hoped to, and was 67 to top it all off meaning he probably was not going to change his ways in the last waning years of his life.

Still, however, Zoran felt it hard even so to convince himself to kill him. Old memories haunted him of people he had killed. People who had pleaded with him, but felt no mercy. It was all catching up to Zoran and he was trying to outrun it, justify himself by killing less or more corrupt people, but it was gaining on him. He didn't know what would happen when it caught him, but he didn't like to think of it. Underneath his hard, never changing exterior, his insides were churning.

Yet he wasn't going to turn back now that he was only feet from the man. As he readied his uzi, he looked around the top of the building. There were two security guards dead that he had killed, both of which were assigned to make sure no one used this position to assassinate the mayor. As the looked over the edge of the building at the mayor and small crowd of only a few hundred, he made note of four guards on the podium with him and an additional four on the fringes of the crowd, with possibly more undercover within the crowd. It shouldn't be too hard.

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily for the mayor, he wouldn't just get shot from afar. Zoran was one of the few assassins that got up close and personal. He had not used a sniper rifle in years and he used to get such a thrill from jumping into situations and killing everyone in sight. People loved his style and he made a lot of extra money off of this, sometimes clients even paying extra to have him deliver a message to the target before he killed them. No one knew how he survived all these encounters because no one was left alive to tell the story. There would be people left alive here, but as soon as the bullets started flying they would get out of there so quick, no one would probably even notice him take a few bullets and keep on walking.

Standing up, he walked diagonally to the edge of the building. He was going to run straight across as fast as he could lengthwise, then turn sharply at a right angle and run as fast as he could widthwise across the building. This would allow him to get almost to top speed since just widthwise wouldn't be enough. The jump would then carry him right onto the podium of the mayor where he would kill all the guards and then the mayor himself. Mission accomplished.

He started running. Accelerating far beyond the capabilities of Usain Bolt, he sped across the building, then turned sharply his feet becoming a blur as he went over 60 mph. As he approached the edge of the building he prepared his legs and then leapt far, far out into the sky.

Tampa Bay. Goddess, did she hate this city. All of the evil, the corrupt, made her sixth sense buzz like a hornet. So much hatred and bloodshed..

For what cost? Did anyone even know anymore?

Celtic lazily made her towards the crowd, expertly squeezing between thick bodies. No one noticed her. She chuckled at this as she approached the podium where the mayor was supposed to make his speech. Hooray. More corrupt policies. Suddenly, she felt a wave of the home-sickness in her heart. Portland, cold and rainy, and Vinny, her guardian.

It hurt to be so far away from her home, but she had insisted that she attend this speech. Celtic had an excellent gut feeling. She knew something was going to happen here, today. Not any specifics, but it would happen in this area. The icy metal of her combat knife was pressed snug against her abdomen.

Cel made sure to store her armor in a can down the alley behind the crowd just in case shit got real. Only fifteen, and already the girl was planning escape routes and searching for the best exits. But that was the sacrifice she had to make when becoming Kaia-Mai.

Patience... She pulled the hood of her ruby cloak over her head.

Any moment..any second.. The bloodshed was so close now.

Zoran launched off of the building an into the air. For a few seconds his feet flailed and then he landed with a large impact on the podium immediately doing a roll so that his knees wouldn't shatter. Standing up, he instantaneously pulled out his uzi and gunned down two guards with a few shots and then rolled just as the other two pulled out their guns and popped up with lightening fast speeds gunning down another guard before the last one opened fire. BAM! One. BAM! Two. BAM! Three. BAM! Four. Four gunshots to his upper chest area and the Serbian Assassin collapsed to the ground, arms flailing, gun falling out of his hand.

Then he layed there, perfectly still. The gunshots had almost no effect on him pain wise, but he knew they did their damage. He had to wait to heal. While the crowd screamed and evacuated he slowed his breathing and closed his eyes. Years of doing this and he had almost perfected the art of dying. In a way, he was close to death so it made it easier. Blood poured out of him as his body rapidly reacted and began healing the wound. His cells rapidly multiplied and the wound began to close up. However, this bad of a wound, four gun shots, would take a few minutes, around two maybe two and a half. Therefore, he had to take his time.

The other guard cautiously inspected his body meanwhile, determined he was just about dead and then stood up to signal his teamates. 55, 56, 57, 58, Zoran thought in his head. He had to get this right. Since he felt almost no pain he had to count the seconds to approximate when it would be fully healed. If he jumped up too soon, he would leave that same area vulnerable to more damage. If he came up too late it might waste precious time in his getaway.

After almost two minutes were up and the guards nearly reached his body, Zoran knew he could waste no more time. Jumping up in a kip he slammed his legs into the guard above him, kicking him far off the podium and then inhumanly fast grapped the mayor, he stood there petrified, kicked his legs out from under him and held his gun to his head. The other guards waited, a little stunned, but still holding their guns up. Now The Assassin was in a bad position. He could kill the mayor, but then he would be shot by the other guards and they might learn from their buddy's mistake and he thought he saw a suspicious looking hooded girl running for an alleyway...he needed to get out here, and fast.

The man falling from the sky should have caught everyone's attention, but of course, no one really gave damn to look upwards. How convenient for him. As soon as his figure hit the platform, Celtic turned and slipped past the crowd towards the alleyway. No way was he going to be able to get out of there alive. Not without help. Although she didn't sit quite right with strangers who fell from the sky, she wanted that mayor gone. The girl hoped those were the man's intentions; this city was corrupt enough.

Hastily pulling on her armor, Celtic remembered to grab her dual short swords and place her mask on. As she pulled her cloak over her armor, the teen exited the alleyway. Four shots rang out. One man hit the ground. It was the floater. Damn shame. It wouldn't hurt to just take matters into her own hands, right? The faded ruby cloak swam in the sea of terrorized citizens, sometimes emerging before diving deep once again. Two minutes passed before she as able to reach the podium unseen.

By then, sounds of another scuffle ensued and the screams of a helpless old man tore through the sky. Her head carefully lifted... Floater was up again? The only explanation for that was... Well, he had to be a meta.. Or some form of Jesus, but for the sake of her sanity, she assumed meta. More urgent matters had presented itself. Guards were scattered across the podium.

The man stood, hesitating as he chewed on his options. What options, she wasn't sure, but Celtic could guess that one of them was die. In absolute silence, she grabbed the ankle of a guard standing near the edge of the podium and yanked him off. He half-yelped, gun fumbling to the ground, and landed beside her. The Kaia-Mai unsheathed her short swords, making work of the guard. He lay dead.

Celtic jumped onto the podium, startling the guards momentarily. A perfect opportunity presented itself. Raising one palm towards the guards on the other side of the podium, a bright light exited her palms and exploded in front of the men, sending them across the street. Their injuries would most likely consist of broken bones and lacerations. But no deaths. Unfortunately.

One of the last remaining men thought he could catch her off guard. Her sensitive hearing picked up the scuffling of his shoes against the stage. People were just much too slow. Kaia-Mai sharply pulled her elbow backwards, catching him in the gut. Next, as the man cradled his stomach, she flowed around to stand behind him. One leg rose to the sky and crashed onto his back with sheer force. It hit a vertebrae, effectively fracturing it. As his hallow screams reached her ears, she thrust her short sword into the position where she knew one of his kidneys rested snug inside of him. You know, so he wouldn't get up.

The last remaining security guard stared in utter horror as Celtic cautiously pulled her sword from the man's body. Her mask tilted towards the last man. Instinct told him to run, but his feet remained glued to the floorboards of the stage. He shot once, but her agile body easily dodged the bullet. Another shot rung out and she dodged that one, too. The short sword hurled towards the man, went through his chest. Dead on impact. Like a leaf leaving its tree in Autumn, he fell, hitting the floor boards with an obnoxious THUMP!

Celtic retrieved her sword, sheathed it, and faced the man still holding the mayor.

Just as the master assassin had made his decision, someone else did as well. Someone in an armored suit armed with swords, quickly took one guard off the platform and sliced him up. The Serbian raised one eyebrow, but only for a second, as his impossibly stoic demeanor once again took capture and he watched the whole scene as if it were an interesting conversation.

The warrior, though he could tell it was a she by her build, was instantly on the podium and fired a powerful blast out of her hands that took out several guards and sent them flying far away. The Serbian made note of that. This warrior was dangerous indeed. Then she elbowed a guard who tried to wrestle her to the ground and appeared behind him rapidly, crushing his back with a powerful blow and then impaling him with her sword. A deadly, efficient, brutal warrior, Zoran thought to himself, an interesting story must lay behind the mask. The last guard, frightened out of his mind, fired two shots, but they were both dodge by the warrior. Unfortunately, that would be his last action as one of her swords came flying from her hands and into the guard. He lay dead. She walked over, retrieved the sword, and stood looking at him.

This was all very interesting for Zoran. Here he thought, if anything, a superhero would try to stop him. Of course, he still wasn't sure what the intentions were or who this person was. Where they a villain trying to recruit him? Some crazed avenger? A person that just loved a good fight? Right now there were too many possibilities and Zoran wasn't particularly fond of that. He did know he wasn't in the mood for another fight, especially one with the likes of this warrior in it. He didn't like to talk, but he would rather talk than fight at this moment. However, his prize did need disposed of, but by her attitude it didn't seem like she would care.

"I hope you don't mind," he said without inflection as he fired one shot into the mayoral candidate's neck and the man slumped down, dead. Then Zoran turned his attention fully to the warrior. He hoped she didn't expect anything of him. He didn't know what she could expect, but nonetheless..."So, what's your story?" he asked. It seemed like a simple question. He just wanted to see what drove this warrior to do what she did and hopefully get them on even terms so that they could leave without any fight marks. The Assassin also wanted to get out of there before the entire Tampa Bay police department showed up.

Her story? So many answers she could have provided. But there just wasn't time and they'd only just met. Celtic tilted her head to one side, listening carefully to the sound of sirens in the distance. From what she could hear, most of the cars were coming in from the west, while others split off to come in from the south. About four minutes and thirty seconds before they were completely surrounded. Plenty of time to answer his question, right?

"Fatty was corrupt, I didn't like him, you killed him, so now I'm helping you with an escape route." She began surveying the streets lay out. South and west exits were blocked; that left the east and the north. East had the risk of running into patrol units and just north of here she was staying at a hotel. Okay. Northeast. It didn't have any risks for her or for him.

"We'll have to head northeast, it's our best option. Cops are heading in from the south and the west, so we can't head that way. East has the potential of patrol units and I really don't feel like explaining why I'm running in armor with blood stains on my swords. Northeast is a bit vacant; plenty of empty houses. Police don't go there anymore, not like they used to."

The sirens were closer now, two minutes remained. Celtic gave the man a once-over. "That's my plan, you can follow or you can not follow. Your choice. But you've got two minutes and ten seconds before the cops get here, so.." She trailed off lamely, offered an unsympathetic shrug and headed northeast towards the houses, just like she said she would.

It seemed at least as if the girl knew what she was doing. Quickly, she surveyed the streets and deduced the best plan would be to go northeast. The route The Serbian Assassin had planned in advance to get out. This did not make him happy. Not that he really ever was. He had nothing against her, but he had something against it seeming like he was following her. He liked being in control and not the one following. However, he wasn't going to change his plans because he might be embarassed. "Alright, lets go," he said plainly and followed her.

He realized it was only a few minutes until the cops showed up, but he knew, at least for him that was enough time to get out. Since he could run as fast as a speeding car, he could quickly weave in and out of streets and then, inhumanly possible arrive in a safehouse he prepared or simply go undercover in crowds. No one would think someone on foot could make it a mile across the city in under a minute and so they were left with nothing. Zoran had done it countless times. The question was, could this girl?

He had observed some of her abilities already. She could fire powerful blasts out of her hands and was a very dangerous and skilled warrior with her swords. Also, she was very perceptive and aware of her environment. Was it enough though? He didn't see any superhuman speed in her so how could she escape like him, especially with all that armor?

Then it hit him and he slowly shook his head. Am I actually caring remotely about someone, he thought in shock to himself. What was with him lately? This was not professional in any way. If she couldn't keep up or if she wanted to go her own way, that was her problem. Zoran had his own route planned through the northeast and eventually out through the sewers. "I've got my own route," Zoran said, "you can follow me or not. Its undoubtedly the safest way out of this situation but if you live here or for some reason don't want to follow me, just say it." He hoped in a small way she would follow him. He hadn't had a conversation in a long time and with a small taste of it a few moments ago, even with someone as young as her, it was refreshing.

It would have been a lie if she said that when she turned her back on him, that she didn't expect him to shoot her right then and there. Actually, people who saw her display of energy bolts shooting from her hands usually led to an unwanted gun-fight. Celtic had the scars to prove it. But when the searing pain of bullets didn't arrive, she blinked in shock. Really?

Well, he was going to say something right? Ask her about the power- ask her if she practiced dark magic. Which she absolutely would never attempt despite her sensitivity to the paranormal. And all he spoke of was an option; she could follow his route. All was green, except for one tiny fact. The armor. Now, sprinting/running/jogging had never bothered her. The girl ran track as a hobby. With armor weighing her down, the cops would catch up to her. To him.

It was.. unselfish to offer, but he was risking to much. Her goal was to help him and she did just that. Celtic didn't want it to be all for nothing. "I, uh... Listen, I'll only slow you down. 'Sides, you don't want a kid like me around." Inwardly, she said goodbye to a potential person who didn't flinch at her abilities, that she maybe, possibly would have gotten along with.

"I, uh...Listen I'll only slow you down. 'Sides, you don't want a kid like me around." was all Zoran got in response from the armored girl. She seemed, surprised and visibly upset, at least to The Assassin's acute senses. Many people would perhaps feel pity or help her, the Assassin, however did not. The Serbian Assassin, so hard, and unmoving, yet in many ways sad. The man, molded with his hard lifestyle had no pity, no compassion, no emotion. This man who had spent most of his life removing himself from emotional side of things, which he took pride in, was really someone to feel bad for. He had no idea what compassion felt like. It was just him, his jobs, his money. In many ways, he was worse than any villain.

With this, the Assassin turned around without any pity or even anger, nothing. Zoran had tried to become as inhuman as possible. So he turned away, his hard life forcing him, absolutely not allowing him to turn around. He would not, could not feel any pity. Walking away, a feeling then hit him he had never felt before. She reminded him of himself. Stopping, his feet seeming to grind holes in the asphalt with the force of his turn, he turned and in a way finally turned away from his old way of life.

Speaking in his one-toned voice, he was grateful at least that stayed the same, he spoke a lie he tried to believe, "Wait. You're a loose end. I don't like loose ends. If the cops catch up with you, which they probably will you'll connect yourself to me. I can't let that happen." Then he kneeled, offering her his back to be carried on. "The only way we'll both get out of here is if you get on my back. I won't be slowed down much. Now get on, kid, time is short." He spoke firmly. Perhaps it was this girl's age. Something about her had finally broken him. It must have been her age. All he knew is that, in some remote place of his heart, he had just felt a glimmer of emotion.

Keen on watching him walk away, the Kaia-Mai remained standing in the street, feet firmly planted, hands curled into fists. Always had she been a tough soul; surly attitude and bitter tone. Friends were a difficult thing to come by being a meta and all, but she didn't expect nor ask for pity. That shard stuck in the her of social skills was firm, never once shifting. But Celtic had the shaman, who watched over her and her dove.

Nothing could really be expressed by words. Although they didn't reject her-her family- several barriers remained. Secrets locked in castles of stones and reoccurring nightmares.

Shoes scraped sharply against the asphalt. Celtic's head snapped towards the figure that had turned towards her. "Wait. You're a loose end. I don't like loose ends. If the cops catch up to you, which they probably will, you'll connect yourself to me. I can't let that happen." He then knelt- what was he doing? "The only way we'll both get out of here is if you get on my back. I won't be slowed down much. Now get on, kid, time is short." His logic was sound. She was a loose end; that was an angle she hadn't approached.

"You're right," she mumbled to herself. The teen approached the man, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder. 'You're a lose end; too much trouble for him," she thought. Celtic sighed. Her arms wound around his neck grip as she climbed onto his back. "You are one odd person. Ya' know that?"

"Honestly, I don't even know who I am today," Zoran said to himself as he lifted her up. He took her through city, zigging and zagging through various intersections. His body nearly flying along the ground as he went faster than most cars would on the roads he was running on. Zoran had an excellent memory, even after well over a century of life, and quickly traced the route he had planned before. Occasionally he heard sirens and had to slightly adjust his course so that he wouldn't be in sight of them, but it was not long before he was over a sewer opening.

Entering it, he climbed down and let the warrior climb off his back. Then, he turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers, Zoran said, "My task is done. I do not know where you are going are where you live. This is as far as I go with you. Good luck with whatever you do in your lifetime." He thought about doing something else for her, but there was nothing he could think of to do. He actually just wanted to get out of here as fast as possible and away from this girl that had changed him. He needed to be in an abandoned alley and where he would reconsider his life as it had changed now. Where was he going? He didn't know, but he hoped it would be better than where he had already been.

He took a step back and waited for her response, not showing any anxiety, but in his mind, needing to get away from her.

(OOC: So I'm thinking maybe one more post by you and then maybe one by me and then we're done here?)

Remaining quiet during their trip through the city, Celtic replayed the events that occurred. The jump, her involvement, the death of that corrupt bastard. It had been quite an interesting day, and she had enjoyed the fighting. But she got the sense that this... assassin, she supposed, didn't feel comfortable around her. Something was off- something had changed. She didn't pry though; it was not of her nature to outwardly care.

Yet, she did. Which probably screwed her over. Ugh.

When they reached the sewers, she immediately jumped off. Celtic's head snapped up at his words. So, he was keeping to his word? No loose ends? Oh. Her eyes wandered around her current location, taking everything in stride. What's the deal? Let's leave already! Her conscience hissed. Only one thing left to do, though.

She stepped forward as he took as step back. Reaching into one small pouch tied to her armor. Out of it the teen pulled a palm-sized device with a sun as a symbol on the case cover. It was a communicator, one she built herself. "If you're ever in Portland and you need routes," she waved the device. "Just give a ring, huh?" She took his hand, placed the device in it, then closed his fingers around the communicator.

The Kaia-Mai mumured no goodbyes, instead choosing to leave it at that. The quicker she left, the faster she could get on her flight back to Oregon. Briskly, she spun around and headed south. 'You really are odd,' her mind uttered and she wasn't sure to whom it was referring.

((Yeah, sounds good.))

Zoran watched as the girl shook his hand and gave him a device as she did. "Just give a ring, huh?" she said and so Zoran figured it out to be a communication device. That was interesting. No one ever had any sure way of communicating with him before, assuming of course that the device worked two ways, and so it made him slightly uncomfortable. His whole life almost had been lived undercover without anyone knowing where he was or how to contact him. In his line of work, this was essential. If someone knew where to get him or contact or him, he wouldn't have lasted long.

Yet he did not reject her gift and slid it into his pocket as well as giving a nod of understanding to her. Immedietly he saw her spin around and walk away without a goodbye, just the way he liked it. She seemed to walk away fairly briskly, and though he was not surprised, he did not know why. Was it because of him, or herself? Still, Zoran simply bored holes into her head as his eyes watched her leave, not because he really regretted it as his emotions had once again slid into a deep hole, but because of habit. He never turned his back on anybody if he could help it. Even so, when she was only a few yards away from him, he turned and walked down the opposite way. Yet another sign that Zoran, The Serbian Assassin, was beginning to change. All and all, he did not regret meeting her and knew that he would without hesitation call on her if he ever did need help in Portland.