The fleeting glow of Alex Mercer's cigarette crumbled to ash when she rose, maintaining a vigilant gaze from across the street as Henry Shen stepped out from his doorway with his briefcase, firmly locking the door behind him. He seemed oblivious to her shadow cast by the streetlights. She noticed the golden glint of the chain swinging around his neck. Titanium from his occipital interface circled his orbital bones like metallic eyeliner.

Alex followed Shen through San Francisco’s Chinatown night market, passing vendors selling cheap imitation sneakers and jackets, the trendiest synthskin coatings, and a lavish suit store. The savory scent of steamed dumplings hung in the air. In front of a twisted, blooming cherry blossom tree, the pink petals scattered across the damp ground, trampled into smears by unaware pedestrians. Shen stopped in the marketplace center. Alex paused, hiding near a vendor selling opulent knock-off purses. Just get on with it already. Her restless hand instinctively slid down to her holster. Quit prolongin’ the inevitable. Shen casually glanced down at his watch, then turned left into the sea of pedestrians.

Pushing her way through the fleshy tides, she caught a glimpse of Shen disappearing further into the crowd. Her nose twitched as it caught a whiff of soy sauce, a brackish aroma that made her stomach howl. She thought about gorging herself, but losing him would leave her with one pissed-off Woozie… and a visit from Mr. Sun. Fuck that idea.

She watched as Shen’s head swiveled, eyes scanning the surrounding faces, and dipped into an alleyway behind the Lemon Grass restaurant. Its grimy yellow neon letters flickered as Alex lurked close behind the wall, bathed in shadows, watching. He knocked three times, and the back door flung open. When the door slammed shut, she scurried over and pressed her ear to the door. The noise was a mixture of muffled shouts, cheerful laughter, and chairs scraping across the floor. Her eye darted around the alleyway, and she found a fire escape that led up onto the roof, giving her the perfect vantage point.

As she climbed up the creaking rungs, Alex rubbed the corroded flakes off her hands when she reached the roof. In the middle was a pyramid-shaped skylight with a window conveniently propped open. The voices became clearer. The night concealed her every step as she snuck over to watch them from above like an ominous raven. Cloaked in the night’s sable embrace, she counted a pack of several triads down below in the kitchen.

Four triads sat around a mahjong table in the middle of what appeared to be a tense game. Two others stood near the back door, doing a damn fine job of guarding the place. Off in the corner, muffled by hissing freezers, Woozie was pulled away, engaged in a hushed conversation with another triad. Looking down at her prey, Alex smirked. There you are, Shen. I’ve only seen you from a distance, but you look like a jackass up close. Her eyes noted his attire. He wore a gaudy old-school purple pinstripe suit with a flimsy gold chain dangling above his chest, shaped like an S. What a jackass!

Shen conversed in Chinese with a bald man with a dour expression and wore a stained beater with orange track pants. Sallow skin was replaced by coral-colored synthskin at the knuckle. To top it all off, a black dragon spiraled around his throat. His eyes honed onto the briefcase. He ushered Shen along and yelled at the four playing mahjong to move. One of them mumbled something that Alex couldn’t understand and was promptly silenced with a swift smack to the head. The boss patted the table eagerly. Shen placed the briefcase down.

Alex’s nose flared, eyes fixated on her prey, tremoring with anticipation. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she stalked from the shadows. This is my favorite part. Watching them. They always think they're safe. Then someone like me crashes the party. All those grins gone in seconds. She could never explain the feeling, this fervorous excitement. It was as if something else controlled her senses when she accepted a contract. Something primal and animalistic. But sometimes an intrusive thought entered her mind. Why am I like this? She shook the thought away. Not now. Need to focus on the job. In her line of work, hesitation meant meeting

Everyone huddled around the boss as he pulled a key from his pocket and turned the lock. Neatly stacked green towers sprang up. The boss buried his greedy hands into the stolen money. What kinda asshole steals from honest, hardworkin’ sex workers who barely speak English? For a few nights, Alex observed the brothels Woozie owned from afar, noting how he conducted business. They're just trynna make a living to survive in this world. For some of them, this was their only choice. Her hand instinctively tightened into a fist. To Shen, their fuckable meat. He's forgotten that they're people. Vulnerable people. If I can make their lives a bit more bearable by gettin' rid of this asshole, so be it.

Alex climbed down the ladder and waited at the back door, hand on her waist. Her fist tightened as she swung. Three knocks interrupted the premature fun. Alex listened to the confused footsteps approach cautiously. The door opened just enough to reveal her scarred face under the pale moonlight. A fresh claw-mark slashed across her exposed abdomen. A second deeper scar ran vertically through her right eye, stopping at the tip of her nose. The last one was barely visible through her maroon camisole. Only the curved start was visible, slithering down the left shoulder to her chest. Each scar was a different story told across a pastel battlefield. Dark rosewood hair parted over her right eye, flowing down her shoulders. Striking mossy eyes gazed indifferently. The boss dismissively waved his hand, laughing to ease his guards. Lowering their guns, they nebbishly joined in.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The boss yanked the door open while undressing Alex with a lecherous gaze. Disgusted, Alex shivered*. It feels like worms burrowin’ under my skin.* Alex gagged as he draped his arm around her shoulder. The cold touch of his synthskin on hers felt like coarse sandpaper. Servojoints whirred in her ear. “Shen, I didn’t know you bought me a slut from your stable. And she’s a gweilo too. Haven’t had one in a long fucking time. Other than the fucked up face, I’d say she’s gonna suck my cock dry.”

Shen blinked, adjusting his collar before strutting over to investigate. "And who are you supposed to be?"

She remained quiet, studying her surroundings.

"Does it matter?" The boss’s curious hand glided down Alex's shoulders. Before they could thoroughly explore her skin, she snatched his wrist, holding it like a vice grip. She felt her veins ignite with a fiery disgust. Amused by her temerity, he burst into laughter. Lust filled his eyes as they dilated. “She's aggressive. Just my type!” He pulled Alex closer, breaking free from her grasp. His lips split open with joy, revealing pearly yellow teeth.

God, he smells like rotted piss left out in the sun.

“I'm going to have fun with you!” He winked at his sycophants as Alex reached for her waist. “Am I right...?” A Bowie knife burrowed its way into his chest as blood poured like scarlet waves. Alex yanked the knife free, shaking off the blood and flesh with a flick. Then he sank to the floor, clutching his chest.

Her undesired attention shifted to Shen. She sheathed her knife, and reached for her holster.

He pulled at his chain, trying to conceal his trembling hand. "This has to be a mistake!" he assured. "Let's work out a deal...." His voice trailed off. Fear painted his face with broad strokes.

The vivid black ink on her chest came to life as she stepped over the corpse. It was one of the many tattoos adorning Alex’s skin. Perched on a skull, a raven spread its’ midnight wings.

Shen slammed the briefcase shut when he glanced at the tattoo on her right forearm. Death roamed a quiet forest, the naked trees shuddering. He hugged the suitcase tightly and whimpered as he stared at her left shoulder. It was a tattoo of a moon rising above a beastly silhouette, howling. With his back against the wall, he slid down, terrified. “Damnit! It’s her! It’s her!” He cried in tears. “She’s the one on Woozie’s payroll! M-Mercer! Alex Mercer!”

The lackeys didn’t know how to react.

Their trembling hands reached for their holsters, eyes wide with pure unadulterated dread. How sweet! Alex silently moaned, but her sole focus was on Shen. He quaked as if his skin was melting off his bones from the fear. He looked at the window. Shen grabbed the chair and hurled it at the window. Jagged glass exploded into the alleyway. Before she could pull the trigger, he squeezed himself through the broken glass, scrambling to escape. Blood dripped from his arms as he squirmed to freedom.

Oh no you don't!" Quickly holstering her gun, she vaulted out the window, following his trail until he was swallowed by the passing crowds. She then looked at the ground. Thin ruby streaks revealed his escape.

Alex raced through the night market, shoving oblivious pedestrians obscuring her path. A noodle cart stopped in front of her. She leapt over, refusing to slow down. She searched the ground for evidence of Shen. The blood trail was thin. There was a sudden noise coming from the alleyway. She noticed a shadow on the wall slip away.

A thin blood trail led down the grungy bricked alleyway, forming sanguine smears. The walls opened up into some businesses and restaurants away from the night market. Flies buzzed around leaking dumpsters, light-bulbs flickered, shattered, hanging onto dim life, and a sewer grate spat up a rotten, musky stomach-churning reek that made her lightheaded. Alex gagged at the miasma assaulting her nose.

She then heard a rattle echo from somewhere close. But she didn't have time to focus on that, it was Shen or nothing.

Continuing her search, Alex's eyes focused on a trail of curved droplets leading behind a dumpster. She heard muffled whimpering. Her hand glided eagerly to her holster. Cocking her gun, she inched towards the noise.

Alex crept and saw Shen. He backed himself against the wall, rocking, his eyes sullen yet frail. His arms shook as he aimed with a Rokov .22 caliber handgun. Anxious tears trickled down his cheeks as he clicked the trigger, praying for a bullet. Alex’s menacing shadow grew under the sentinel moonlight. It consumed his rattled body as a single blood droplet slowly trickled down her cheek.

She steadied her aim, eyes down the sights as she eased her anxious trigger finger.

"You don’t want to do this!” he begged.

One step forward and Shen squirmed. Look at you now. She shook her head with a smirk. Where'd all the confidence go?. A mocking laugh hid in her throat. I love it when they break down.

“You done fucked up, Shen." She shoved the barrel in his face. "Ripped of the boss man and your girls. Be thankful it’s me and not Mr. Sun."

You deserve worse than this. She wanted to say that, but Alex never let personal feelings interfere with her work.

Shen thrust the briefcase forward. “Here's half," he pleaded, voice cracking. “Tell Woozie you killed me and I ran off with the other half. Please." He slid the briefcase forward insistently.

"Beggin' gets you nowhere." She scoffed, sharpening her gaze. "But a bribe? God, you're pathetic."

“T-then take the w-whole thing!”

“That's not how this works." Her grew colder as she reminded him of their world. "You piss someone off, they call me in, you catch a bullet. Understand?”

Tears streamed down his reddened cheeks. “Why me?” His voice was a meek murmur.

Studying the woeful Shen, Alex thought to herself. Why do they always ask that? I’ll never fuckin’ know. Askin’ what they did to deserve this. It makes them look weak and pathetic. It pisses me off! You could shoot me now and run! But you won't do that. You've already accepted your fate. Kills the fun.

“Please… I’m begging you…” Shen pleaded.

“Well, you shoulda thought about how precious your life was before you went and did this, jackass. Life doesn’t give a single shit about any of us. We all die sooner or later. It’s a never endin’ vicious cycle. And for you, ya get to die right now.”

Chains echoed. Alex tilted her head toward the sound. Silver moonlight darted above the rooftops. Above, a lone silhouette was perched on the rooftops, observing. Then the figure quickly rose. Alex shifted her barrel’s gaze to the intruder just as a steel dervish twirled, lashing the night sky with its blades.