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Description
The room was an old and long-abandoned den. It most likely belonged to a wealthy family and in its prime was probably a room to boast about with its well-crafted furniture. Chairs were carved with detail and painted in a deep red, that after several years of wear had fainted and chipped. A few paintings lined the walls, though there were obvious empty spaces and one could assume that the rest were taken by scavengers, most likely to be pawned off for much less than they were worth. Despite the dust and cobwebs, the room still had a calm, yet slightly eerie feel to it. It was designed to sit at least twelve comfortably, but as usual there was only one sitting there tonight. She sat with her back to the door, shotgun in her lap, watching the flames grow in the fireplace. She had always found something hypnotic about fire, so wild and powerful, yet so calming. In the center of the room, on a dark wood table was a briefcase. This was sole reason she sat here, to guard the briefcase with her life. A different night, a different briefcase, but always this room and this woman. Their contents were never disclosed. At first she had been curious, but after several years on the job, she simply accepted it as a mystery of life. Whatever was contented was very secretive and very sought after. The job was simple and straightforward and even though there was a lot of sitting around, there was certainly a good deal of action too. Sometimes she succeeded in her job, keep the briefcase safe, other times she failed. At times she wondered if it really mattered, either way there would just be another briefcase to guard the next night.
The young woman stretched her legs out and yawned, it was a slow night, no visitors yet. Sometimes in quiet moments like these, she pretended this room, this house, belonged to her. Instead of long pants and a vest, she would wear a dress and fancy hat. Instead of empty chairs, they would be filled with laughing and smiling guests. She would sit up straight and in her best British accent call to an invisible butler, “Excuse me, may I have more tea and biscuits?”. Then she would laugh to herself softly and shake her head. Maybe someday she would live like that, but certainly not tonight.
She was so lost her daydream, she did not notice the man who stepped slowly towards her. He watched from the doorway for a moment, smiled at the way she flipped back her dark brown hair, blissfully oblivious. He allowed himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to live in such a house, to come home to such a woman. Of course that would never be possible, and he knew it. He took several more silent steps towards her, pulled a pistol out from inside his suit, and placed it against her temple.
Her daydream was interrupted by the feeling of cold metal against her head. Her only reaction was to freeze and sigh in mild annoyance.

“You win again,” she said.
“When will you learn not to sit with your back to the door?” He scolded lightly, “I’m starting to think you are making it easy for me on purpose…”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. “No,” She said, perhaps too defensively, “I simply like watching the fire.”
He scoffed and a silence fell over the room again. He watched the light from the fire flicker on her round face. Smooth skin and pink lips.
“Well” She said after a moment, “I don’t have all day, are you going to shoot me or what?”
“That wouldn’t be very fun” He grumbled.
She turned her head towards him, essentially looking down the barrel of his gun, but wasn’t the least bit afraid. She inspected him for a moment. He wore his usual attire, a suit and balaclava. Through his mask she could see his eyes which looked like shiny blue marbles. She had often wondered what he looked like behind that mask, she wondered if she would ever find out. He was also covered in blood, most of which was not his own. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“I had some trouble getting to you” He admitted, “Which is why I want to enjoy this.”
She smiled at him. “You aren’t here for me, you are here for that” She nodded towards the briefcase. “Remember?”
“Of course” He said confidently.
“Of course” She echoed.

Without looking away from her, he took the shotgun from her lap, placed it on the floor, and sent it across the room with a kick. He removed the gun from her face, put in back where it belonged and helped her to her feet. He pulled out his butterfly knife, she produced her kukri from her belt and they stood at the ready in the light of the fire.

“Ladies first” He said. She nodded and took the first jab, one he easily dodged. Next he sliced and she countered, the sound of metal on metal filling the room. This went on for a while, a dance of sorts, each countering the other nicely so that after several minutes not much progress had been made. He was calm and collected, but she was growing impatient. He moved forward to strike and she moved to counter, but he turned suddenly and grabbed her weapon with his free hand, swiftly throwing it across the room. Now disarmed, she grasped, then frowned.
“You tricked me...” she whined.
“Don’t look so surprised, Sweetie” He stepped close to her, wrapped his arm wielding the knife around her and used his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Its what I do”.
She felt paralyzed by his touch and allowed herself to be pressed close to him. Both remained silent, there was no need for words. They simply stared into each others eyes and enjoyed the embrace.
He spoke softly, “You know how this has to end, don’t you?”.
She nodded, “I know.”
“Till next time?”
“Till next time.”

With that he leaned forward kissing her deeply and she held him close savoring his taste. The wonderful feeling from the kiss almost completely numbed the pain from the knife sliding into her back, so that she so didn’t make a sound, but went limp in his arms.

He gently placed her on the floor, giving her one last kiss and whispering, “See you soon, Mon amour.” He straightened his suit, picked up the briefcase and walked out.

Description
The room was an old and long-abandoned den. It most likely belonged to a wealthy family and in its prime was probably a room to boast about with its well-crafted furniture. Chairs were carved with detail and painted in a deep red, that after several years of wear had fainted and chipped. A few paintings lined the walls, though there were obvious empty spaces and one could assume that the rest were taken by scavengers, most likely to be pawned off for much less than they were worth. Despite the dust and cobwebs, the room still had a calm, yet slightly eerie feel to it. It was designed to sit at least twelve comfortably, but as usual there was only one sitting there tonight. She sat with her back to the door, shotgun in her lap, watching the flames grow in the fireplace. She had always found something hypnotic about fire, so wild and powerful, yet so calming. In the center of the room, on a dark wood table was a briefcase. This was sole reason she sat here, to guard the briefcase with her life. A different night, a different briefcase, but always this room and this woman. Their contents were never disclosed. At first she had been curious, but after several years on the job, she simply accepted it as a mystery of life. Whatever was contented was very secretive and very sought after. The job was simple and straightforward and even though there was a lot of sitting around, there was certainly a good deal of action too. Sometimes she succeeded in her job, keep the briefcase safe, other times she failed. At times she wondered if it really mattered, either way there would just be another briefcase to guard the next night.
The young woman stretched her legs out and yawned, it was a slow night, no visitors yet. Sometimes in quiet moments like these, she pretended this room, this house, belonged to her. Instead of long pants and a vest, she would wear a dress and fancy hat. Instead of empty chairs, they would be filled with laughing and smiling guests. She would sit up straight and in her best British accent call to an invisible butler, “Excuse me, may I have more tea and biscuits?”. Then she would laugh to herself softly and shake her head. Maybe someday she would live like that, but certainly not tonight.
She was so lost her daydream, she did not notice the man who stepped slowly towards her. He watched from the doorway for a moment, smiled at the way she flipped back her dark brown hair, blissfully oblivious. He allowed himself a moment to wonder what it would be like to live in such a house, to come home to such a woman. Of course that would never be possible, and he knew it. He took several more silent steps towards her, pulled a pistol out from inside his suit, and placed it against her temple.
Her daydream was interrupted by the feeling of cold metal against her head. Her only reaction was to freeze and sigh in mild annoyance.

“You win again,” she said.
“When will you learn not to sit with your back to the door?” He scolded lightly, “I’m starting to think you are making it easy for me on purpose…”
She felt her cheeks grow hot. “No,” She said, perhaps too defensively, “I simply like watching the fire.”
He scoffed and a silence fell over the room again. He watched the light from the fire flicker on her round face. Smooth skin and pink lips.
“Well” She said after a moment, “I don’t have all day, are you going to shoot me or what?”
“That wouldn’t be very fun” He grumbled.
She turned her head towards him, essentially looking down the barrel of his gun, but wasn’t the least bit afraid. She inspected him for a moment. He wore his usual attire, a suit and balaclava. Through his mask she could see his eyes which looked like shiny blue marbles. She had often wondered what he looked like behind that mask, she wondered if she would ever find out. He was also covered in blood, most of which was not his own. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“I had some trouble getting to you” He admitted, “Which is why I want to enjoy this.”
She smiled at him. “You aren’t here for me, you are here for that” She nodded towards the briefcase. “Remember?”
“Of course” He said confidently.
“Of course” She echoed.

Without looking away from her, he took the shotgun from her lap, placed it on the floor, and sent it across the room with a kick. He removed the gun from her face, put in back where it belonged and helped her to her feet. He pulled out his butterfly knife, she produced her kukri from her belt and they stood at the ready in the light of the fire.

“Ladies first” He said. She nodded and took the first jab, one he easily dodged. Next he sliced and she countered, the sound of metal on metal filling the room. This went on for a while, a dance of sorts, each countering the other nicely so that after several minutes not much progress had been made. He was calm and collected, but she was growing impatient. He moved forward to strike and she moved to counter, but he turned suddenly and grabbed her weapon with his free hand, swiftly throwing it across the room. Now disarmed, she grasped, then frowned.
“You tricked me...” she whined.
“Don’t look so surprised, Sweetie” He stepped close to her, wrapped his arm wielding the knife around her and used his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Its what I do”.
She felt paralyzed by his touch and allowed herself to be pressed close to him. Both remained silent, there was no need for words. They simply stared into each others eyes and enjoyed the embrace.
He spoke softly, “You know how this has to end, don’t you?”.
She nodded, “I know.”
“Till next time?”
“Till next time.”

With that he leaned forward kissing her deeply and she held him close savoring his taste. The wonderful feeling from the kiss almost completely numbed the pain from the knife sliding into her back, so that she so didn’t make a sound, but went limp in his arms.

He gently placed her on the floor, giving her one last kiss and whispering, “See you soon, Mon amour.” He straightened his suit, picked up the briefcase and walked out.