Meanwhile in Hell....
Jazz turned a corner in the maze of an office building, her boots making barely a sound on the carpeted floor. She'd memorized the blueprints of the top few floors where she knew her mark would be. Thank gods too, since this place was all muted grey walls, charcoal carpeting, black tiled floors in the main areas, and ebony wooden doors. It was far too easy to get lost in here. Some of the art that was subtlety lit even looked like originals, not that that was what Jazz was after today.
Reaching the door that was her goal, she opened it and confidently strode in. She looked like the professional business person she was impersonating today. Simple, fitted, french blue cotton dress shirt, with a fitted, short-waisted black leather jacket over top, black, wide-legged dress pants, a thin black belt, and low-healed black boots completed the outfit. What the outfit was hiding was a lot more deadly, two guns, one in a shoulder holster, and one in the small of her back. She had little throwing blades in special pockets on the inside of her jacket, and a bigger knife at her left ankle. She even had an emergency blade tucked into her long black hair, that looked like a hair clip.
The door opened into an antechamber, just as she'd expected. There were two black leather Barcelona chairs and a coffee table on one side of the room warm yellow room, and a secretary's desk on the other, complete with secretary typing away. Jazz walked up to the secretary's desk, smiling at her, her hands behind her back. The woman, about 40, with short, curly brown hair stopped typing and smiled at jazz.
“Can I help--” She began to ask.
Jazzed raised her arm, her glock complete with silencer in her hand. She fired one round, hitting the secretary square in the forehead, silencing her forever. She lowered her gun and walked calmly to the inner office door. She opened it, and strode in, her long legs making for few strides. Her eyes flicked right and left, taking in the tacky cowboy decor, the fireplace complete with stuffed male Justice Demon hanging above it. His horns were polished and varnished until the shined like hellfire itself. The couch was covered in shadow demon skin that glittered grey in the firelight. There was a huge stone desk centred over large windows that looked down over the sprawling city of Tartarus. At that desk was her mark, a Chaos demon. He had greying hair, black skin, red, goat-slited eyes, and a pot belly that bespoke his 500 years of life, as well as his recent greediness. A stuffed head of a Justice Demon? No wonder they paid for this hit, she thought. The Chaos demon looked up from his work, a surprised look on his face. Before he could even utter a word Jazz raised her arm and fired into his head. She kept firing until her clip was empty.
The top of his head was missing, his brains were splattered all over his windows. Jazz put her gun away, shrugged out of her jacket, laying it on a chair near the door. She reached into her boot for her knife, stood behind the mostly dead demon and slit his throat to his spine. Blood gushed all over his desk, turning the parchment red, and dripping to the floor. She pushed his head forward and cut the other side. Bright red blood sprayed her shirt. She cursed. She'd liked that shirt. Oh well. Her pay would buy her more. Her knife still in her hand she grabbed his ears, twisted hard and pulled up, taking his head off. His body jerked, she tensed, ready for anything, but he just lay back in his chair. She tossed his head into a gold colander that was beside the Shadow demon couch. Jazz swivelled his chair around to face her. She thrust her knife deep into his gut, creating a hand-sized hole. Making a face, she plunged her hand inside him, searching for his hearts. She hated this part, but if she didn't get the hearts she couldn't be sure he was dead. And her clients had paid for very dead. Holding her breath, the fucker stank like 3 day old rotting fish, she cut the heart out, and pulled it free of his body.
With his still beating heart in her hand, and his blood all the way to her elbows she quickly walked to the fireplace and threw the heart in. She watched it sizzle and turn black. She walked back to the body, and stuck her hand in again, looking for the second heart. Gods damn chaos demon, she thought, digging around for his second heart. When she finally found the bone casing, she thrust her knife hand in and very carefully cut it out. She sat the bone-encased heart on the desk. It looked like a gooey, blood-soaked walnut. Using her knife, she hammered between the blades of bone, cracking it just like a nut. She scooped out the heart, and again walked to the fireplace, squeezing the slowly beating heart in hear hand. She looked down at the first heart, it was just a black, round lump now. She took the poker from the fireside tools, and whacked it until it was just ash. Then she squished the second heart between her hands. She made a face. Big, tough assassin, and she couldn't hack the gruesome part. It was just disgusting. Oh well, she thought, it pays, and the rest it fun. She threw the heart into the fire. It looked like a mashed tomato, but it burned all the same. She watched it sizzle and turn black, making sure it wasn't recoverable.
Jazz strode to the other side of the huge office where the bar was. Thankfully it had running water. She used the tiny sink to get most of the blood off her face and hands. She cut off her ruined blue shirt and threw it into the the garbage. Her shoulder holster would rub, but at least the blood on her black tank top wouldn't show. Nothing like the dead give away of leaving the scene still covered in your mark's blood. Though in Hell, walking around covered in blood wasn't the same panic-inducer it was above round, she thought as she picked up her leather jacket and strode out of the office.
What do you think???? Worth pursing?? Oddly lacking in feeling?? Fucked up? Just plain shite?