Disclaimer: I do not own wanted.
Author's Note: This is my first fic. It's also my first story written in this format rather then a script. Therefore, I'm sure my writing skills have room to imrpove. Any advice and/or constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. If you see any repeated mistakes in my grammar that I'm making and do not believe that I realize my mistake, please, please, please point it out. Thanks for reading!
Dressed in a white dress and carrying a purse over her shoulder, no one suspected Fox of anything and she smiled slightly at the irony of it. It had been a long time since she had pretended to be normal. As she flipped through magazines, faking interest in the various headlines, she watched people walk by in her peripheral vision. No one in the pharmacy gave her a second glance.
Fox wondered who they thought she was. Perhaps they saw her as a teacher or a nurse. No, the bag she was carrying was too expensive for that kind of paycheck. So were the dress and the shoes, for that matter. Psychologists are paid well, right? Ha! The thought of her as a psychologist almost made her laugh out loud. Maybe they thought she was a lawyer. She could definitely pass for a lawyer.
As a young couple passed her, Fox wondered if they thought she was married. A quick glance to her naked index finger and Fox shook the idea out of her head. The idea was almost as ridiculous as her being a psychologist. Fox was the most dependable member of the Fraternity and her loyalty and devotion to it made her an outstanding member. That didn't mean she'd be a good wife. Or girlfriend, for that matter. In fact, she'd even be a terrible a group of teenage girls passed by, Fox overheard a few seconds of a conversation about how hot someone named Nick was. Fox wondered if she, herself, would have been one of them had her life had not arranged itself the way it had. Would she have been one of those teenage girls following fads and talking about boys and movies and love and celebrities? Would she and her friends do each other's hair and shop together? Fox couldn't see it.
Shifting her eyes to another magazine, Fox read the headline, which was about some lady with eight kids. God, did they think Fox was a mom? Fox's hand subconsciously dropped to her toned stomach as she thought about it. Those poor imaginary kids would have the worst mother. She couldn't be a mom. She would have to give it up for adoption or something. She couldn't bring a child into her life. Then again, would she be able to leave her own baby? She agonized over the fate of her imaginary child until a flash of blue caught her attention.
Right, she was here for a reason.
Fox did a quick scan of the store, looking as nonchalant as possible. She caught a quick glimpse of their target, who was dressed in a green jacked, as he weaved through the aisles. Two assassins in one pharmacy and no one suspected a thing. Ignorance is bliss.
She turned her attention to the man in the blue and recited his information in her head. His name was Wesley Allan Gibson. He was thirty two years old and lived with his girlfriend, Cathy, in a miserable loft that shook every time the train went by. She hated the apartment. He didn't care. She slept with his best friend. He didn't care about that either.
Wesley Allan Gibson was known to be a victim of some serious panic attacks. He was a pathetically stressed out young man who even had an ergonomic keyboard in his cubicle. As if working a cubicle wasn't bad enough. The panic attacks were the reason he was here, therefore, the reasons she was here.
Wesley turned and caught the eye of their target. Correction; Wesley turned and caught the eye of who will be his target. Now was her chance.
Wesley turned back around as the man ducked out of sight to find Fox leaning against the wall and watching him, standing uncomfortably close. He stared at her like a deer in the headlight as she watched him carefully. His hair was tousled from too much time spent running his hands through it and the bags under his eyes complimented his sickly skin tone perfectly. You could almost feel the insecurities and misery drip off him. For a second, Fox actually felt sad for him.
Just for a second, though.
Wesley continued to stare at her with wide eyes and jaw slightly agape as Fox leaned against the counter, looking effortlessly breathtaking. She continued to watch him silently, looking as confident and intimidating as he did insecurely and weak, until his brain began to work again.
"I'm sorry." He stuttered awkwardly.
"You apologize too much." Fox stated flatly.
Wesley stared at her for another moment, feeling even more awkward then he normally did around people, and shifted his feet before shrugging insecurely, the way he always did in similar situations.
"Well, I'm sorry about that."
Fox wasn't one for small talk. She studied him as he fidgeted, shoving money across the desk to the pharmacist as he returned with Wesley's meds. A slight smirk appeared on her lips as she watched him but she quickly shut it off. "I knew your father."
Wesley took the information in without looking at her as he stuffed the change in his thin wallet. Finally, he turned toward her. This time, he no longer gazed at her awkwardly or uncomfortably. Instead he looked at her like she was insane. "My father left the week I was born, so…" he trailed, off looking down.
Fox took a breath. "You're father died yesterday on the rooftop of the metropolitan building. Sorry."
Wesley spent a second looking at her astonished before laughing in disbelief. "Look, the liquor aisle is just over there so if you want to go…"
This time, Fox interrupted him. "Your father was one of the greatest assassins who ever lived. The man who killed him is behind you."
With that, Fox pulled out her handgun, grabbed Wesley by the collar of his shirt, and whipped him across the aisle.
Alright, that's it for now. Please tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!