Happy #flashfiction Friday!
Kit groused and stretched her impossibly long limbs. Today was the day. She would rise and shine and murder.
She rose from her bed- long, lithe, and nude, and made her way to the bathroom. Without preamble, she hopped into the shower and turned on the water. She moaned pleasurably as the still warming water hit her flesh.
Kit lathered, rinsed, but did not repeat. She turned off the water and dried herself off in the tub.
She liked to parade about on a lazy Sunday in the altogether; she liked to air dry while reading in bed. Instead, today, she dressed and armed herself for the day.
Kit never carried anything as garish as a gun. Too brutish, too base. As she picked up her favorite blade, she raised it to her lips and cooed a gentle endearment before she sheathed it just below her breast.
She fitted her elegant toes into her shoes and made her way outside. The sun was still low and struggling to make its presence known from behind the silky gray clouds. Kit closed her eyes and inhaled the earthy scent of midsummer air.
She made her way quickly to the university where some visiting politician was due to speak. She didn’t know why she was being compelled to kill him, she only knew that her orders came from above.
That was good enough for her.
Kit took her place at the end of the large lecture hall. She waited patiently, careful not to allow her ears to work. She didn’t want to listen.
Hearing, however passive, led to listening. Listening led to opinions that she couldn’t afford to have about a mark. It was better to not hear in the first place.
At the end of the speech, there was a meet and greet. Kit patiently made her way to her mark and waited in line. When it was her time to smile and pose, she wrapped her arm around him and deposited her secret blade in his kidneys. She was quick and precise, he didn’t feel anything that she didn’t want him to.
He excused himself and Kit waited a respectful amount of time before she followed him into the men’s room. He turned and started at the sight of her. Kit pulled her favorite blade and stabbed into his stomach once, then twice.
“W-what?” he stammered in confusion. “I’m the good guy.”
“I don’t care,” she said. “I’m not.”
As he crumpled to the floor before her she turned to the sink and rinsed her blade before she dried it with a paper towel. She didn’t need to rush, she had time.
It was an hour before they found him, and Kit was long gone, reading in her bed.