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

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

perched with binoculars, scanned the

They’re not ordinary. Whoever has tried to take

This was their final job. If they

David’s head, we’ll rise in stature. Our

multiple contracts to take out

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

cake, so it’s not surprising that many want him dead. All we need to

spoke eagerly, almost as if killing David were a

then, we’ll scout the terrain. We need to be meticulous." The

"Got it, boss."

*****