Perked Up For Death.

Heathrow Airport, London.

"Master Alex?"

An old man in a butler outfit greeted him as soon as he left the airport area.

"David. Do you have my equipment?"

He recognized the butler. David, one of his father's most trusted people.

The butler was in absolute shock. But he was here on official business, so he couldn't afford to lose composure.

"Everything you ordered."

He pointed towards the van parked a few paces away from them.

"Keys?"

Alex asked.

"Shall I drive you there?"

He exercised common courtesy.

"You don't need to. I am not your young master anymore."

A curt reply. Alex wanted to get on with his mission as soon as possible. The butler would waste his time on idle chit-chat aimed with the intention of extracting information from him.

"Very well, sir."

He handed him the keys. Alex put them in his pocket.

"A regular one, and a copy. Here. Take my card. If you are in trouble, you can contact me on this number."

Alex took the card and said,

"Thanks for your help. You can leave now."

Cold.

"I wish you a safe journey, sir."

David said as Alex walked towards the Van. His original mission was bust, and there was no plan B. All he could do was wish him well.

The boy didn't turn around. He got into the van, and drove away without sparing him a glance.

"Let them know that I am not coming back to the family."

Being hostile was necessary.

London. The heart of Great Britain.

As Marlos, Alex had only visited this around 2 times on practice missions. However, the previous owner of this body was a well travelled kid. His memories were not perfect, but he could sense that he had visited many places on his way towards the destination.

An hour passed. He started to feel dizzy.

This body wasn't used to driving. He decided to take a break and parked the Van by the side.

The white colored ford Transit was one of the most common vehicles in the city. The number plate was untraceable. He was as invisible as he could be.

Food, water, guns, ammunition, radio assisted trackers, transmitters for emergency contact, a wireless internet modem connected to the official Collective Servers, his custom made bodysuits, Clothes for everyday use and around £200000 . Also, the file on his client.

"System, my laptop."

The laptop appeared in his hands. He connected to the database, and started filtering through the it to map out all of his potential targets.

"Retainers for the Serbian Mafia."

Around 300 known retainers. 200 retainers with some sort of prior history with the gang.

500 potential enemies.

The database took the facial imprints of the retainers and started to scan through the camera footage in a 14 mile radius of his client's location.

70 matches found.

The screen displayed files for around 70 retainers, which displayed the collection of video footage found and some still shots with clearer details.

'Defined area search and location mapping.'

DASLM for short.

An algorithm created by Steven. This could help him map the area according to the location and sighting of each retainer. A 43 paged line of code.

20 minutes later, small dots started to pop up on the screen.

"Done."

The predicted location of all the retainers found around the area.

He took a power bar from one of the bags and ate around half of it in a bite.

"They are probably waiting for orders. If I kill them now, I risk the chance of exposing the collective interference in this matter."

If the opposition had 70 assassins on standby at the very epicenter, they were aiming for an overkill.

"I'll have to get to her in stealth."

He would leave the van at a collective assigned safehouse. He had freed up his system space before coming here. Now, he was going to smuggle the necessary equipment with the help of it.

"System, take everything in."

2 bodysuits. 1 HK 45 compact tactical. 2 custom Glock 19's with a higher caliber, 1 HK UMP, A standard issue military knife, transmitters and trackers. This was going into the system space along with his laptop. He had taken an image of the map with his phone just in case.

Slowly, he started to shuffle all the ammunition into one of the suitcases. After arranging them in various compartments, he was able to put all of his ammunition into it.

"Done."

He made his way to the safehouse, handed the van to the caretaker, and left as soon as possible.

With the map in his mind, he blended into the crowd as a normal resident. Along with his suitcase, he took a cab to get as close to the destination. After leaving the cab, he made the rest of his journey on foot.

Around an hour later, he was at his destination.

The client was at an hotel. It was a luxurious place, but security was almost non-existent.

"Does she want to die?"

He was still in hiding. He picked up the phone and called the client.

3 rings, and someone picked up.

"On which floor are you?"

An enchanting voice answered.

"6th floor."

The call ended.

"Is he here already?"

15 minutes later.

"I don't believe this."

She was at the spa right now.

With a green face mask, a towel tied to her head, and a bathrobe. There was an attendant clipping her toenails.

He walked up to the attendant and quickly pressed a pressure point on her neck. She fell unconscious.

"Miss Laura Bell."

Alex was livid. This was his mission, and his client was dead set on forfeiting her life.

The lady opened her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

He asked coldly.

She gave him a radiant smile and said,

"Getting myself perked up for death."