Just when Number 22 was about to take the suitcase, Soakjin spoke again.
"No... not you. He may carry it. You just bring some cold drinks into the private chamber."
Number 22 froze, then looked at me with that same weird look-- the kind that said, seriously? Why always him? I smell something odd.
"As you say, sir," Number 22 obeyed, his eyes faking a smile. He looked at me once more and gave a coded hand sign: You've got two tasks, sir -- take the suitcase and spill whatever secrets he's hiding.
I rolled my eyes and gave him a glance that meant, that's a piece of my favorite chocolate cake.
"Yes, sir," I told Soakjin gently, then took the suitcase from 22's hand. I carried Soakjin into a private room and closed the door behind us with a soft thud while Number 22 set a bottle of wine on the polished table beside the bed.
He didn't stay a full minute before Soakjin snapped, "Leave... before I call my bodyguard." His voice hit with sudden anger.
For a second I wondered-- was he threatening me? Had he found out who we were?
We froze. I almost readied my gun to put a bullet through his forehead, right then and there.
But no. He told Number 22 to leave. Not me.
We looked at each other without really looking. He snapped again, louder. "I said get out! Leave us alone!" His drunk voice echoed. My ears warned me: stop him now or you'll lose control.
I shoved my hand behind my back and mouthed to 22, Get out quick. I'll handle this. He nodded and left. We were alone. It felt... willingly exciting. I like manipulation. It has a strange satisfaction. Life taught me those lessons.
I set Soakjin down on the bed. Poor guy-- he couldn't lift himself without help. His anger was messy; he wasn't exactly pitiable.
I checked my watch. 1:30 a.m. I'd leave before fifty. I sent a quick message to the team without waiting for replies. I knew what they'd say.
The time started. So did my teasing.
Soakjin's head stayed bowed. I made him look up with a finger under his chin. "Sir... you alright? Why did you need me specifically?" I asked.
His eyes were half-lidded. Then he grabbed my arm, tighter than I expected for someone so drunk. "Because I need you... right now," he said, more an order than a plea. His breath stuttered.
Perfect. Manipulation engaged. He'd checked out of logic.
"Remove your mask. Let me see your face properly," he demanded, trembling hands moving to my throat to pull at the mask. I didn't let him. He kneeled off the bed and forced me lower.
"Are those eyes even real?" he slurred.
I held his hand away and teased his thumb with my teeth through the mask, my red eyes cold on him. He seemed to fantasize, his mouth opening into a weak moan.
"Your fingers are too soft for a man like you, sir," I said, pretending not to know what I meant.
He crawled closer until he sat across my thigh, trying not to act needy. He took my finger into his mouth like a piece of dark chocolate and stammered, "Then I have a harder one to give... too... just--"
I moved away before he could finish. The sudden withdrawal made him gasp, his eyes snapping to me with raw disappointment.
"Sorry, Sir, but I'm the premium side character in your story. You can't get premium moments without--" I rubbed my thumbs together and tilted my head. "Without something premium too."
"Stop playing and give me what I need!" Soakjin hissed through clenched teeth, eyes bloodshot with anger and need.
I smirked under my mask. Great-- right where I wanted him.
I gripped his tie and forced him to look at me. The sound he made was closer to a moan than a whimper.
"Answer my questions first... then maybe," I leaned in, my breath a ghost against his skin, "I'll give you a little taste... only."
It sounded less like a promise and more like an order wrapped in a dark offer.
"What do you want? Money? Diamonds? Property? Anything -- just take it. Take me, take everything. My body is burning, you tease --" His voice broke and cut off. Rage, need, and desperation tangled together. He bit his lower lip and let out a trembling sound.
That look was too perfect. I almost wanted to take a picture.
"Good boy. Then I'll give you the prize for each answer." I kept my voice smooth.
"Seriously? You'll play quiz while I'm dying here? What could you possibly ask?" He hissed, eyes watering.
"Shh." I pressed a finger to his lips. He tried to suck it. I pulled back and rolled my eyes. " get off.."
I cleared my throat before continuing "First prize is...my finger. Second is... a squeeze on the thighs. Last one is—" I let the pause hang.
"A whole night!" he blurted, desperate.
"Ah, shut up. Let me speak..."
I let it sink in . When he finally stopped his nonsense, I spoke again "First question: what is in the suitcase?"
"M... money... for a personal task," he said through clenched teeth , his eyes over my Adam's apple
"For what?" I asked..
"I said personal task," he hissed like a warning.
"Let's hear it. Who knows, we might be on the same page~" I purred teasingly
"I said NOTHING." His voice was raising..which felt like a slap across my face. I hate disrespect.
"Oh, it. is. SOMETHING." I pushed a small laugh.. my own anger was raising too.
But that guy was impossible...
"It's not ANYTHING! WHO ARE YOU TO ASK ME THOSE!!? ANSWER ME THIS FIRST!"
I didn't answer. His gun didn't stay silent.
The shot was quick. Close. The moment folded like paper.
"YOU— ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS ANSWER ME!" I yelled, and answered with another gunshot at his left leg.
"AAHHH !!! " He cried out while holding his poor leg then hissed
"You lowly servant.." , eyes dripping angry tears . I left him behind. I
didn't kill him. Not yet. I wasn't done. I left him alive-- with a memory of my bullets.
"Shut up and wait for an ambulance so I can kill you next time ! " I yelled before I left. He froze at the sight of me... and he was still processing everything.
I ran from the room with the suitcase. My earpiece glitched as my teammate's voice came through. "Sir Rain! They're here -- more than thirty men! We can't make it out smoothly if we're late!" Number 45 shouted.
"On it. I have the suitcase but not all the details. He ruined it by alerting them," I barked while moving like a dancer to the rhythm of chaos.
"God damn it! That guy really has no patience!" Number 23 complained through the comms.
I let my voice grow darker and smirked into my mask. "Oh no, now the game's over. Bad boy is here, babe."
"What did you say, sir?" crackled the channel. Everyone echoed. I choked out a chuckle while twisting a fighter's neck until the bone cracked. "Ah, nothing -- just boosting you all. Run. Jump. Keep moving. Reputation matters."
"Run! Run!" they echoed back.
"Jump! Jump!"
"Love is a lie, lie, so say them goodbye!" we all spat, a rough chorus.
The fight went on. Men rushed in to get us, and we killed them one by one. I watched with the same calm I use for a knife. There were many hitmen, but not five hundred versus us. We moved like a family, not just a team.
Number 45 was fast with punches. Number 23 never missed with a running shot. Number 43 could hack any system. Number 22 wiped traces like a cold-headed snake.
And me? I was Rainism-- the sum of 22, 23, 43, and 45.
The fight was brutal but precise. Screams, running bodies, blood. Their heat fulfilled my name: Rain of Blood. After an hour we heard sirens.
"22!" I called as we raced to the rooftop.
"Evidence removed, sir," came 22's reply as he followed.
"Plane's here!" 45 said, eyes on the sky. The wind already felt like escape.
Our private plane rolled down. We climbed aboard and took off before anyone could guess who we were.
Chapter 3 (spoiler)
"Low profile. High value. Connected to Soakjin's case... indirectly. Your call when you find him. Extract or eliminate. He's acting to get back that suitcase. It's more than money."
My hands tightened on the shirt. No face. Only data. Another mission. Another ghost to honor.