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BLUE SUN ROOM FAN FICTION - ADVENTURE
The Operative, formerly known as Abigail Penney, gets another assignment. A ficlet to follow First Kill. Read and be chilled. Feedback would be much appreciated.
CATEGORY: FICTION TIMES READ: 1064 RATING: 8 SERIES: FIREFLY
June 2525, Londinium:
“I’ve got a clean-up job for you.” Foley told her. The last time Abigail had heard those words she had been so excited. But she had failed at that assignment and it still niggled at her. She looked back at Foley showing nothing but confidence, uttering the same words as before.
“Send me the details in the usual way. I’ll take care of it.” Foley nodded at her stoically and cut the connection. It had been four months since her last clean-up job. Since then, all her assignments had been shadowing or bodyguard work. Thanks to her mother, she was only given bodyguard work spying on her rivals – finding a weakness that she could use against them when the time was right. It was soul destroying work, but that was nepotism for you. That’s how Abigail knew the extent of her failure. And now, it seemed, she was being given a second chance. As she ran her hands through her short curly hair the compad by her side beeped. She licked her lips in anticipation and pressed in the access code, listening to the readout.
“This is Arturo Finklemann, 52, largest shareholder in Allied Pipeworks Incorporated, living on Ariel. Your ident card and papers can be picked up in the usual manner. Eliminate him and his family with the minimum of fuss, details attached.” Abigail’s eyebrow raised. She knew the name from one of her previous assignments bodyguarding one of her mother’s rivals. Allied Pipeworks was one of Blue Sun’s main competitors. She sighed, realising for the first time that she wasn’t really an Operative – she was Blue Sun’s personal hit squad.
She got up and took a long shower before selecting a matching pair of bra and briefs of sky blue colour. Ariel was a number of days away by standard public transport, so she packed a small bag of clothing, nothing traceable. The weapons she selected were her favourite gun, the Parsons, three knives and their holsters; one went around her ankle, one at her waist and the other long thin stiletto nestled between her breasts. She would freely admit weapons turned her on - she didn’t need a psychiatrist to tell her whatever disorder or complex that was. It was the cold clinical metal of a well maintained gun or knife that did it for her. Women were supposed to favour poisons she’d heard once, but to Abigail there was nothing finer than her Parsons 12-Clip and her custom-made stiletto, which she’d named Flamenca, as the handle was fashioned in the vague image of a Spanish dancer. The knives were purely as a backup as they caused a lot of mess and she didn’t like mess – but they were all made out of non-detectable compounds so sometimes she could take them places where she couldn’t take the Parsons.
~ * ~
The Operative looked up as the Finklemanns came around the corner and headed to the lift. She sipped her coffee at the café table, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. As the lift door closed she took a small device from her pocket. She pressed the green button and put the device quickly back in her pocket. Abigail then left payment and a tip before leaving the table. As she reached the fifteenth floor staircase exit the alarms sounded in the busy shopping centre.
~ * ~
“…the Monument Valley Shopping Centre on Ariel, the wife and sons of Arturo Finklemann, majority shareholder in Allied Pipeworks Incorporated, were killed along with several others, when a lift malfunctioned and plunged fifteen floors. Investigators say it was the result of faulty wiring and a tragic accident…”
~ * ~
Arturo Finklemann didn’t really feel like doing work. But he couldn’t bear to be at home with the silence anymore. His wife may have nagged him more than the speaking clock, but he loved her. And their boys. The old statement held true, a parent wasn’t supposed to die before his children. There was a knock at the door which opened straightaway. The woman was tall and slim. She must be new but then again he had lost track of how many staff he had.
“Coffee, Mr Finklemann?” she said, the right amount of sympathetic understanding to her voice.
“Yes. Thank you.” He took a biscuit from the tray and swallowed it in one bite. “What’s with the gloves?” he asked, not really paying attention.
“I have a skin condition, Sir. I get self-conscious about it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for bringing it up. I –“ Finklemann started to cough and Abigail looked on. He grasped his throat, his eyes starting to bulge. Abigail looked at her watch, bored and waiting for completion. Finklemann reached for the com and she moved swiftly to intercept him.
“Nice and easy now, Mr Finklemann.” He was mouthing words at her but had no voice to be heard. Then his head thumped on the desk. She checked the pulse at his neck and, satisfied, took away the tray of coffee and biscuits, disappearing without a trace. Poison did have its uses.
~ * ~
Shuler Finklemann was nothing like his brother, though they looked similar in appearance. He had lived life to the full on the inheritance from their parents, a playboy, having no interest in business. At least not until his brother and family had died. Now he had to step up to the plate and keep things going or the family shares would be sold and likely the company too. Everything had happened so fast, first Elaine and his nephews two weeks ago. If they’d been the only ones in the lift, he might have thought it was deliberate, but they weren’t. And then his brother, a week ago dying from what seemed like a heart attack. Shuler shook his head and took another sip of his champagne. One last party before he put his business head on, he thought, opening the door on a noisy room.
“Shully!” squealed a young blond woman coming up to his side. “I thought you’d left me.” Shuler squeezed her waist. Being a relatively small man, her bosom was at his eye level and he would certainly enjoy the rest of her delights later. Then his eye caught another woman, dressed in a long black dress with a slit that went right up the side of her leg to her waist. The kind of dress that made a man wonder if she wore underwear. Shuler slapped Candy on the ass and told her to come and find him later. He walked over to the woman in black, taking another drink from a waiter’s tray on the way.
“My dear? Can I offer you a drink?” She reached one of her black gloved hands to take the drink, smiling sweetly.
“Thank you. Mr…?” Shuler’s expression showed surprise.
“Shuler. Shuler Finklemann.” Her momentary shock gave way to a warm inviting smile.
“You must forgive me, Shuler. A friend gave me her invitation. She described you as – well, not in a flattering light. I’m certainly glad that you’re nothing like her description.” She moved in closer to him. “Very glad.” Shuler found himself looking at her exquisite chest with its perfect skin. He looked up and into her dark brown eyes and his hand slipped around her waist. It didn’t take long for Abigail to persuade Finklemann to get her alone.
“I must say, I’m enjoying this last party of mine more by the minute.”
“Yes. As of Monday I’m taking up my brother’s position at Allied Pipeworks. Time I took control.” The Operative ran her satin-gloved finger along Finklemann’s jawline.
“How about I take control for now, Shuler?” She pushed him gently back on the large couch and unbuttoned his shirt. She followed him down, sitting astride him over his groin.
“Oh my,” was all he could say. His hand found her bare leg and he moved it upwards until he reached her hip. No underwear. “Gu nian zhong de gu nia.” Abigail put one of her long-gloved hands over his mouth to quiet him. With her other hand she unsheathed Flamenca and plunged it deep into Finklemann’s chest. He struggled wildly, but the heart was already giving out and moments later he was dead. She climbed off him and checked the blood spatter on herself. It was minimal and the black clothing didn’t show anything. She cleaned her knife on his clothing and put it back in its rightful place between her breasts, locking the door on her way out.
* * * * *
24245 – iron1,2,3,4,5E. Completion.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Author’s Note: For back story on Abigail Penney, read Shan Yu! I bite my thumb at you & Reavers Return from series 1 of my stories.
Not sure how well these ficlets are going down, so more detailed comments would really help me as I'm penning the next one as we speak. Pretty please :)
Tuesday, February 12, 2008 8:30 AM
Tuesday, February 12, 2008 8:32 AM
Tuesday, February 12, 2008 6:49 PM
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