She called herself Scorpio, because that was her birth sign. She was born in the year of the dragon, and beneath the ice cold surface of her contract killer persona; her rage burned.
She pressed the warm barrel of the silencer into the nape of her intended victim’s neck; and gently squeezed the trigger, extinguishing another flame.
She always made sure that her ordinance was at body heat, as she didn’t want to pre-empt the shock of the kill. She wanted the bullets’ kiss to be the only warning of execution.
Scorpio was a consummate professional, whose unrivalled expertise, came at an unrivalled price.
She never failed; her bullets always hit their target.
Those she was paid to execute were slain; those she was paid to wound or maim were duly scarred.
She never shied away from her obligations; even if the job required scything down a prominent politician in the full glare of the media circus.
As you might expect, Scorpio was a bit of a loner. However, for a woman of her employ, she had a rather unusual hobby.
She was hooked on Friends Reunited: she never missed the opportunity to catch up with people she had been to school with; No matter what far flung corner of the planet they had ended up in; she always managed to hunt them down.
Her job presented her with plenty of travelling opportunities, and she had boundless free time, to match her seemingly inexhaustible energy.
Usually she met up with them in a bar, or a café, over a few drinks to help loosen their tongues. Some were quite happy to blab all of their innermost secrets to her; just glad of a familiar face from the past to unburden themselves on. When you have risen to the top, climbing over the backs of your former friends and colleagues, true friends are often in short supply. So it’s great to talk to someone from school; even if you can’t quite place the tall dark haired beauty, with the piercing green eyes, in the end of year photograph. For those who were more circumspect about their affairs and dalliances, there was always Rohypnol; which worked a treat every time. It never failed.
After they spilled their guts in public, and she was confident that they were completely whacked; she’d lure them off to somewhere quieter for the kill. They never heard her unpacking her equipment; lock and load; by then they were oblivious to the shots. She packed up her equipment, let her hair down, and calmly walked out of the apartment, slipping unnoticed by CCTV, or concierge.
That she could combine her hobby with her job, was something of a plus. However, her job didn’t give her the same degree of satisfaction that she was getting from extinguishing the high and mighty.
She had had been scouting the kill zone for her next contract, immediately before she flew back for the school reunion. This was the first one she had ever been to, and she was determined that she was going to make a splash.
An entrance that would never be forgotten.
She was late, but she could have caught an earlier flight if she had wanted
As she walked in the entrance hall at quarter to nine, dragging behind her an enormous aluminium suitcase which was packed with enough explosive material to destroy everyone in the whole building. The school would be left in ruins, and she would let her hair down, and stride from the scene revelling in the glow of the flash bulbs and the assembled media.
Jacosta jostled her way to the front of the throng of the surviving old girls who were waiting to greet her. “Tanya darling, how lovely to see you. I’ve read all of your books. Scorpio is such a super cold bitch; I do hope you didn’t model her on me”.
Tanya cut her short “No she’s modelled on me. And the people I kill in my books are people like you. In fact I disliked you so much I’ve killed you twice! But you’re too up your own arse to even realise it.”
Jacosta was taken aback “… b but I thought we were friends, we had a great night in Riyadh, we got totally wasted.”
“I think you’ll find that I was stone cold sober”
Tanya was playing with her now, just like Scorpio did, just like her cat did with the mice it brought in from the fields.
She opened up her large case and fished out a stack of DVD’s; announcing to her confused audience: “You all know me for being a famous writer, and some of you have made your way into my books as Scorpios victims; but this is something different”.
She Frisbee’d DVDs out across the room.
“Each and every last one of you has made you way onto this documentary. It’s about how people can overcome relentless bullying at school, and still make a successful career for themselves. And you are all the stars of this film.
I haven’t put words into your mouth, or edited it too alter the context of what you have said. But each and every last one of you has detailed how you bullied me at school; how you still bully people at work, all the dirty tricks you have pulled to rise to the top.
You have talked candidly about your affairs, your drink and drug habits, and what you really think of the people you work for”
Time was standing still, no one was talking.
“This documentary is being broadcast on Channel 4 tonight at nine o’clock, so there’s no point in calling your expensive lawyer boyfriend, or sugar daddy high court judge: It’s too late for an injunction”
The clock in the school tower prepared to strike nine, and coolly she surveyed the devastation.
“You have reaped what you have sown: didn’t your vacuous glossy lifestyle magazines tell you; you should never cross a Scorpio.
She kicked the suitcase over, spilling its contents over the highly waxed parquet flooring. The clock chimed as she let her hair down, and strode from the scene, revelling in the glow of the flash bulbs and the assembled media who were now encamped on the school steps.