The Man between my crosshairs (girl X assassin)

Chapter 16/Shoot it up

A/N Don't you just love lazy sunday afteroons? The roar of a winter fire, the crackle of wood, a cosy sofa and IM connection to your co-author. This is our tribute, what's yours? RK+Reb.

There is a bar like this on every planet. It's a home to lost souls and to the soul-less. It's a refuge to that which is better not housed. It's the place were every mother should tell her daughter not to go. It's the place. It is the place of bitter regret. The place where someone will know someone who can get you whatever kind of chemical kick you might mention. A place where a miss placed stare can get your arm broken. This one happened to be called 'Shoot it up'.

Zoe had a certain affinity for these kinds of dark places. She entered the bar and eyes and then heads moved to check her out. Desire was stirred. She was out of her business gear and in something a little more like skin tight urban camouflage. The pimps exchanged mean glances. They had a pecking order which needed to be obeyed. Zoe went to the bar, she was used to synchronizing a crowd's eyeball movements as she passed.

"I like what you've done here. Early brooding and moody. Nice. You should call this place Twilight" said Zoe to the barman as she sat on the stool. 

The bald tattooed barman stared silently at her, and continued to clean a glass. 

"I'll have shot." Zoe said again. The barman nodded.

"Are chickens legal on this planet?"

The barman nodded again.

"Then squeeze an egg out of one. I'll have that to."

She drank the shot and and ordered a shot followed by a chaser. Only then did she mention she was looking for someone called Grover. The barman nodded and led her through some bead curtains to the back. The patrons went back to drinking, inhaling and sweating the evil out of them selves. Someone should tell them it wasn't going to work.

****

The barman pulled her leather jacket open. Zoe looked at him but didn't move. He ran a small handheld scanner over her. She looked at him calmly but rudely.

"Is the whole not speaking thing a contractual obligation? Adds to the moody atmosphere but you must be so glad to get home and be able to hum all those Diana Ross tracks."

"The blonde is clear" said the barman moving back to the bar. The metal door unlocked with a clunk.

"Blonde?" said Zoe "I told the hairdresser I wanted bright butterscotch. She'll be livid, I've been here fifteen seconds and I already  feel ripped off."

The door opened to a small space with another door soon beyond it.

Zoe stood for a moment knowing she was being scanned. The scan matched that of a know Dark orbits disciple. The Dark Orbits managed to put the organised into organised crime. The door opened and a curly haired man nodded her over. He was young. His flesh crawled with patterns and pictured etched into his flesh. He had a nice face and which currently was fighting the desire he was pushing down for the sake of coolness and professionalism.

"Who sent you?" he said.

"I think we share friends, at the temple," she said. She paused between friends and temple. This was the correct pattern password used for recognition.

"I'm Mohab." The quartermaster said, "you're the assassin."

Zoe looked at him "Me assassin? No. But it's a nice word, isn't it? Any word which gets you to say ass twice in one word can't be all bad."

That was the formal introduction over. There was some black light in the room and Mohab caught hints around her neck. Fragments of the complex angle of death tattoo she had done on her neck and back. Mother had freaked out when Zoe had come back with that one done. Generally, assassins never have identifying marks. Anything which made you stand out or be identified was frowned upon. As always Zoe pushed the rules just up to breaking point, not quite enough to get her to be thrown out but just enough to make every instructor sigh.