Coconut was not a good girl. She started off like that, like all girls do, but something along the way went terribly wrong.
This is not the story about that.
This is the story of how she received her first assassination target, how she blew the whole thing, and how she then blew him and fell in love with him.
You see, Coconut was not given that silly name, of course. She was named Akane, the brilliant red. Which turned out to refer to blood, it seemed.
Akane was sent to Santorini to crash a wedding. “Are you nuts?” She asked the man who briefed her. “I’m not Chinese, I’m Japanese.”
He shoved the kimono in her arms. “Isn’t it the same thing?”
“No!” she cried out, grabbing the kimono.
“Nevermind. The target has a thing for Japanese women. You’ll definitely grab his attention with that outfit.”
She squinted at him. “You know, for a handler, you’re not very informative. You should be forthcoming with such relevant info in the future.”
He rolled his eyes and turned his back at her. Turning your back on the very person you’ve hired to be your assassin is a serious power move. She needed to learn that trick, fast. And the accompanying trick of how not to get stabbed while doing so.
She turned to the wall of toys. There were guns lining the entire thing, high-powered rifles, Chinese lasers, some seriously futuristic looking gadgets. But a good assassin uses something she knows well, something reliable. Akane picked up her favourite pistol, a petite-
“No.” her handler deadpanned and grabbed it out of her hands, putting it back in its place in the wall of toys.
“What am I supposed to kill him with then?” Akane asked defensively.
“Your cunt,” the handler said with a shrug.
Akane’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me?” she squealed, misunderstanding the man.
“No, your. Cunt.” Her handler spoke out the words clearly. He produced a tiny little container. “Spread this around the walls of your, you know, and make sure his skin touches it. You don’t need to remove his condom or anything, just, you know, lift it up a bit, expose the base. Make sure it rubs on his skin well.” He showed her with his finger, he was helpful like that.
Akane wanted to kill him.
Huh, suppose that’s one way to kindle the murderous instinct into a newbie assassin.
She snatched up the container from his hands. It was a white paste in a fat syringe thing. It looked familiar for some reason. “Fine,” she hissed. “What about me? Won’t the poison kill me too?”
“Poison? No, that applicator is simply a concentrated dose of amoxicillin.
She frowned, thinking about it. “What’s that, an antibiotic?”
“See? You do know things. You’re not as vlaka as I thought. Yes. It won’t harm you. It will ruin your probiotic lining of your stomach though, you better have some afterwards.”
Akane rolled her eyes. “I see. Allergic reaction, what a nasty way to go…”
“Hey,” her handler said, sticking his thumbs inside his belt, “dead is dead. Doesn’t matter how you do it, as long as he stays dead and you don’t get caught.” He pointed at the wall of toys. “All this? Too flashy. The guns are untraceable and with filed off serial numbers, of course, but even getting caught with one will get you in trouble. But this? Antibiotics? Just say you had a UTI or something, nobody will even ask.
Akane nodded furiously. “Uh-huh. Okay. Okay… So, I’ll just go and assassinate the groom, armed with just a kimono and a UTI cream?”
“Pretty much,” her handler said and slapped her on the ass. “Now off you go.”
End of part 1.
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