this is future Alice Bishop (September 5, 2019). i just wanted to say that i wrote this a while ago and it's not very good. so -- read with that in mind.

 (i used to be so extra, dear lord.)

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In a sketchy neighbourhood in Queens, the panicked sounds of a man's breathing echoed off the buildings, as did the sound of boots running at top speed. The shadows cast were distorted, like lanky giants were parading the streets. The sound of a blade being withdrawn from its sheath made his heart skip a beat.

"Leave me alone!" he yelled, and kept running.

"I'm sorry, I can't do that," The sound of a woman's mocking voice said with a devious laugh. 

He ran through an alley way, hoping to enter and disappear into a crowd, but no such luck for the damned. 

A female figure dropped in front of him, barely making a noise, and with one foul swing, she relieved his head from his body. 

"I have a contract to uphold." 

She blinked a few times, there was blood in her eyelashes. She put on her disposable latex gloves and sat down next to the body, which was releasing all sorts of noises and gasses. Her favourite part of the job.

"You know, I wouldn't have thought you had such a rep," she said, picking up his head and throwing it up into the air, "By the way, you were screaming back there" -- she imitated his screams and laughed -- "pathetic. Oh, who am I? Thank you for asking. My name is--" she paused for dramatic affect, "Wyvern. That is not my real name. I thought I'd mention that just in case you were a fucking idiot or something." 

Her real name was Audrey Wilson, a mild mannered seventeen-year-old from Hoboken. 

She took a granola bar out of her costume and unwrapped it. "You want a bite?" The dead-man didn't say anything. "Okay, okay if your gonna be an asshole about it." Her phone rang. "Oh, Speaking of assholes. Hello?" she said into the phone, her mouth full of oats and chocolate chips. "Hey, Sam. I just told dead-guy you were an asshole..." She said this with a snort of evil laughter.

"Ha ha. Yeah, okay, so, he's dead?" Sam asked. Every since Wyvern -- or Audrey, to him -- had become an assassin, he had been at her side... Figuratively. Blood made him frazzled.

"Yeah, yeah, Sam-burger. Look, I'll check, I'll poke him." She said, just to bug her best -- only -- friend.

"No, don't poke him," he told her.

"Too late," she said, and poked his lifeless arm. "He is VERY dead."

He took a deep breath. "So I can tell Mr. Harris that Maury is dead?"

"Yeah -- and say that he won't have to worry about the death threats this asshat was sending his daughter anymore. Oh, also say 'hi' to him for me."

"No."

"Okay. I'll get back soon, I got something to do," she said, blissfully unaware of the granola and blood smeared all over her face. She looked in Maury's pocket and found a piece of paper. She put it in her pocket.

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, clearing his throat, "so, um, Audrey, you want to do something Saturday night?"

"K, what?" she asked. 

"Uhhhh, never mind," he chickened out. Ever since they met, at the age of eight, Sam had thought she was the most powerful person he had ever met. And he had been totally in love with her from the first time he lay eyes on her. But, as she was with the blood-granola, she was quite unaware of his strong feelings. 

"Dokey. Byeeee!" she signed off. "Well," she started to talk to the dead man -- again. "Time I leave you to R.I.P.. See you in hell!" She saluted with a flick the wrist. 

She walked away from the corpse, sliding her blade back into its sheath. "Dead people are so stupid."

~ * ~

"Maury dead!?" a man named King said over the phone. "Did you find the info on his person? Crap. Harris must be behind this." He hung up the phone, and called someone else. "Hello, yes. I have a plan."