Before he can finish, the old lady takes her knife and sticks it in his throat. He smirks, flicking the blade with his index finger. He tries laughing, but the blade interrupts any sound coming out. The blood drips onto his white silk blouse, ruining it.
The old assassin blinks and the knife is gone, back on the table. Standing in front of her is Terror Girl, who has spittle dripping down her chin and is rocking back and forth while holding onto the counter. Jonas’s blouse is clean, with no sign of the blood stain.
“How the fuck—”
“You know how.”
Old lady squints her eyes, looking at Terror Girl. “No…no one does that anymore. No surgeon would even think of it.”
“No one would be stupid enough to get it.”
“And yet, here we are.”
The old assassin braces herself against the counter. “I only knew of rumors, tales of old heads who had it done.” She reaches out to touch Terror Girl, who has recovered. “Why’d you do that? Do you know what happens?”
“I’m going to kill her now,” Terror Girl says as she starts to come back.
“She’s useful for information. We should take her,” Jonas cautions.
“None of you taking me anywhere.”
Seconds later, Terror Girl is dragging the unconscious, retired assassin through the door. Jonas follows before pausing to look at the bodies of the waitress and the cook.
Jonas dips his fingers in the neck wound of the cook, coating the tips in blood. With it, he draws a giant “K.K.” on the floor before wiping his fingers off on the cook’s apron and leaving the bryce shop.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish