The Hunted Assassin (4 page)

“All right then. I wish you well, Martin. And before you get too far down your path, you might want to make a stop by the doc’s office. That stab wound on your shoulder looks pretty severe.”

“Will do, nurse,” Jaxon said, winking at her.

Without another word, Jaxon turned and walked out the door.

5

Jaxon stood in the shadows of a synthetic Beachwood tree and surveyed the landscape ahead of him. The simulated environment lighting was set to synchronize with the time zone of earth below, which happened to be just before 9 PM. Through the dimness of the various streetlights, level seventeen appeared deserted, with most of the inhabitants likely to be at the Founders Day celebration.

The area right near Jaxon’s apartment was wide open, giving little to no coverage for a stealthy approach. From years of experience, an ambush scenario should be expected. Time was of the essence, as the multiple weapons discharge alarms blaring across the station would certainly make for a difficult escape.

He adjusted the strap on his shoulder bag and slipped his hand inside his jacket and gripped his pistol firmly.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered as he took a solitary step toward his front door.

The repetitive crack-crack-crack of what must have been an illegal railgun echoed throughout the three-story courtyard.

Jaxon dropped to the ground and rolled beneath a park bench for protection. Slowly, he inched himself forward until he had a clear view of where he thought the shots came from. Second level balcony—he spotted the new assailant. He was kneeling at the edge of the guardrail, a reflective glint bouncing off of his night scope. It was pointed directly at Jaxon. He knew that if there was one, there were probably more. Just how many, he couldn’t guess. He also knew that they wouldn’t stop coming until he was dead. That’s the way he would’ve done it and that’s what worried him the most.

Sliding back beneath the bench, Jaxon removed his satchel and rummaged through the contents. From the bottom of the bag, he withdrew his MP-96 and checked both clips—they were full, with one in the chamber. He flipped on the infrared laser scope and peered through the magenta eyepiece. The off-colored lens allowed him to see the invisible target almost as clear as day. He raised the barrel up and to the left until there was a solitary dot on the chest of the second-floor assailant. Calmly, he exhaled, completely, then squeezed the trigger. A single projectile shot ahead and eliminated the threat, only millimeters off of its mark. Jaxon quickly chambered a new round and began to scan for more assassins. He waited for another discharge alarm, but it never came.

Before Jaxon could locate another target, one of the residents of his quad came out of her apartment, no doubt drawn out by the clamor. It was Mrs. Jarvis, a reporter for the Taloo Tribune. Jaxon wanted to yell out to her, to get back inside, but it was too late. A sniper on an upper-level balcony—just up and to his right—took her out, placing a well-aimed round into the middle of her forehead.

Where the hell were the alarms?
he wondered. He wasn’t completely disappointed by their absence, giving him a potential edge on escaping the station, and certain death, but they should have been blaring nonstop now. Unless … they were disabled.

Jaxon rolled out from beneath the bench and into the clearing. In a swift, fluid motion, he raised the barrel of his gun up to where he thought the second assassin was. The killer was right where he’d expected. Jaxon flipped the pistol into automatic and placed three rounds into the side of his neck, nearly severing his spine with the last penetration. The killer dropped to the ground, lifeless.

Rapid fire shots then began to echo throughout the courtyard from multiple locations, all focused on Jaxon’s position. Jaxon scrambled to his feet and bolted for the cover of the balcony above. He landed, his back plastered on the wall directly beneath one of the other shooters. In the distance, just around the corner of the center cluster of units, he saw a shadow move briefly. Jaxon raised his MP-96 once again and fired two shots in that direction. The first shot went wide, but the second entered the killer’s right eye socket, blasting blood and brain matter outward.

Jaxon inched forward, about half the distance to the edge of the balcony above, and pointed his weapon up. Then, he took another half step forward and saw the face of the assassin staring back. Before the man above could withdraw, Jaxon squeezed the trigger, obliterating the forehead of the killer.

“One more,” Jaxon said as he expertly reloaded his rifle. He knew the final assailant—hoped the final assailant—was to the left and behind a refuse bin. Jaxon took two steps to the right and then reentered the open courtyard, his weapon held steady in front of him. With his stance low to the ground, Jaxon continued walking in that direction. When he reached the middle of the open courtyard, several flashes of light came from the killer’s direction as his semi-automatic assault rifle launched several rounds toward him. Jaxon dropped to the ground but not before returning fire, taking out the final assassin with ease.

Jaxon ran to the last fallen body and kicked his weapon out of his hand. He was still breathing but just barely.

“Who sent you?” Jaxon demanded.

There was no response, his eyes quickly losing signs of life.

“How many more are there?” Jaxon asked. “Give me something useful, and I might let you live.”

Again, no response. The killer took his last breath, his eyes settling into a sightless gaze.

“Dammit,” Jaxon shouted. He holstered his MP-96 and raced toward his apartment. He was still several meters away when he heard the familiar clank and wine of the timeworn elevator come to a halt just to his right. Jaxon sprinted in between the garbage chute and a public recharge station and ducked out of sight.

The doors parted, but nobody got off the lift. Not at first. A cylindrical object flew out of the elevator door and landed near the middle of the courtyard. Moments later it began to spew a green-tinted fog.

Jaxon instantly recognized the smokescreen grenade and cursed beneath his breath. He was close, but wasn’t going to get in without a fight. If he could just get inside his flat, he’d have everything he needed to hold off virtually any opposing force that came at him. He leaned out briefly to see his apartment door creak open. He realized at that moment that there would be no gaining access to the place he called home ever again.

He slinked back into his hiding space and quickly drummed up a new plan. The stairwell entrance was just a few meters to his left, and with the right distraction, he thought he could make it. Once inside, he’d expand on his plan of escape.

Without hesitation, Jaxon emptied all five grenades from the launcher at various positions throughout the habitation quad. The last shot he fired directly at the closing doors of the elevator, where the majority of the killers still stood. He could just make out the faint silhouettes through the fog. As each grenade began to detonate in rapid succession, Jaxon bolted from his hiding place and ran toward the park bench to reclaim his satchel. As he scooped it up from the ground, he saw three assailants lying awkwardly on the ground, decimated by the grenade blasts. There were two more fleeting through the fog, toward his apartment door.

Great,
Jaxon thought. Out of sight—out of mind. They didn’t even see him as he barreled into the exit stairwell.

---

Jaxon began taking the stairs two steps at a time as he reloaded his MP-96 and extra clip before slipping it back into his holster. As he ascended the stairwell, his mind replayed the events of his last few hours. He could not comprehend how he’d been able to live in secrecy for eight long years, then suddenly, have a whole team of assassins show up at his doorstep. They knew everything about him, where he worked—where he lived.
Have I gotten sloppy?
he wondered.

At level fifteen, Jaxon slowed his pace and inched up to the access door. Silently, he twisted the handle and pulled the door open an inch. Sector 15 was virtually identical to his own habitation level, and it was equally quiet. He re-latched the door and leaned into the center of the stairwell and listened intently. He tried to hear if there were any other footsteps on the stairway in either direction.

Silence.

He decided to go up two more levels, then he could reenter the streets of the station, and hopefully gain access to a lift that would take him to the promenade.

Nearing the limits of his exertion, Jaxon arrived at level thirteen, stepped out, and came face-to-face with one of the most beautiful women that he’d ever seen.

“Hi there, handsome. And you looking for a good time?” the voluptuous auburn-haired woman asked, wasting no time on pleasantries.

Realizing that he’d emerged in the entertainment district, which was known for its adulterous ways, he declined politely.

“Perhaps another time,” he said, stepping around her, truly hating life right then.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she hollered after him but refused to give up her position near the stairwell.

Jaxon slowly maneuvered through the crowd of scantily clad women and potential buyers until he caught sight of the elevator. He quickly changed direction and headed straight for it. As he did so, he inadvertently bumped into another prostitute.

“Pardon me,” he said as he stepped around her and continued on his path.

“It’s all right, I was only
borrowing
this particular spot until you came by,” she said, sarcastically.

“Excuse me?” Jaxon asked, not sure he understood her.

“No, no. You appear to be in a hurry, and I don’t want to take any more of your time, as it looks like you are in search of a friend,” she said, again causing bewilderment to overcome Jaxon.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her fully. Jaxon wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had frequented the entertainment district a number of times over the years, and each visit meant nothing to him except for the release. Human nature demanded it, and who was he to question that? But, through all those visits, he’d never encountered a creature such as this.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he asked.

“I said that you appeared to be looking for a friend and were in a rush. Are you so sure that your friend isn’t right here in front of you?” she asked.

Jaxon contemplated her words. Her approach was definitely worthy of consideration, but his time was limited. Just as he was about to reject her, something flashed in his mind. Something about what she said.
Was he looking for a friend?

“No? I guess I’m not the friend you’re looking for,” she said as she began to turn walk away.

Another great tactic on her part. Playing hard to get.

“As a matter of fact, I am looking for a friend,” Jaxon said, realizing that she would be the perfect cover for him. The assassins were clearly looking for a single man and not a couple. He would just need her companionship until he got to the space dock.

She froze and turned her purposeful pouty face in his direction. “I don’t know.” She paused. “How do I know you’re not just saying that to get me in the sack?”

“Well, that’s a chance you’re gonna have to take. I was thinking of taking a trip up to the promenade for an hour or so. Interested?” Jaxon asked.

A look of confusion crossed her face. “So, you really don’t want to get me in the sack? You do know what this place is, right?”

“Oh, yes. I know. It’s just that, first, I want to take in a little of the festivities, and I would like to have you as my friend and companion for the next hour. After that, I’m game for whatever you have to offer.”

She moved intimately closer to Jaxon and slipped her arm through his. “It sounds like a wild time, sugar. But, as you know, I work by the hour and …”

“Say no more,” Jaxon said as he slipped out a few hundred credits from his pocket and held them in front of her. She greedily swiped them from his hand, depositing them into her cleavage.

“Okay. Let’s go have that blast that you’re so looking forward to,” she said as she led him to the elevator.

6

As they waited for the elevator, Jaxon hoped that there wouldn’t be any uninvited guests waiting for them when the doors opened. Encountering more assassins just then would have really pissed him off.

Thankfully, when the buzzer sounded, and the doors parted, they were greeted with an empty elevator car. Jaxon led his companion in and pressed the button for the promenade level. The doors closed, and they were whisked up the dozen flights quickly.

“Tell me, sugar. Who do I have the pleasure of spending time with?” the hooker asked.

Jaxon didn’t hesitate. “Name’s Martin. But my friends call me Marty.”

“It’s a pleasure, Marty,” she said as she slid her arms around his chest. “My name is Starr, just like in the sky. And you know what?”

“What’s that, Starr?” Jaxon bit.

“You know what my friends call me? They call me Starr,” she said, giggling at her attempt at juvenile humor.

Jaxon chuckled politely as the elevator slowed for their arrival. When they stepped out onto the promenade level, the Founders Day celebration was in full swing. The lights were dimmed, and various strings of colored festival lights were strung throughout the tall rotunda. Rhythmic music filled the air from the live band at center stage. The frivolity-laced dance floor circled the band and was filled with hundreds of station residents, who thrust and gyrated to the music.