Amber remembered her last day on the job. She’d taken a room in a inconspicuous hotel not too far away from the open stage. She remembered drinking a pack of orange juice, just as she did before every job. It had never failed her, until now.
She’d taken the bubblegum from her pocket, chewed it for a while and blew two bubbles and spit it out. It was routine, something she’d done ever since her first kill.
She set up the sniper rifle by the window and switched on the tv set in the room. The live coverage of the politician’s speech was on. Amber was subconsciously aware that something was wrong with her hands. They were shaky, and her hands were never shaky.
Marcos Fila, a South American presidential candidate whose words had the ability to move people. This was to be his last day on earth. Just as he started to get the crowd excited, Amber pulled the trigger.
The man was still standing. The bullet had not hit its target, and the security personnel were on full alert now. They proceeded to secure the area, and Amber got out of there as discretely as she possibly could.
It didn’t matter to her agency that she hadn’t gotten caught. She’d botched up and that was it. She had been their best agent once, her boss explained to her, but her time was up. She could either retire or be fired. She had gotten too old, he had told her condescendingly. He had smiled as he told her that. Well, she thought to herself now as she watched reruns of lame reality shows, he couldn’t smile anymore, could he?
An advertisement appeared on the show. Killzone- kill and be killed. A reality show. Her heart skipped a beat. This was just what she was looking for. Something that finally inject the excitement in her life. She had a lot of money, but it was of no use to her. She hated the easiness of it all. She wanted some tension, some color, some chaos. Maybe Killzone could give her just that. And who could be a better competitor than a professional assassin?
Brenda sometimes wished she’d never run away from the orphanage. There were no rules on the street, which gave her freedom, but there was also nothing else. No food, no money, no comfort, no friends. She was completely alone.
She’d run away from the orphanage at the age of fifteen. She was a rebel and could not stand rules, no matter how reasonable they were. She hated it when the parents came to observe her and didn’t take her home, like they thought that she was a defective product. When she reached fifteen, she realized she was too old for anyone to want to adopt her.
She was seventeen now. A lot had happened in those two years. She’d learned what life was really like on the outside. There were no good people out there. The true human nature was only exposed when all the barest of necessities were taken away from them. Brenda had learned that human beings would resort to anything for survival. This upset her to no end at first, but then she became one of them. She’d stole a high-quality knife from a shop, and that had been her source of income.
The first time she’d tried to mug someone, the guy had laughed at her. She was a fragile teenager who looked anything but threatening, and he was a burly, thirty-something with a hundred pounds over her. He threw her against a building and walked away, still laughing to himself.
That was the day Brenda realized no one would take her seriously if she tried mugging them. She tried pickpocketing after that, but she simply could not get the hang of it. She’d gotten caught a couple of time and spent some time in juvenile prison.
Finally, she’d resorted to sneaking up behind unsuspecting victims in dark streets and stabbing them. The first time she’d done it, it had been a bloody mess. The man had almost choked her to death as she stabbed him to death. As she repeated her actions, she achieved perfection through practice, but she could feel herself losing her soul in the process of simply getting a few bucks.
Then she saw the poster on the building. Killzone, a unique reality show. No application fee necessary, all she needed was an interesting back-story to capture the sympathy or the interest of the audience, and boy, did she have one. Only one of two things could happen- either she would end up with all the money and things she would ever need and be pardoned for her crimes, or she would end up dead. At the moment, Brenda had no problem with either.