Chapter 1: Employee of the Month (Deceased)
Location: Central City Highway
Time: 11:45 PM
Externally, Z looked like a demon made of ice.
Her sleek, stolen black sports car tore down the neon-lit highway at one hundred and forty miles per hour. Her face was a mask of absolute, terrifying calm. Her cold, sharp eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, tracking the three heavily armored black SUVs tailing her. A man leaned out of the passenger window of the lead SUV, firing a high-caliber submachine gun.
Z smoothly cranked the steering wheel to the left, drifting the car with brutal, mathematical precision. The bullets shattered her rear windshield, showering the leather interior in diamond-like fragments. She didn't flinch. She simply reached out the shattered window with her left hand, didn't even look back, and fired two precise shots from her silenced pistol.
Pop. Pop.
The front left tire of the lead SUV exploded. The massive vehicle violently flipped end-over-end, crashing into a concrete perimeter barrier in a ball of fire.
Internally, Zai was having a complete meltdown.
Okay, seriously, what is happening?! her inner voice shrieked, thoroughly annoyed. I do my job perfectly. I execute a flawless, silent hit. Zero collateral damage. I even wiped down the doorknobs! And this is the thanks I get? The entire tactical division of the Syndicate is trying to turn me into Swiss cheese? Who authorized this overtime?!
The Obsidian Syndicate was an ancient, underground criminal empire. They had been around for centuries, fully known by the military and the government for kidnapping, smuggling, and running the dark underworld. Zai had been raised by them since she was a child, known in the field simply as "Z." She was their best weapon. Cold, efficient, and ruthless.
But right now, she was extremely confused.
Her encrypted comms earpiece suddenly crackled to life. It was Dispatch.
"All units, all units! The suspect is heading south on Highway 4! Do not let her escape! The Boss wants her head! She killed the Young Master! I repeat, Z assassinated the Boss’s only son!"
Zai blinked. Her foot actually slipped off the gas pedal for a fraction of a second.
Wait... what? she thought, her internal monologue screeching to a halt. The Boss's son? I didn't kill the Boss's son. I killed the target they sent me! The enemy of the organization!
She quickly reviewed the target dossier the organization had sent her that morning:
Target Profile: Male. Late twenties. Wearing a ridiculously flashy white suit with gold trim. Terrible tribal tattoo on the left side of his neck. Laughs like a dying hyena. Found in the VIP lounge of the Velvet Room Club.
I literally shot the guy in the white suit with the stupid neck tattoo! Zai argued with herself in her head, feeling deeply wronged. If the Boss’s son was wearing that exact same outfit, laughing like a hyena in the VIP lounge, then whoever wrote the intel report needs to be fired! Or executed! Or both! How is this MY fault?!
Another volley of bullets slammed into the trunk of her car.
"Idiots," Z muttered out loud. Her voice was flat, carrying the deadly chill of an apex predator. She slammed the brakes, letting the second SUV pull up beside her. Without a second of hesitation, she pulled a fragmentation grenade from her belt, pulled the pin with her teeth, and casually tossed it through the SUV's open window.
She slammed the gas again, speeding forward right as the SUV exploded behind her in a deafening shockwave.
If I live through this, I am definitely leaving a terrible review in the company suggestion box, she thought, rolling her eyes as she swerved around a civilian sedan. 'Hostile work environment. Poor communication skills from management.'
But as she raced down the highway like a maniac, a heavy, sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the realization was setting in.
She had killed the Boss's son. It didn't matter that it was a clerical error. It didn't matter that some idiot in the intel department mixed up the target's description. The Obsidian Syndicate would never stop hunting her.
Well. Time to move to the Bahamas and change my name to Lia, she thought, sighing internally.
She checked her rearview mirror again to see if the last SUV was still following.
"Gotcha," she whispered coldly.
But because her eyes were in the mirror, she didn't see the intersection ahead. She didn't see the massive, eighteen-wheeler freight truck running the red light until the blinding, blazing white headlights flooded her windshield.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me—
CRASH.
The impact was catastrophic. The world turned into a violent blur of crushing metal, shattering glass, and deafening noise. The sports car was folded entirely in half, flipping through the air before violently skidding upside down across the wet asphalt of the city street.
Then... stillness.
Zai was pinned upside down in the crushed driver’s seat. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber filled her lungs. She couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't feel much of anything at all, just a creeping, freezing cold spreading from her chest. Blood dropped slowly from her forehead onto the shattered glass below.
Wow, she thought, her internal voice sounding weirdly distant and sluggish now. That really hurts. I hope I remembered to clear my browser history.
Through her fading consciousness, she heard the chaotic sounds of the city.
“Oh my god! Someone call 911!” a panicked civilian voice cried out from the sidewalk.
“Is she alive? Don’t move her!”
“The ambulance is coming, just hold on!”
In the distance, the high-pitched wail of police sirens and an ambulance began to echo through the cold night air, getting closer. Red and blue lights flickered against the pavement.
Zai tried to open her mouth to speak, to curse out the truck driver, or maybe just to ask for a painkiller, but her lungs wouldn't move. The world was getting incredibly dark. The sirens sounded like they were underwater.
This is a really embarrassing way for a legendary assassin to die, she complained to herself one last time. Killed by bad HR management and a delivery truck.
Her eyes slowly slid shut. The flashing police lights faded away.
Then, there was nothing.
No pain. No sirens. No syndicate.
Just endless, absolute silence.
