As soon as I was behind closed doors, I stripped down and stood in front of the mirror, admiring and committing to memory my new form. Lisa was three decades younger than I was, and looking at her body, a flash of envy mingled with gratitude washed over me. I was envious of the privileged life that allowed her to maintain flawless skin from birth and grateful to be the new owner of this exquisite specimen.
Despite having identical faces, our lives were as different as west from east, which was why we had different endings. I was the daughter of a drug addicted mother and an absentee father who did not stick around long enough to even witness my birth. My mother was convinced I was the source of all her problems, which is why a week after leaving with me, she brought me back to the hospital and abandoned me in the waiting room of the hospital, never to be seen again. The only thing she left behind was a bottle of her milk and a note saying she could not stay sober long enough to take care of me. The milk was tested and found to contain surprising amounts of at least four types of opioids.
I wish I could say that the worst thing that ever happened to me was getting abandoned from birth, but that was the gateway to a lifetime of pain and violence. While other orphans went on to decent orphanages where the worst thing that could happen to them was getting starved or maybe spanked, I went to its hell equivalent. The home I landed in happened to be run by the director of a hospital, who, unbeknownst to people, was the leader of the biggest pharmaceutical company. This company had higher success rates than any other company with minimal casualties and effects when it came to the drug trials, and this was largely due to the endless supply of orphans whom they used as lab rats. By the age of ten, I had been picked, prodded, and cut so much so that I had more scar tissue on my body than actual skin.
The child trafficking ring was discovered by police, and arrests were made, but not before I was sold to the next buyer, who was not interested in my anatomy as much as he was interested in my resilience. My new buyer and the man I would call father for the rest of my young life was infamously known as the big don, and that was the only name I knew until his passing. Big Don was in the market for child soldiers, and I happened to be among the chosen few. The next five years of my life had the first ten years look like a walk in the park. We starved, were beaten, and repeatedly pushed to the brink of death before being treated only for the cycle to begin all over again.
In those five years, my body became stronger than ten men, even as a child, but what was left of my sanity and humanity was completely eroded under the cruelty I endured. When training ended and we were given field assignments, I quickly rose through the ranks by hacking through every assignment with zero remorse. By twenty, I was one of the most notorious hitmen, with the code name Snake.
The name Snake had people getting heart attacks before I got to them, entire corporations shut down with just a threat of my name, and Big Don could not have been more proud of me, and when he passed, he bequeathed his entire criminal empire to me. With unimaginable wealth to my name and zero empathy for life, I created a big name for myself, and at the time of my arrest, I had directly killed thousands of people and indirectly ended tens of thousands. My arrest had been big news, and a lot of people felt safer with me behind bars, if only they could see me now.
Lisa's phone vibrated in my pocket. Joseph was displayed on the screen as the device vibrated in my hand, and I paused, trying to remember why my heart, or rather Lisa's heart, was beating quicker. A memory of the two talking flashed in my mind. Despite her father's prolonged illness, it was human intervention that ended his life. Joseph was her father's biggest rival, a position he inherited from his father, who had also warred with my father. He ended Lisa's father's life, and come tomorrow, so would his. I took a long shower, soaking in the giant bathtub that was in her room. I took in the luxury that I had been denied by life in prison, enjoying the blood-free abundance before sliding my tired, naked body into bed.
I had been up exercising on the balcony, a routine embedded in my soul for a few hours before a firm knock sounded at my door. I jogged to the door, not wanting to break my flow, and pushed it open, revealing an immaculately dressed Brian carrying a tray of documents in his hands. I glanced back at the balcony to confirm that the sun had yet to rise, and yet this man who did not spend the night here was already at my door with work.
"I don't know what that is, but today we are not doing any paperwork. scratch that, there is no day in which I will be sitting down signing papers," I added, dreading the concept of bureaucracy more than going to war.
"These documents are important, especially with the takeover. It is tedious work, but Mathew compressed it as much as he could for you."
"Tomorrow then, today is trash clean up. We are going to an execution."
"Execution? Whose?"
"Joseph," I answered, and he had no follow-up questions, which earned him my respect.
I took a quick shower before putting on a set of matching cashmere pants and a shirt that clung to my skin in a soft embrace. This was as close to combat clothes as I could find in Lisa's closet. I made a note to get more clothes in my style as I had Brian order breakfast for us. I had done my best recreating Lisa's usual makeup routine, and I was positive no one could tell the difference. Keeping up appearances was important, especially in affluent families such as Lisa's.
"I need twenty men, at least five of them should be sharpshooters. I want them to scope this area and cover this room from all angles." I said to Brian as I took a seat, joining him at the dining table. I pointed at a rundown warehouse, a recent acquisition by Lisa's company, that was set to be demolished to pave the way for an apartment complex. He studied the warehouse, nodded before excusing himself. Brian's family was the biggest weapons manufacturer in all three main countries that made up this novel's world. They also had the most lethal small army, which had been the subject of numerous political complications. These two factors made him the best man for my request. By the time he came back ten minutes later, I had gulped down both his meal and mine. The sun had come out, brightening up the room, making it difficult to miss his flabbergasted expression.
"What?" I asked, "I worked hard today. I deserve to have a scrumptious meal," I replied haughtily. He smiled but said nothing, motioning me to follow him out.