Alice's Point of View
Running brown, the polluted Anacostia river filled Alice's peripheral vision. They were driving through the gentrified Capitol Riverfront where fancy restaurants coexisted with neglected, crumbling townhouses.
That's Washington right there, she thought. Nowhere else did the rich and poor rub shoulders so closely.
"This is a dump," Richard, Dick, complained. "Why are we here?"
"Hunting isn't an easy job, rookie," Alice told him, pulling her Toyama Caliber into the parking lot. "It takes preparation, knowing your target, knowing his natural habitat. The Hill is too noticable. Your training begins here."
Gratiano's Italian Bistro was a trendy outdoor eatery and popular lunch spot. Underpaid and overworked congressional staffers regularly made the trip down to the river for their tasty food at affordable prices. This wasn't a place to catch the movers and shakers, but their underlings? The invisible college kids that really did all the work in Washington? You could find plenty of them at Gratiano's, and more often than not the servant could lead you to the master.
Dick's nose wrinkled in disgust. "People actually eat here?"
"You'll get used to the river smell," Alice said easily as they sat down at a table, waiting to be served. "Here's your first lesson: sometimes you want to be spotted and sometimes you don't want to be spotted. It's counterintuitive, but it's easier to blend in outside. In the open air people aren't just looking at people, they're looking at the scenery, traffic, buildings, and where they're going. All kinds of people are passing by and going about their day. You forget somebody just as soon as they walk out of your line of sight.
"A confined space is totally different. It's private, controlled to a degree. Things are less busy, visually. People are static. You get noticed; you get remembered. We don't want that, not so early in the hunt."
"What's good here?" Dick asked, proving her point by watching the lazy river go by.
You better be listening, buddy. Your life might depend on it. "Everything's good here, rookie. They've got pasta, sandwiches, cute little desserts. The bread is especially good. I don't know what they put in it."
"I'll get a sandwich, then," Dick decided. "Why go to all this trouble? Wouldn't it be easier to swipe on Drillr until I find Connor?"
"Definitely not!" Alice corrected him. "The Corps has influence, but that kind of thing leaves a trail that's hard to cover up. You've got a Faraday case for your phone, right?" He'd better...
"Yes, yes," Dick assured her. "It was one of the first thing they said when they recruited me. Phones are too damn easy to track."
How the hell did they recruit this guy, anyway? Richie boy looked like a real lightweight. Usually the people in her organization were like her; they didn't exactly have a choice. If Alice was any kind of judge of character at all, she'd bet Richard wasn't being coerced. Was this a game to him? She wasn't fucking playing.
"It's the same reason we use secure rooms. The rooms are soundproof and block signals. Best of all? No body, no evidence. Once the cleanup crew leaves there is no trace of the target at all. They just 'disappeared'. Sometimes the disappearance isn't even investigated as a potential murder, which is ideal for our purposes. 'Security in obscurity', remember that, rookie!"
Dick held up his hands. "Okay, I get it. We don't just snipe targets because it's messy and public and draws attention."
He sounded like he got it. Alice hoped he wasn't just bullshitting her. They ordered their food: pasta for her and a sandwich for him.
"Second lesson," Alice segued once their food arrived, "there are only so many types in the district. Rich, poor, Democrat, Republican, people who want something, people who are stuck here, and so on. I could go on all day about Republican makeup vs. Democrat makeup, but that's not exactly relevant to you. You tell me, what do we know so far? Start with background on Lackland."
Richard took a bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing, he said, "Senator Lackland is a Republican, not an arch-conservative, though. Very establishment, moderate business type. It's how he got elected in Connecticut."
"But?" Alice asked leadingly.
"But getting outed for having an affair with a man would sink his career," Dick said after thinking for a minute. "A lot of these closeted guys hate themselves. They live a lie every day. Either he's full of self-loathing or he's such a sociopath living a lie every day doesn't bother him."
"Could be both," Alice said. "He lied to us at first, lied to the Corps, even though we were the only ones who could make his problem go away. Now, what about Connor himself?"
"Junior staffer, handsome guy," Richard said, turning slightly pink when he checked a picture on his phone.
This is a fucking problem! If you were attracted to your target, even a little, you'd hesitate.
Alice found her targets fucking repulsive. She loved hurting them, killing them. The buildup was so delicious. The joy, the desire, the satisfaction of sleeping with a beautiful woman turned to fear, pain, and the final release of death. Make a man think you want him, flatter his ego, string him along, and strike once he's at his most vulnerable. There couldn't be a punishment more satisfying. Cleansing herself with Alex afterward really rounded it all off. His love was the only pure thing. Everyone else was dirty.
Enough! She willed herself back to the topic at hand.
"Handsome?" Alice pressed.
"Hey, it's okay to look, right?"
"You know what we're going to do," she said. "Get your head in the game. Now continue. What else about Connor?"
"Er, well, Ivy League water polo player, real hunk." Dick showed her a picture on his phone.
With an effort of will, Alice kept herself from facepalming. This horny idiot was going to bungle the mission for sure. Then she looked closer. "Wait, give me that!" She snatched his phone.
Fuck...that's what water polo players looked like? His muscles were almost as big as her boyfriend's! Her boyfriend played football in college! They play fought sometimes and if Alex decided to hold her down there was nothing she could do to get out of it. This mission just got a hundred times more dangerous.
"Well, damn. You have any gay insight? This guy look like a top or a bottom? He seems like a top to me."
Richard hummed noncommittally. "You might think that, but some of these muscle types are actually subby."
Alice had to bite back a laugh. Alex was the same. She let him take the lead sometimes, keyword "let", but usually she was in control in bed, safer that way. It was one of things she loved about him. Her boyfriend never took more than she could comfortably give.
"Enough about his appearance," Alice said. "What can you tell me about Connor the person?"
"Just general stuff," Richard said. "He's a Republican staffer, a young one, fresh out of college. That could mean a lot of things. True believer? Family pressure? He's closeted, but not as deeply as Senator Lackland. Oh, and he needs money. People usually blackmail for money, right?"
"Among other things," Alice said. "Being closeted is going to make this harder. We can hardly expect a closeted Republican staffer to just show up in a gay bar. You're going to have to approach surreptitiously, with some deniability."
"I can butch it up a little," Richard said gamely. "I can do this, I swear!"
"Finish up your sandwich," she instructed. "This guy being big and strong warrants extra caution. It's room inspection time."
***
It was best that they weren't seen entering the Capitol Hill kill room together. They parked a decent walk away and took separate routes to the nondescript apartment building where their most high-profile victims entered, but never left.
While she waited for Richard to catch up she texted Alex.
"Working late again," she sighed. Poor baby. His asshole manager was really cracking the whip. Alice had offered to "intervene" but Alex begged her not to. She'd respect his wishes, but her patience had limits. Spending time with Alex was the only thing that made her happy. Once they'd saved up enough for a house maybe she could "retire" him to house husband status. He could work on open source stuff and tinker in the garage if he needed a creative outlet, no need to be an engineer for some bomb company.
Richard followed her into the kill room. "You're late!" she scolded.
"Didn't want to walk too fast and draw attention," he said by way of an excuse.
Ugh, fine! "Take a good look around, rookie. My makeup and outfit tips won't help you much, but everything else will be very relevant. Here's a hard-to-swallow pill for you: size matters! You are hunting a bigger, stronger man. If he grabs you, it's over. Even if he's drunk, even if he's drugged, he can probably still overpower your twink ass. You've got to get him in the restraints ASAP!"
She indicated the bed with her hand and Richard followed along with his eyes. "Just like that?"
"No, not just like that. We're going to practice, again and again." Alice fell backwards onto the bed and let her arms fan out. "Get on top of me and practice slipping the restraints on without me noticing."
This was going to suck. At least the guy was skinny and his weight wasn't crushing her.
They did it again and again, him on top, her on top, hands above her head, hands at her side, every conceivable way to do it. Dick was a clumsy disappointment at first but eventually he figured out how to be subtle about it. "In a real scenario you'd be making out and dry humping while you were doing this, undressing the other person can also help conceal what you're doing. Remember, slow, gradual, but don't hesitate when the time comes. Smooth is fast, remember that! Smooth is fast!"
"Smooth is fast," Dick repeated.
"Good," Alice acknowledged his efforts. "All you have to do is bring Connor here and secure him, but if you want to take the next step..."
Alice pressed a little crease in the headboard and a spike popped out. The rookie jumped back like a scared kitten.
Yep, soft as warm butter.
"This is good for a quick kill. Cup his cheeks, pick his head off the bed and slam him down right on the spike! It's a quick death for when you don't want to waste time."
Richard visibly paled.
"There are plenty of other concealed weapons," Alice went on. "See that box of tissues on the side table? They're drugged. It's not instant. A good way to do it is to say 'hey you've got something on your face' and wipe the target with a tissue. He'll be woozy within a minute. And be careful about touching your own face afterward!"
Richard nodded furiously.
Good, he's really listening, Alice thought. She ran a hand underneath the mattress. "Here, feel this," she instructed.
"That round bit?" Dick asked curiously.
"Yep, twist and pull."
He did so and his hand came back with an ice pick that he immediately dropped in surprise. It clattered noisily and Alice smirked at his ineptitude.
"There's more," she said. Systematically and by the numbers, Alice went over it all: the other blades, the garrote in the bedpost, the spare restraints, and the emergency taser in the hidden side compartment of the bedside table.
"Lot of tools, lot of options," she said sagely. "If you've got a piece on you, you could also just blow his brains out when he's got his back turned, but you'd have to be carrying, and with the Clayton administration's new gun laws, packing a piece in the district is a real risk."
"I've never shot a gun, anyway," Dick admitted.
"Then forget it. Every evening for the foreseeable future you're going to be out hunting and I'll be here waiting. Remember, you don't have to finish the target off. Just get him here and restrained and I'll do the rest."
***
Two weeks, it'd been two weeks. For two weeks Dick had gone out every night, hitting up every bar within walking distance of Capitol Hill. She couldn't even text Alex because the kill room blocked cell phone signals.
I'm so bored! At least she had plenty of reading material. Spicy romance novels were a guilty pleasure, especially the kind with strong, dominant female leads. It was research!
One night she was reading a scene where the heroine forced her lover to give her head in the shower and fantasized she was doing the same with Alex. He'd like that, she thought. He likes pleasing me. I wonder if-
The closed circuit camera at the front of the building showed two young men approaching: a skinny twink (Richard) and a big buff guy.
Got you, Connor!
Palming a knife, she hid in the closet.
The guys stumbled through the doorway and were instantly making out. Alice tried not to look directly at the action.
Okay, Dick, just get the restraints on him...
But he didn't get the chance. Connor was on his knees blowing Dick and from the sound of things he was good. The rookie was moaning in ecstasy.
"Oh, god, fuck, Connor!"
Wet slurps and glucks and moans made Alice feel real uncomfortable in that closet.
Get on with the foreplay, geez...
But it wasn't foreplay. Richard came audibly and Connor stood up like he was ready to leave.
"Where are you going?" Dick whined, his voice colored by alcohol and sexual satisfaction.
"Sorry, dude. I like to give instead of receive. Blowing guys is my thing. It's been fun, but I actually have an early day tomorrow, so..."
Fuck!
It was now or never. Alice burst out of the closet knife in hand.
"Who the fuck are you?" Connor asked, too surprised to be afraid.
With no hesitation, Alice lunged forward and stabbed him, in and out, nice and deep, one, two, three, four, five times.
"Alice, fuck!" Dick screamed.
The target didn't even cry out in pain. Stabbings often had something of a delayed reaction. Connor stumbled around the room in a daze before a sudden drop in blood pressure made him collapse.
"Oh god! Oh fuck! You killed him!" Dick sounded hysterical.
"Not yet," she said simply. Alice watched him bleed out while the rookie blubbered on the bed, his spent cock hanging limply. "Pull your pants up," she ordered, disgusted.
"But you just, just like that! I didn't know it would be like that! You just-"
"Shut the fuck up, rookie. Help me get this guy out of the doorway."
Blood was pooling now. It was good the floor of the kill room had a drain. With regret, Alice realized she didn't feel the usual post-kill spike of lust for her boyfriend.
It's a process. That's what Dahlia said. I can get used to this, she vowed.
"You can take the first shower, rookie. I'll give you a C+ for mission barely accomplished."