“There’s only one rule in being an assassin… trust no one.”
I’ve heard it for the millionth time already, but I guess I’ll never get bored of that line. After all, the particular saying was what kept me going, especially in a world where so many connections and relationships were made, and so little survived.
Well, here I am, stuck with this job of killing people. Then again, it’s not like I can really choose.
****
It was a fine evening. The sun was just setting down, basking the entire living room with a warm orange light. For an apartment, the place was quite fancy. I wasn’t really doing anything, so I just laid on the floor with my feet up the couch, letting my mind wander aimlessly.
“Magenta?”
“Yes?” I replied.
My grandmother, Silver, winked at me. “You’re up for something again. Call Mr. Wilson later for more details.”
I sighed, but I let out a smile. This means another job.
Yes, my name is Magenta. Or at least that’s what Gran calls me. That’s what everyone calls me when it has anything to do with my job. I don’t know if I can even remember my real name anymore. But it’s not really a big issue, not when everything else was definitely much more important than my identity, let alone my name.
“Okay, I’ll call him. You’re not doing anything tonight, Gran?”
“No, I’ll probably just be home knitting,” she chuckled.
I laughed. Yeah right, as if Gran would actually knit. She taught me everything I know. In fact, she was the one who picked me up when I was little, left without any parents or any material possession I can rely on to continue living. Gran was a father and a mother, but most importantly she was the greatest grandmother I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen a lot of great grandmas. Gran would always know what’s on my mind, almost like she had a chip installed up in my head that tells her everything. Now that I know what she does for a living, I might have to consider this possibility to be true… I should get my head checked.
“No, seriously, what’re you doing tonight?” I asked, after the waves of hilarity ended.
“Come on, Magenta. Can’t your grandma do what grandmas do once in a while? I’m really going to knit.” She replied with a stern tone, but she’s not really fooling anyone.
I gave up. “Okay then, if you say so…” I smiled. She smiled back at me.
“Now get up and go call Wilson. He’s not a patient person, that man.”
“Fine…”
I lazily got up and reached for my phone.
****
The day after, I was standing by in front of the gates of an amusement park. The only information I get from Wilson is that the mark will be here sometime at 5 PM, near sunset, which I must say is a very fitting time to die. I glanced at my watch and saw the fingers point at 3:15 PM… I’ve got plenty of time.
Wilson was ‘the middle man’, or so they call him. He was the one who arranged everything, making sure there are no loose ends and all needs are met. I first met Wilson at my 15th birthday, the tender age of puberty during which Gran somehow thought it was appropriate for me to watch how assassins work and, if I’m lucky enough, experience it firsthand. Of course, the things that happened that day would definitely stay around in my head. Not to mention that it’s commemorated every year too… Magenta’s first kill.
Ten years later and right now I still can’t really forget the feeling of that pistol, the tool that would allow humans to play God.
I glanced at my watch again. 3:30 PM. Time really does move slowly when all you do is wait. I saw a little kid running to her parents, shouting ‘I want an ice cream’.
I can’t help but to remember how everything actually began.
****
I was only five years old when my parents decided to leave me in the doorstep of an orphanage. I didn’t really know why they decided to run off, but I’m guessing it has to do with them being really young. At the time, I was five, and like many other five-year-olds, I cry a lot. In fact, I cry so much now that I can’t cry anymore.
Around a year later, an old lady showed up. She was kind, friendly, and she cared about what I was doing in the orphanage. She would ask about my days, about what I do and the friends I’ve made. Suffice to say that she had her eyes on me… and, even back then, I knew it.
“Do you want to go home with me?” she asked one day.
“Go home… with you?” I repeated her question, my eyes widened. “Do you mean you’ll take me home with you?” I asked again, looking for confirmation from her.
She remained unfathomable, but she smiled and nodded. “Is it a yes?”
I hugged her and finally cried again after a year.
****
“Excuse me?” a voice startled me. What a way to snap back to reality.
“Yeah?” I replied.
“You are… Magenta?” He was a tall man in a black suit, with some sort of a constant worried look on his face.
“Where did you hear this from? Rudy?”
“Rudy…?” he got confused, worsening that worried expression of his. “I don’t know any Rudy, but I do know a Wilson…”
I smiled. “That was a test. Yes, I’m Magenta. What is it?”
The man seemed relieved. “Wilson told me to tell you that the mark will be here at 5:30, half an hour later than expected.”
“Goddammit, Wilson. Why can’t you ever do your information right?” I cursed to myself. “Well, tell Wilson I got the info. Thanks.”
The man nodded, but before he moved, he asked something else. “By the way, is Magenta your real name? No offense, but you don’t seem an awful lot like a Magenta.”
“It’s a long story,” I chuckled. “I’ll tell you when we meet again.”
“Okay then. Good luck.” The man left, but not without leaving me yet another thing to ponder about—my name.
****
“Gran, why do people call you Silver? I mean your real name is…” I was about to blurt more when she said, “Magenta, listen.”
“I think I’ve told you that we don’t talk about this. It’s much better that you don’t know, really. That’s all you need to know.” She ended her explanations abruptly, clearly determined not to answer any other questions I might come up with.
I was 10, but I looked like I was 13. Gran showed me her gun collection last night, although I wondered why an old lady like her would need that many guns for self-protection. She said that I might use it too someday, but I honestly am not too excited about the prospect of me holding a gun.
“Well, if you don’t want to tell me why people call you that, why do you call me Magenta? I have a real name too, you know…” I pouted.
She smiled and held my hands gently. “Your real name is the past. From now on, you’ll wear the name Magenta proudly. Promise me that.”
I wanted to say, “I don’t want to,” but her calming eyes erased any trace of doubt I had at the time.
“I promise.”
****
This time, I turned back my attention to reality on my own. I took a glimpse at my watch. 4:30 PM. One more hour to burn before I actually do anything.
I felt a slight chill. I decided to look around discreetly, before finally realizing that there are two people silently observing me. Gran once told me that silent observers should mean no harm to you, unless they act like they’re not observing you—and it looks like they’re falling behind in their acting classes. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to play with them a bit… I’m bored anyway.
I ran.
I ran as fast I can, putting my stalkers in panic now that their target made a move. But after ten minutes of pursuit, those two men from before had found a shortcut throughout the place, and I found myself cornered at the back of a cotton candy stall.
“You guys really don’t know when to quit, do you?” I panted.
They stood in silence.
“You sure you got the right person?” I asked, trying to act confused.
Upon hearing this, one of them put his guard down, so I quickly reached for him and snapped his neck. The remaining stalker was shocked and retreated a few steps.
“Go, now. Before I change my mind,” I said.
I turned around to leave, but he charged towards me in a desperate strike, the mindless idiot, but I dodged swiftly. As he fell to the ground, I decided to take out my handgun—silenced, of course—and warm it up by shooting him in the head.
I wiped off my gun and dragged their bodies out of public sight. They were from the police.
With this kind of adrenaline rush, I could do anything… or so Gran said.
****
It was three days before my 15th birthday.
“It’s time,” Gran looked at me.
“Time? For what?” I asked, looking puzzled. I was gobbling up the spaghetti bowl in front of me for lunch.
“For you to realize your talents, Magenta. For you to rise, to grow, and to bloom to greatness. To become the person you ought to be.”
“What are you talking about, Gran?”
“You’ll see soon enough. Finish that bowl and follow me.”
I followed Gran back to her room, where she kept an amazing amount of weaponry hidden. “Tell me, Magenta, what do I do for a living?” she asked, while helping herself to a small pistol.
“You work in a research and development center for weapons… that’s why you got this many guns in your room.”
“What if I tell you that you’re wrong?” she smiled.
“What do you mean I’m wrong? You’re a researcher, right?” I asked, each minute feeling the atmosphere getting heavier.
“I’m an assassin, Magenta. If you remember your question, why people call me Silver, it’s because if they know my real name I’ll be dead by tomorrow morning.”
Her smile hasn’t faded at all. It’s amazing how she could smile while telling me something as outrageous as being an assassin in her middle 50s.
“No, you’re not,” I said. She only chuckled and pointed a gun at me. “Gran?”
“Yes, I am. If I’m not, how can I do this?” she asked. All of a sudden, she shot the wall a few inches next to me. I could feel my heart fell into my feet.
The next one hour was filled with a lot of questions.
“So… you want me to continue your job?” I asked, not really sure whether I’m able to hurt a fly, not to mention murder someone.
“Yes. You will continue what I’ve done, but I want you to understand that it’s not all dark and scary, this job, once you get used to it… and I’ll be with you along the way.”
“But… a killer… me?”
“Magenta, you have no life other than here. Face it. This is what you’ll do, and this is what I’ve been secretly training you for. You’re ready. One last thing, remember that there’s only one rule in being an assassin… trust no one.”
Yes, my life as an assassin began three days before my 15th birthday.
****
I took a peek at my watch. This whole slipping in and out of memories was getting into me, because apparently it’s 5:30 PM. The mark should be here any second… and according to what Wilson said, it’s an old man who will be wearing a brown jacket.
I hid in a safe distance and looked around… I saw him. It’s an old man with a brown jacket, exactly like the description.
I took out my gun when I suddenly saw Gran walking towards that old man. My heart fell to my feet again. What on earth is Gran doing here? They started chatting, but Gran’s expression was cold instead of her usual cheerful self.
“Move out of the way, Gran…” I whispered to myself. “You’re making this hard for me…”
Yes, Gran seemed to be able to read what was on my mind no matter how far we’re separated. She just walked out of the frame, allowing me enough room for a clean shot.
But isn’t that…?
****
“Gran, who’s this guy in the picture?”
My grandmother smiled. “He’s your grandpa. He ran away from me after knowing that I’m an assassin. I wasn’t able to find him, too.”
“Really? But aren’t people not supposed to know your secret?” I asked, with the naivety of a fifteen-year-old.
“Yes, they’re not supposed to know,” she smiled again. “And thanks to your grandpa, I find it impossible to trust people ever since.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“By the way, Gran… why Magenta? I don’t like the color…” I mumbled. “I like red, or black, but not magenta…”
“You know, magenta is bold, dangerous, but also delicate. I want you to grow to be a woman just like that, okay?”
I smiled. “Okay, Gran.”
“And what’s the only rule in being an assassin?” she asked me again for the umpteenth time.
“Trust no one.”
****
Well, as she had hoped, I’ve bloomed. Magenta is now a professional assassin that has never let any of the assigned targets live. I worked cleanly and efficiently, unseen to the amateur eyes. I executed them indiscriminately.
And, just now, I killed my own grandfather.
“You know, Gran, when you said ‘trust no one’, I’ve never expected myself to be able to do that,” I smiled, holding my hand on the stomach, my blood running.
Apparently Gran stayed around when I killed him, and she shot me directly afterwards.
“Does it have anything to do with that then, Gran?” I asked her.
She smiled, as usual, but said nothing for a while before finally saying, “No. In fact, I liked you very much, Magenta. It’s just unfortunate that you had to present yourself at the wrong time. I told you I can’t trust anyone, right? Not since him. It’s better for you to go like this rather than desert me in the future.”
“I see… well, I don’t really know how that makes me feel,” I said weakly.
“Magenta, what’s the rule in being an assassin?” she asked, hiding the tears streaming down from her face.
“Trust… no one…”
I closed my eyes, the sight of the merry-go-round slowly fading away.
****
@2 months ago with 2 notes
#story #short #fiction #assassin #magenta
