THE cigarette burned down to the end between Jonathan Miller's fingers. He flicked the butt into the ashtray beside the sofa, cracked his neck, and stood up. Silently, he entered his room, returning a few minutes later wearing clothes different from his pajamas and with breath tasting of mint.
There were two cell phones on the kitchen island of the apartment. One of them had a noticeable crack and some signs of use; the model was also old. When the screen was touched, the lock screen phrase read: Belonging to Tom.
It was his friend's phone, the friend who had been missing for three days. He had found the device at the crime scene behind the nightclub on the night Tom disappeared, and this had left Jonathan quite anxious. They had met five years ago at the orphanage, and he knew how shy and reserved his friend was. Tom liked solitude and if there had been any other option, he would never have agreed to go to the club that night.
It was Jonathan who insisted, and now that Tom was missing, he couldn't help but feel guilty. That's why he grabbed his own phone, locked the door, and left the building with the goal of reaching the police station.
The atmosphere at the police station was somewhat chaotic since the nightclub incident, which might be linked to a dangerous organization called Viper. Last week, the newspapers published an article about the arrest of Jackson J, who after hours of interrogation confessed to being what the organization calls a cleaner, whose role is to dispose of bodies left by assassins.
The news about the existence of an agency focused on killing people for a hefty sum exploded on the internet, and capturing the leader of this organization could be like a passport to success for the police officers who had suffered a drop in popularity after a corruption case.
None of the officers noticed Jonathan's presence. He tried to speak to some but was subtly ignored. Desolate, the young man sat on one of the plastic benches, deciding to wait for the police commotion to calm down before lunchtime.
"Good morning, what is your report?" A policewoman wearing glasses approached, and her badge gleamed with the name Emily H.
Jonathan looked at her and stood up quickly. Taken by excitement, he said:
"My friend. It's been almost three days since he disappeared."
With a notepad in hand, Emily made a brief note. Her blue eyes behind the transparent lenses of her round-frame glasses stared at Jonathan.
"What is the name of the missing person?"
"Thomas Davis."
THE assassin wasn't by his side when Maxin woke up. Rising with difficulty, his sleepy eyes found the figure sitting in the chair; slowly, he was beginning to get used to this scene.
"You took a while to wake up." Her voice reached him.
"And your injuries?" Maxin asked hoarsely.
"They're fine, I took some anti-inflammatories. I'm going to take off the wrist restraints so you can eat. No funny business."
"Hmm..."
She got up like a tiger stalking her prey, and Maxin swallowed hard as he recalled the previous night, which seemed like nothing more than a dream or delirium.
She took a serrated knife and slipped it between the plastic wires, cutting them. His wrists were free, and blood circulated freely. The woman stepped back, and Maxin got out of bed.
His feet touched the cold floor, and a shiver ran up his spine. He went to the table and sat in the chair facing the assassin. Her plate had toast with red jelly and a cup of black coffee. From the available food, Maxin also took toast with jelly, an apple, a piece of cake, and a glass of orange juice. His stomach growled, and he ate the meal under the woman's watchful gaze.
"You better eat a lot. You're as thin as a twig." Nox said, and the boy with jelly at the corner of his mouth nearly choked on his food. "Be careful and don't take too long to eat. We'll be leaving soon."
"Leaving? Where to?" Maxin asked anxiously with his mouth full of toast.
"Eat with your mouth closed." She cut him off, and he nodded, chewing with his lips shut.
When they finished eating, Maxin went to the bathroom to shower, and Nox went to the reception to pay the bill. Through the glass wall, she spotted two suspicious men inside a car; one had binoculars, and the other was on the phone. She quickly paid and returned.
She found Maxin wearing the clothes she had sent to the laundromat when he woke up half an hour after sunrise. The pants fit his skinny body perfectly, and his chest wore the shirt she had sent. His bangs were messy, and his eyes had the strong power to make an assassin's heart itch. She cleared her throat:
"Shall we go?"
"Yes."
Inside the car, the woman managed to drive even with her sutured arm, and Maxin found himself admiring her for that, because in the bathroom, when he saw the marks on her wrists, he nearly cried from the pain he felt just touching them briefly, while the woman, who had a swollen face and part of her arm sewn, didn't seem to feel anything. She was strong, fearless, and ruthless—the kind he had never met in his life.
"Why are we here?" He sighed as the car stopped in front of a two-story building.
"I saw two suspicious guys, so we'll wait inside here for a moment."
Maxin let out a low sigh and nodded, getting out of the car. He waited for Nox, and the two entered a place that turned out to be a small mall with moderate foot traffic. Nox's hand grabbed Maxin's and then let go. When the nervous boy looked at his palm, a black mask had been placed there.
"Use this." She murmured, and Maxin obeyed.
Inside the air-conditioned space with cheerful people visiting the building inaugurated less than a month ago, Nox and Maxin did not match the calm and comfortable aesthetic of the place. They looked like they had stepped out of some gothic music video, with their black clothes and oppressive aura around them. Nox still wore the cap, and only her black eyes were visible, while Maxin had his bangs almost covering his eyes. Both attracted glances, and the two men Nox had seen at the inn's entrance also watched them.
"Here, come in." She pushed him toward a door.
"A clothing store? What are we doing here?" Maxinwas impressive! Some things he understood perfectly, while others he seemed unwilling to try to understand.
"What do you think people do in a clothing store?" The woman retorted. "You only have one pair of pants, don't you feel uncomfortable wearing the same clothes for three days?" He fell silent.
A young woman appeared to assist them. Wearing a red uniform and a presentable face, she had a persuasive voice as she addressed Maxin.
"So, what would you like?"
"Take him to pick out some comfortable clothes." Nox called to her. "Go with her, dear."
"And you? Where are you going?" He asked quickly, trying to stay calm after the unexpected nickname.
"I have something to take care of. I'll be back in thirty minutes." She programmed the watch on her wrist. "Behave yourself, dear..." She whispered in his ear, and Maxin was careful pushing her shoulders.
The woman turned and left the store.
"Sir, please follow me."
Nox left the store, thinking about how to shake off their pursuers.