Not A Small-Town Girl

A bloodthirsty smile crept across Danielle’s face as she contemplated her next move.

Howard and Vivian, sensing the danger of the moment, knew better than to get in her way. They urged, "Danielle, be careful. Stay safe."

The mask-wearers stood motionless like statues, their ironclad bodies unwavering, slowly advancing toward her.

Bullets and knives had done nothing to faze them; even the acupuncture and poisons only immobilized them for mere seconds.

With lightning speed, Danielle closed the distance, landing a punch straight to the head of one of the mask-wearers. To her shock, the blow had no effect. The helmeted head didn’t even budge.

Her heart skipped a beat. ’The head wasn’t the weak spot?’

Gracefully as ever, Danielle danced through the group of mask-wearers, trying to find a chink in their armor.

She pulled out her gun and fired—bang, bang, bang—shooting at the head, the neck. No effect.

Her mind raced as she assessed the situation. These mask-wearers weren’t even human. They seemed to be some hybrid, neither alive nor dead, just maintaining the appearance of life. But surely, there had to be a weakness somewhere.

*****

a group of assassins gathered in

brought a handful of bodyguards. We haven’t seen him yet.

men, perched with binoculars,

onto him, we’ll act. Don’t underestimate those bodyguards. They’re not ordinary. Whoever has tried to take David’s head has

their final job. If they succeeded, they’d never have

rise in stature. Our

The boss is brilliant. He’s taken on multiple contracts to take out David. We kill two birds

expect David’s life to be so valuable. Guess I’ve been

that many want him dead. All we need to know is

eagerly, almost as if killing David were a casual

shown up by then, we’ll scout the terrain. We need to be meticulous." The boss wiped his gun, his

"Got it, boss."

*****