The Assassin

Assassins don't always have the best timing. Or do they?

“I have nothing to apologise for,” said the assassin, her knife still dripping with her victim's blood.

“You just killed my date,” the woman replied. She was half-dressed, a blanket pressed against her chest for modesty. She hadn't cried yet. That was a surprise. The lovers usually bawled their eyes out. Then again, it was rare that an assassination had an audience. That was usually discouraged.

The assassin wiped the knife on her mark's blood-soaked shirt and sheathed it. “Lady, if you knew this guy at all, you would thank me.”

“What do you...” The woman trailed off as she watched the man's blood soak the mattress. The assassin had seen a lot of blood in her lifetime. She sometimes forgot ordinary people rarely saw it unless something was wrong.

“Pay attention to the news, love. It'll save you a headache.” The assassin crossed to the window through which she had entered. “Call the police if you must. They won't catch me.”

“Wait!”

The assassin paused, one leg slung over the window sill. “Christ, you're chatty for a murder witness.”

“I...” The woman steeled herself. “I only just met him tonight. In a bar.”

“I know.”

“You...? Right. You must have been tailing us.”

“Hookups with men are a gamble,” said the assassin, not bothering to confirm or deny the assumption. “Is he good in bed? Is he hopeless? Will he spend the whole night talking about his taxes? Is he a murderer searching for his next victim? Who knows? I just stick to women.”

“Was he?”

The assassin's lips twitched, but she wasn't about to just hand over the answer. “Be more specific, sweetheart.”

“A murderer. Was he a murderer?”

The assassin lifted her leg back inside. “Now that, my dear, is the right question. Yes. He was. Fancied himself a male black widow. You're welcome.”

“So you... saved my life?”

The assassin shrugged. “Probably. I can't read his mind.” She looked down at the corpse; it looked less like a person and more like a bad horror movie prop. “Not that there's much going on in there anymore.”

“Thank you,” the woman replied, her face pinching as if the words caused her pain.

“Don't mention it.” The assassin headed back to the window. “Well, you can if you like. I'll be long gone either way. Take care of yourself.” The assassin climbed out to the fire escape, her feet barely making a sound on the metal, and vaulted over the edge.

The woman rushed to the window and stared down to the street below. The assassin was gone.

Author's Note

Based on a Figment Daily Themes prompt: start with the dialogue "I have nothing to apologise for."

Reviews

[Lubed Up Larry]

Pretty good story, but I'd add some kind of twist at the end. A surprise.

The woman could have somehow picked up the knife during the discourse, and now her fingerprints are on it. The assassin, of course, notices this and leaves the girl "holding the bag" so to speak. The cops pull up, because the assassin anonymously called 911, and the woman is arrested!

Or, the woman turns out to be a cop, and when the assassin starts to climb out the window the woman says, "freeze, you're not going anywhere!" The assassin gets arrested for murder.