The Disguised Assassin

Chloe drove the bike she had stolen into the garage. She got off the bike, groaning in pain as she placed her feet on the ground. She looked down at the bullet wound on her lap and sighed. It was sure as heck going to hurt cleaning it later. She then grabbed the painting off the bike and headed towards the entry door with the bag hung around her neck.

As she stumbled down the hallway, Chloe noticed the house was quiet. Way too quiet. In a ‘family’ like hers, quiet meant something was up. She brought out her gun from her skirt and pointed it in front of her as she began limping slowly towards the sitting room. The painting she was holding and the bag hung around her made her hands shaky so she unhung the bag and dropped it and the painting on the floor.

As she was about entering the dark sitting room, the lights suddenly came up and a loud, “SURPRISE!!” resonated through the room. Chloe shot her gun in the air in fright, screaming until the gun clicked empty.

“What in the name of William Franklyn-Miller do you guys think you’re doing?” Chloe screamed as she limped towards Dennis, the one who had been speaking with her through the earpiece.

“William Franklin-Miller?” Diana, Dennis’ wife, muttered confused. “You could have used anyones name. Hugh Jackman, Chris Evans.”

“I don’t know,” Chloe muttered. “I guess I’ve been watching too many kid movies.” She rubbed her temples and sighed. “What did you guys do?” she asked pointing to the cake on the table, “all of this?”

“Well, today’s mission actually became your nine hundredth successful mission ever since you were able to hold a gun. One hundred more and you’re at your thousandth,” Dennis said as he walked towards Chloe with tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, dear. Come here,” he said as he dragged Chloe and hugged her tightly. “I am literally the most happiest man in this freaking messed up world right now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe said as she pat Dennis’ back. “Now enough with the mushy mush. You’re taking my breath away.”

“Me too, Chloe,” Dennis muttered. “The way you deliver all those missions assigned to you always leaves me breathless.”

“Not… that,” Chloe croaked. “You’re… holding… me… tight. I can’t… freaking… breath.”

“Alright, alright. I think that’s enough hugging for one day,” Diana said as she dragged Chloe from Dennis’ tight grip. “You can continue your act of love later.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Dennis,” Chloe muttered as she coughed. She looked at the cake on the table and said, “I appreciate your gesture of kindness and love and I also love the fact that you guys are proud of me but for real, man. Scaring me like that?” she pointed her empty gun at the both of them, “I could have freaking killed the both of you. You know how I am around loud noises.”

“You’re an assassin who uses guns,” Diana said with her brows raised.

“Oh yes, I use guns. But I use them with a freaking silencer,” Chloe shouted. “And what’s with this cake? You know how much I freaking hate vanilla and caramel.” Dennis looked at his wife with confusion written all over his face.Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“I thought that was her favorite flavor,” Dennis muttered to his wife.

“I told you it wasn’t but no way in heck would you listen to a woman,” Diana said as she rolled her eyes.

Chloe chuckled as she slowly limped out of the sitting room and towards the stairs. “For shame, mama and papa,” she whispered as she hobbled up the stairs. “For shame.”

Chloe staggered to her room with a large smile on her face. She knew her parents were now having a heated argument downstairs about who was right and who was not and what her favorite flavor of cake was. And yes, it was vanilla and caramel but she loved messing around with them. As much as she loved them with all her heart, she was still an assassin, trained to be hard core and show no emotion by the same parents who wanted her to show love towards them.

“Freaking weirdos,” Chloe muttered as she sat on her bed. She put her left leg up, groaning in pain as she placed it on the bed. She stared at the bullet wound on her lap as she thought of how she was going to remove it. Surprisingly, this was her first bullet wound since she had started assassinating. Yes, she had gotten injured before. Stabbed, lacerated in many places and even burnt but this was her first bullet wound.

“How do they do it in the movies?” Chloe said as she unzipped her skirt pocket and brought out her phone. The phone screen was cracked but it still worked perfectly fine. She then went to her video player and scrolled down the list. She saw a video with the title ‘Rambo 3’ and played it.

After watching the scene where Rambo cleaned his wounds five times, she dropped the phone, stood up and limped into her bathroom.

“Step one, pour alcohol on the wound,” she said to herself as she sat on the toilet. “No alcohol up here so no need for that. Now step two, use your hands to pull out the bullet.” She took in a deep breath and put her fingers in the

She took in a deep breath and put her fingers in the bullet wound as she screamed.

“Are you okay, Chloe?” Dennis screamed from downstairs.

“I am most definitely fine, father,” Chloe screamed back.

“Okay, then. If you say so,” her father shouted. As Chloe was about putting her hand back in the wound her father shouted again, “hey, Chloe!”

“What in Jacobs name do you want?” Chloe screamed in anger.

“I just wanted to know where you kept the documents. You know, the ones you stole.”

“It’s in the freaking bag by the hallway,” Chloe screamed. “Now, leave me the fuck alone.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” her father replied. Chloe took another deep breath as she put her finger in the now bloody wound. She yelped in pain as her fingers came in contact with the bullet.

“There is no way in hell I’m doing this by myself,” she muttered and she limped out of the bathroom and headed towards the stairs.

“Hey, dad,” Chloe said as she stumbled into the sitting room.

“Yes, love,” her dad replied.

“Can you help with,” she pointed at the bloody wound, “this?”

Her father stared at the wound and muttered, “holy moly. That’s deep.”