The Assassin's Prophecy

Him

While eating a breakfast bagel, I waited in the hotel lobby for my favorite kidnappers to show up. Being a punctual person, I was already ready ten minutes prior to the time we agreed to meet. Oleg, Pavel, I, and a couple other Golden Eagle employees acted as a fake missionary group and were booked into the same hotel for appearances. Our plan was to convince the Leroy group to give donations for our cause and use that as an excuse to visit their mansion. Most likely they’d refuse, since we look like a small non-profit group not good enough for publicity, but that’s exactly what we want.

It would give us reason to visit them again and again. This would allow us to gain more intel in a direct, completely legal approach.

Eventually we know they’ll try to use security to get rid of us, but then their public reputation would be threatened. People would question how they, a super rich company, can cold-heartedly reject a good willed missionary group. Madam Ickha will use her influence to spread a few rumors through the media. They’d have no choice but to entertain us.

I finished the last of my bagel and wiped my hands with a tissue.

What's taking them so long? Are they having a karaoke session in their hotel room again? I caught them once when we were on a mission in Mongolia to recruit Bataar as one of our junior assassins. I never let them live down that moment. It was quite the blackmail material, recording them singing one direction in harmony.

I heard heavy footsteps approach me and two grunts.

"What took you guys so long? Did you finally get the lyrics right to what makes you beautiful instead of what makes you pitiful? I remember how passionately you were singing it to each other." I smirked as I recounted the memory of them singing 'that's what makes you pitiful' to each other and then feeling insulted about it.

"We agreed to never speak of that day." Oleg grumbled under his breath.

"An agreement has no value these days if there's no guarantee to abide by it."

"I gave you my last chocolate bar as payment, though." Pavel looked visibly regretful.

"Yes and I ate it so there's no more reason to stick to the agreement." Haha, dumbheads. All they are good at is kidnapping, not kid-negotiating.

"You're so annoying." Oleg muttered because he severely lacks in making good comebacks.

We got up to exit the hotel. We were planning to walk all the way to the location we were scouting. It was a fancy, well-reputed cafe located in the wealthier part of the city. We were supposed to spy on Trevor Adom, our target's right-hand man. We dug into his past and found that he was born in Ghana but became a naturalized citizen in France. He was a well-known prodigy in martial arts growing up. When he was at one of the international competitions for martial arts, he was found and recruited by the chairman of the Leroy group to be his son's personal bodyguard.

An impressive resume I must admit. It's not easy to be that talented in martial arts. But obviously I'm better. No one can beat me. Oleg told me that my ego was sky-high when I told him this, but he didn't disagree, did he?

A soft cool breeze tousled my hair as soon as we stepped out of the glass revolving door exiting the hotel. Sunlight slipped through the tree branches and filled the Parisian streets. Many bakeries and small stores were on either side of the narrow cobblestone road. I looked through the glass windows and saw mannequins clad in the latest fashion, delicious confectionaries, and souvenirs. The architecture showed layers of the city's history. From Gothic style, Renaissance style, and Classical revival buildings to modern day infrastructure, the city itself was a museum of sorts. I was no history wiz but it was interesting to learn about the origins of what we see.