Hitman

I pulled into Rahmi’s favorite diner and walked in. I saw her before she saw me. She was incredible, wearing a midnight blue dress that hugged her figure a little too much. Not that I was complaining.

I walked over and slid in across from her. She smiled brightly at me.

“Hey, Jeremy! Thanks for meeting me.” she said cheerily, and gave my hand a quick squeeze.

“It’s no problem, Rahmi. Really.” I promised. She nodded.

“I have business to discuss with you, but that’s not great dinner talk.” Rahmi admitted. I laughed.

“You’re right. How’s your pursuit of Antifreeze going?” I asked curiously. Rahmi playfully slapped my arm.

“I said no work talk.” she smiled warmly, and I got very warm inside. And down yonder.

“Alright, then. What do you want to talk about?” I lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, how’s the modeling agency?” Rahmi asked politely.

“It’s fine. Nothing too exciting, just pushing papers around, talking with pissed off agents who think they represent the next big Alana Hart or something.” I shook my head. Alana Hart was arguably the most famous model in the current day. She was young and beautiful, though I personally preferred Rahmi’s more exotic looks.

“That’s why I don’t work.” Rahmi winked.

“Drinks?” a waitress asked, walking up, a smile **** onto her face.

“I’ll take a water.” Rahmi smiled.

“I’ll do a lemonade.” I added. The waitress nodded and walked off. Rahmi shook her head.

“What? If life gives you lemons.” I shrugged.

“Huh? No, not you. Look!” Rahmi said, and pointed to a man I didn’t recognize. But I did recognize the swirling tattoo cropping up from his shirt collar.

“What’s Vortex doing here?” I whispered to Rahmi. Vortex was a highly sophisticated crime syndicate, and the actual work behind Vortex Technologies, owned by a Dr. Wesley Port. Their logo was a big, swirling vortex, and was pretty distinguishable.

“Who knows? Snack break?” Rahmi suggested warily.

“Concerned by the patronage?” the man behind Rahmi asked us. I realized abruptly we were both staring at the Vortex member.

“He looks shifty.” I blurted.

“I happen to agree. Which is why I’ve called the police.” the man said, and something about the way he said that felt off. Rahmi and I exchanged glances, before there was screams. Rahmi and I turned to the window, and saw a police car barreling towards us. Rahmi and I flung ourselves out of our booth, going sideways as the man stepped back and the car crashed through, totaling our booth.

I looked to see if Rahmi was injured, and found the man walking slowly towards her. I ran at him, and leaped on his back, but suddenly he wasn’t there. I whipped around, and found myself staring down a barrel of a gun. A police cosplayer was holding it, and I was stuck. I wasn’t bulletproof, unfortunately. I put my hands up warily.

He glanced at the man, who was kneeling over Rahmi, who was ****. Barely even thinking, I spun around and caught the man in the chest with a kick, and somehow ducked under the shotgun slug. I kicked the gun-toting man in the chest, too, and grabbed the collar of the man who’d knelt over Rahmi.

“Who are you?” I asked him forcefully. He blinked.

“I am Phantom Knife.” he whispered, and was suddenly... gone. I turned back to Rahmi, and knelt beside her. The diner broke into cheers, and I looked around as the actual police arrived. I shook Rahmi awake, and she groaned.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You hit your head on the floor.” I explained.

“Yikes. What was the deal with the car?” she asked.

“I think they were after you. I just got in the way, it looked like.” I shrugged. Rahmi bit her lip, a thing she did frequently when thinking, but I found it very sexy.

“We need to talk, then.” she said, and stood up, brushing dust off her dress, and took my hand, and led me away from the diner.

———

Twenty minutes later, Rahmi and I were sitting on the hoods of our cars, talking. She’d changed out of her dress and into a white tank top and ripped jeans.

“Let me explain what the problem is. A few nights ago, I was working the Antifreeze case, when I heard on the police radio that a superhero was down. I thought it was the same thing that happened two years ago, with Cloak and Dagger. But the superhero wasn’t the target. The target was Emilie Seacrest.” Rahmi explained.

“The daughter of that rich real estate mogul?” I frowned.

“Yes. And since then, three other daughters of wealthy men have died. I guess I’m next on his hit list.” Rahmi said with a nervous laugh.

“How did the daughters die?” I asked.

“Needle to the neck, probably poison or something.” Rahmi shrugged. I leaned over and touched her neck, feeling for a puncture hole.

“Checking to see if I was poisoned?” Rahmi teased, batting her eyes.

“Yes, actually. He was kneeling over you for a fair amount of time.” I admitted.

“I’m fine. The poison he used is quick acting and very painful. I would know if I was stabbed.” Rahmi assured me.

“Yeah, yeah.” I grinned. She slid off her car’s hood and walked to the edge of the cliff, where Monarch City was glowing, stretching on for as long as we could see. I joined her.

“So what do you need me to do?” I asked her. She gave me a playful smile.

“I need a bodyguard, considering I have to be the bait, and I can’t be Voltage and Rahmi at the same time. Know any superheroes who are interested?” Rahmi asked.

“Really? Me? Isn’t there someone else you’d rather pick?” I asked, disbelieving.

“I pick you. I trust you, a lot. You know? We’ve been through a lot. You even got a code name themes around moi.” Rahmi said seriously. She put her hand on my shoulder.

“Please?” she whispered.

“Of course.” I smiled.