Chapter 2: Stalker

I, as a professional assassin, have a schedule I follow every day. Sometimes I don't need clients to ask me to kill some fucker, I just need Blyke's computer skills, he can find me either a worthy client or a disgusting criminal. I don't have a special day to kill someone, cause that would make it for the police a little bit easier to find me.

 On Mondays, I check on all of my undone missions and check the clients' files. Tuesdays, workout time like jogging, fighting, going to the gym. Wednesdays, I read a delightful book to keep me in check, relaxed, far from losing my mind, I just read a book and chill.

On Thursdays I like to do my missions but it's not the special day to send someone to hell, because as I said before that would make it for the police a little bit easier to uncover me. Fridays, I go to a shooting range and let out all the emotions bottled up inside me and keep shooting the target for hours.

Saturdays, even for an assassin like me, best day of the week, I get to eat snacks and sugary stuff, the only day I am allowed to do that, to keep myself in good shape, and I always get a cupcake from that cake shop right across the street, it has the most delicious cakes you could ever taste in your entire life, just passing by, I feel the drool falling down my lips.

Sundays, I answer all calls from the new or old clients and watch my favorite series, especially crime documentaries, wonder why.

Well, good for me, today is Saturday, those tasty snacks are mine.

I take my normal human stuff and get out of my apartment, I walk through the corridor, light brightening through the glass all the way to the end of the hallway.

Here is it, that mouth-watering smell, my taste buds are eagerly waiting for that cupcake to finally enter my mouth after a week of waiting.

"Hello, how are you today"

"Hi there Sariel, your usual?"

I smile, "Yes please, with extra cream on top, I've been waiting for this day since I came here last week."

She laughs, her eyes bright, she seems to have a good life, I like that girl, I really hope she is living a good life.

"Extra whipped cream for our special client!" she lets the chef knows.

I took my special cupcake and went to eat it in my special place. Everything about this day is special.

My eyes locked on my precious food, I suddenly found myself bumping into a muscular figure. But what I was worried about the most was my cupcake, my poor delicious cupcake, was half on the ground, and half on that person's black shirt.

"No! You fucking jerk, my whipped cream, my cupcake, can't you see I'm busy admiring this well now destroyed cupcake?" I belted at his face.

He waited a few seconds then spoke, "You know my iced coffee fell on my shoes too, right?"

"What do I care? Are you comparing an appetizing cupcake with this unpalatable coffee?" I grunted agitatedly.

"Please don't offend my iced coffee." He claimed, "Even though my coffee went to waste I can gladly repay you for your delicious cake" He was talking calmly when my blood was boiling in anger, plus he hinted the word 'delicious' to sound like he was mocking me.

I recollect myself before I make a crime in the wrong place.

"You motherfucker, listen, I don't need your freaking money, and it's not about the money, it's that this cake is going to trash where it surely doesn't belong, just because it got wasted on a low-quality shirt" I hissed.

"You sure talk a lot, and just so you know this shirt probably cost more than your yearly salary." He sighed, "Well if you don't need anything from me then I'm off, to get another iced coffee." He walked past me and disappeared into the crowd. That fucker ruined my day. Change of plans, I'm going to get a new cupcake, then head to the shooting range.

As you would have guessed already, I have uncontrollable anger issues, so my only place is either a book or a gun, but right now, I might need a rifle.

After finishing eating, I mount my matte black Ducati Panigale V4 bike, it is one of the fastest motorcycles in the world, its top speed is 200 mph, I love this bike more than my life, not more than my swords or guns but it has its value for me. I start the engine and flew between the cars at a legal speed, the air went through my hair and left it wiggling mid-air, I was wearing my one-piece black leather suit and a thick safety helmet.

Once I arrived, I parked in my reserved parking spot, and entered the building, the smell of sweat and hard work started lingering around the room.

I took my spot on the shooting range, put on my safety glasses, eyes on the target, safety mode off, both hands holding the gun, one finger on the trigger, then Boom, gunfire echoed ten times after I pulled the trigger.

 All of my bullets when to the middle, I never miss the center, even when the target starts moving up and down, left and right.

I got straight Xs -the shooting target is marked in the middle as an X- but for the first time, I noticed someone at the same level as I am, he had the shooting technique, the posture, he had it all. Who is this person and why have I never seen them here. Our eyes met, as if  they were wondering the same thing about me, then I realized that this talent is not so perfect anymore. It was the iced coffee guy, who ruined my day.

I took off my glasses as if I can't see well, "You got to be kidding me!"   I snapped.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here, Miss cupcake" he declared as he stepped towards me.

I adjust my posture, cross my arms across my chest in a bossy way.

"So you following me now? I imply.

"You're funny. No cupcake, I always come here." He implied back.

"Don't call me cupcake, stalker, and I do always come here too, and never saw you, what do you have to say to defend yourself now?"

"Does it look like I am defending myself? Whatever, I come here every Saturday, and I never saw you here, you know I would have detected a professional shooter like myself." He accused.

"Well, I come here every Friday, guess that's good so I can never see you, unfortunately, today I stumbled into some stupid guy and my cupcake went to waste, so I decided to let off some steam, you know cause he ruined my day."

"Sorry, I dozed out after  said you come here every friday, what were you saying?"

"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood, jerk ass."

"Well okay, but I am sure you are not as good at everything as you are at shooting." He Challenged.

I tilt my head, "Are you sure you want to go down that way coffee guy?"

"What? Are you afraid I am right? You may be good at shooting but I am sure I can beat you at anything else." He leaned on the thick glass that separates every person while shooting.

"Sure, we'll go down that road, we'll have a competition of 5 rounds, First round is a draw, the next round I choose," I suggested.

"Okay, deal, I choose the next, but on one condition, the loser gets to do whatever the winner tells him to do."

"Fine, let's see what you got."

"So what do you want to do for the first round?"

"Knife-throwing." I chuckled.

I didn't bother saying anything else as I strode to the weapons rack and gathered a belt strapped with throwing knives.

I took up a place near the archery targets, he joined me a moment later, I drew a dagger from the belt, my focus narrowed to the small, black dot in the center of the target. I steadied my breathing as I cocked my arm, letting my wrist go loose. The sounds of the crowded place faded. The blackness of the bull's-eye beckoned, and as I exhaled, I sent the dagger flying.

It sparkled, a shooting star of steel. I smiled grimly as it struck home. Beside me, he was impressed by my skills.

"Show me what you got stalker."

He took his position, focused on the target and, threw his dagger to hit the bull's-eye on the inner circle.

"That was good" I pushed him gently "But not good enough"

I drew another dagger, and I threw it, the blade clanged as it laded a hair's breadth from the one I'd already embedded in the bull's-eye.

As we kept going I kept getting a full score, while he each time got closer to the center.

"Well played," he said accepting his loss, "You've got impressive aim"

"For a girl?" I challenged.

"No," he said, "For anyone."

I smirked, knowing damn well, he could never beat me.

We got inside as he proposed weight-lifting for our next round.