TO KILL IS TO SERVE

Chapter 8: The Coin

The first thing that greeted me this morning was a stone wrapped in a paper, heading towards me with a speed of approximately 5 meters per second. I raised my hand, planning to catch the thing but ended up avoiding it by tilting my head. I’ve had a lot already that I cannot even argue with my f*****g brain. I sighed while looking at the classroom’s backdoor, waiting for Alora.

“You even saw that coming?” One of my classmates exclaimed and the rest booed him. “What a pair of fast eyes. Too bad you’re late and you didn’t see how fast your seatmate, Alora, got slapped this morning!” He added and everyone laughed. I think he’s that Leon, one of this room’s gangster-wannabe.

I sighed and picked the stones under my chair. They’ve been pissing me off since I entered the room. Some even said that I’m being too clingy towards Alora and that I am a bore. Keep your cool, Reisun. I reminded myself as I yawn. It’s the start of my second week of work and I cannot let myself kill random annoying art students.

“Try to catch this one, you piece of–” And I caught the flying scissor right in front of my face before the guy could finish what he’s saying. Everyone kept their mouth shut and I slammed the scissor down.

“Please stop playing with me. I had a lot this weekend.” I uttered and stood up after managing to keep myself cool. No one’s moving an inch. No one dares to even do anything. They suddenly turned into a pack of coward wolves after seeing a real monster almost eating one in their kind. I rolled my eyes and headed out of the room. “I really had a lot last night.” I murmured with both hands on my pocket until I reached the window side.

My work phone vibrated while I was watching the kids outside having their breaks. I really shouldn’t have come. I sighed and picked up the call. “Yeah?”

“Sorry. I know you’re out working right now. But I just want to confirm since boss is getting all the organization members who will attend. Are you going to the tribute later?”

I heaved a deeper sigh. “Yeah,” and answered under my breath. A f*****g joke through a tribute now, huh? What is this THD’s boss doing now? I cursed with my mouth sealed close.

“Okay. I have given you the time and I assume you’re aware of the place already. Wear something formal. Almost everyone’s going to be there, as per boss’ request.”

And the call beeped the end tone.

Why would I even go there? Assassins don’t have hearts. Assassins don’t even mourn when they kill. How hypocrites are we to hold a tribute for our fallen colleagues? We’re almost no different from murderers. Murderers kill, and we do as well; the difference is that we get paid and we’re free to live our lives, while they don’t. Who’re the real monsters, then? I wonder if God favour real monsters more, for we have been in this industry for decades, alive and kicking.

“Friendless,” Someone behind called. Alora. “What are you doing out here?” Her face is still red and her shirt is too crumpled. She looked exhausted this early in the morning like she went to a joint-assassin mission yesterday.

“Why, I was just watching people.” I turned to her and changed my whole annoyed face to a charming one. “What took you so long in the comfort room, though? Did you have number 2—”

“No.” Alora pushed me to stop me from talking. “I was just—”

“What, watching other ladies pee?”

“Shut up, Grei.” She rolled her eyes and stood beside me. “I’m actually really tired. I want to go home for today.”

Are we going on fast pace, now? She talked to me first, asked me first and suggested something first. I am actually making a lot of progress but my f*****g self is not into this right now.

“Yeah, me too. Those guys are just getting aggressive. They even threw a scissor earlier.”

“You deserve it.”

“That’s mean.” I groaned and held my chin. “Good thing Viel is somewhat blind. He can’t even hit me.” I lied and she laughed. I don’t know who Viel is; I just invented a name because I know even she can’t and won’t recall our classmates’ names.

“What a poor accuracy. You should’ve gotten uglier by now.”

“I agree on the poor accuracy part and forgive the latter.” I replied and she grinned at me. “Why don’t we go home?” I suggested back.

“Let’s go home, Grei.” She replied with a gloomy voice and a bored expression.

Miss Cherrie is not even here. We just ditched our bags and went out of the facility without anyone knowing. Both our wallets and phones are inside our pockets, so we don’t really care about our bags anymore. I don’t have anything on my bag but a pencil, too.

“Say, Alora, how was the painting?”

“Hmm?” She looked at me while swaying her hands back and forth. “Painting?” She asked, furrowing her brows.

I sighed and rolled my eyes as I accept the fact that she doesn’t have a plan to paint something for me. And here I thought I could at least dissect her ways of using colours. I could learn a lot about her psychological state by that. “I told you to paint me something last Friday, didn’t I?” I replied and she tilted her head. “Okay, never mind. I already know that you won’t give a thought about my request.” I mumbled and pouted jokingly.

Even after an exhausting night yesterday, I can still act this chummy and cute—I deserve a f*****g award.

“Wait, why are you talking to me casually like we’re friends?” She really didn’t give a f**k about the painting. And she’s seriously into this friend-s**t.

“I see, forgive me—”

“Are you going home now, though?” She suddenly butted in.

I checked the time through my phone and pursed my lips. I need to at least have four hours to prepare. I thought as I watch Alora enjoys her ‘I just cut class’ walk. “Sorry, I have somewhere to—”

“Don’t apologize for unnecessary things.” She rolled her eyes like an ice queen. She’s been cutting me off a lot and my f*****g Reisun self is slipping out. “I’ll head to the mall to play arcade.” My rude target added while smiling from ear-to-ear.

“How will you go home, then?” I raised my brows. And what is with this arcade? She sounded as if she’s lonely when she’s a murderer. I kept my brows up and my forehead neat, to avoid showing any trace of disgust out of probably, false accusation. “I’ll go with you to the mall and leave right after.”

She glared at me. “I can handle myself,” and protested.

“No or else you’re going home.” I replied and she heaved an annoyed sigh. You cannot be killed without me knowing everything first. I thought.

“Fine, I can’t go home because my old man’s home. He shouldn’t catch me cutting my art class or else he’ll shoot me in the hea—” And she quickly covered her mouth in realization that she’s actually making a bold joke.

I know already. I chuckled a bit at my thought. “I’ve seen his gun, don’t worry. I believe he needs it for self-protection.” Self-protection my ass. Of course he doesn’t need gun to protect himself. He looked packed and well-trained. Maybe he’s some high-ranker like a general? Or is it too much for me to assume? “But don’t joke about guns like that.”

“Ah, yeah.” She stuttered and smiled awkwardly. This girl couldn’t be an agent or a spy for her unavoidable transparency.

If I can’t kill her, I could just make her my appre—okay, for whom am I joking? Of course I need to assassinate her or I will kill my client. Either way, I’m still going to kill someone. So, why not go for a kill with money? Sometimes, I am already lost in whether I check my pride and dignity first or my wallet and bills. Even assassins have lives to live, too. We also need to strive hard to live. And kill people to bring food on our tables.

“Hey, you’re looking at me like you’re contemplating to kill me.”

“What the heck?” I just told her not to joke about guns, and now she’s saying things about killing. And she combined killing and me, together, in a f*****g sentence. I prevented myself to grin as I think of something unnecessary, again.

“Grei!” Alora laughed. If my guard were down, I’ve already confessed my sin of seven years of living.

“Why do I need to contemplate about it? Of course I wi—”

“You won’t kill an artist.” How could she be that confident when it comes to me killing? And her, being an artist? “This world is big and has billions of… you know, colourless and bland people. And only artists like myself, can paint this empty world, duh.” She teasingly rolled her eyes and laughed. Oh, she’s confident about herself not me killing her. Fair enough for someone this careless.

I stopped walking for a bit and looked ahead, to the world where she said only artists can paint. If artists don’t exist, will there be coloured houses? Doodled walls? Printed t-shirts? Alora paused alongside me and looked up at me. “Can you repaint a black canvas, Alora?” I asked mindlessly and turned to her. “You know, repaint it with more vibrant colours? Is that possible for an artist such as yourself?” Who am I kidding, myself? Why am I asking her this for, my f*****g killer self? I closed my wait as I wait for her answer.

Alora smiled and nodded. “Depending on how much my client could give. But I know that I can definitely turn a black canvas to a 3D art!” She boasted while swaying her hair and continued walking ahead of me.

I chuckled and exhaled a sigh of relief I have no idea where’d I get. Could you repaint my life, then? How about change my color palette and make my black canvas vibrant? I suddenly thought while watching her. “What a bag of hope I had for a minute.” I whispered to myself then inserted my hands on my pocket and followed her silly little steps. Alora titled her head a bit to glance at me, asking me with her genuine artistic stares. “Let’s go and I’ll take you to the mall.”

She has been showing me both sides of herself now. I am excited of when can I read the complete story of her, killing a friend with those delicate hands.

It took me an hour before I could completely leave Alora alone. She’s been pushing me to go already but I cannot just leave her—I was also wondering why. But maybe this is my predatory attitude. She is my prey. I kept on chanting inside my head.

“Thanks, Grei.”

“Text me when you’re about to go home and when you got home.”

“Okay! I’ll spend at least 500!”

“Go on. Play, eat and enjoy, Alora.” I walked out of the mall after bidding good bye. My work phone vibrated as soon as I got out and I had no choice but to pick up the call. Info might track my location if I ignore him. And that I cannot give away.

“You still coming?” He asked right after I received the call.

“Of course.”

“Okay, I just checked. See you there, Reisun.”

I don’t want to f*****g go, but then again, I am obligated to. Moreover, I was with them yesterday, so I really need to show up. “What a pain.” I sighed and hopped into a bus. I need four hours to prepare and I hate the fact that instead of resting, I would do bunch of preparations before I head to the tribute.

I got to my current condo and showered after removing all my disguise stuffs, and then changed into my indoor clothes. I checked the time and I still have seven hours before the clock hits 9PM. “Plenty. I need to eat first.” I mumbled as I refer to time and started cooking my own food.

Depressingly, I stared at my noodles with too much chilli sauce. “It looks like goddamn spaghetti now.” I sighed and placed my elbow on the table, waiting for my food to cool down. “It’s pretty lonely without anyone to talk to.” Maybe I’ve gotten used to days packed with people. Last week, I was in the art class and last Friday, I went to Alora’s. I was with the assassins on a mission last weekend and earlier today, my target’s bugging me. “I think being alone now sucks.” I uttered, helplessly talking to myself, and began munching.

5PM sharp, I changed place from my condo to my hideout while wearing no other disguise but just hoodie and mask, and got 4 more hours to finish preparing myself. I stretched my body and felt the nauseous feeling that this old place of mine always gives off—the stench of my used knives, the disorganized guns and bullets, the reeking smell of blood and the consumed cup noodles.

“What a home.” I chuckled as I remove my jacket and changed into my formal attire: a white polo, black tie and a tuxedo of navy blue. I also wore my black shoes and waxed my hair. Dad will kill me if I show up with a hair of a beggar since the cover story for tonight was a masquerade ball—if he can, I may add. I applied a foundation a bit lighter than my skin tone on my face and drew letters AG on right side of my forehead, as a symbol of belonging in the rank of Agents. I put my fancy mask on first and fixed my bag—with my gun, spare bullets, knives, wallet, fake IDs and original mask inside. I was removing all the unnecessary things inside when a bottle caught my eye—the bottle of truth serum plus poison I asked Manchineel to make for me, two months ago. What a memory. I smirked under my mask.

I departed from my place at around 7:30PM, bringing all the necessities and headed to the place through the underground train station. This is actually a longer path to take but there will be lesser people. I checked my watch and breathed in for it took me 30 minutes of walk to get here. Around 8:30, I would probably be outside of the Assassin’s Asylum already. I thought because I cannot afford to be heard.

I wonder how everything will work out tonight. f**k. I was just enjoying my time with Alora earlier. f**k again. My life today is seriously like a coin—two-f*****g-sided