• Midnight was a tall, thin women who never really took orders, but when the opportunity to work for one of the most feared assassination corporations, she couldn't' say no. They had her kill many men, women, and children alike and without hesitation she did so. Now she was after a man who had been on the run from them for some time and she was able to track him to a forgotten city in the Sahara Desert.

    It was a ghost town now which mad it the perfect hiding place. She walked slowly past the many abandoned buildings. A cool breeze swept by the uncovered portion of her face and she pulled the blue robe around her tighter continuing to walk. Looking at her watch she stopped outside an old hotel. Lights could be seen from inside, but it appeared that nobody was in the lobby. Midnight held up a photograph of a young man, studying his features. He was worth a lot of money and she had a feeling she would not be the only assassin to show up that night. She had to be perfect.

    The wind became still as Midnight gently opened the door, moving into the lobby. She let the door close quietly before looking around. The place was a mess with broken chairs and tables scattered around the floor, and it had appeared that nobody had been there for years. So why is the light on? She asked herself, looking around for the light switch. Walking up to the desk, she noticed a panel of switches covered in dust. An evil grin etched upon her face when she saw that there was one switch that had been dusted off.

    Midnight slowly climbed the stairs examining each floor carefully for signs of life. The second and third floors were clear, but as she approached the fourth floor, she could hear footsteps. She peered around the corner noticing a beam of light under one of the doors. It was clear that the footsteps were coming from that room when she noticed a shadow pass by the door.

    Taking a deep breath she uncovered the pistol she had hidden underneath her robe and readied to barge into the room. Midnight stopped dead when she felt someone else's presence behind her. Carefully she turned to face a man holding a gun to her head. She put the gun down and he nodded for her to enter a nearby room. Following her into the room he closed the door careful to keep an eye on her.

    Midnight began to feel afraid, an emotion that she thought she got rid of long ago. As she turned to look at the man once again he, too, seemed afraid. She pushed the fear aside, staring into the mans dark brown eyes. As he moved closer, with his gun held high, she noticed that he seemed familiar to her. She thought about it and realized something strange.

    “Why have you not killed me yet?” she asked, voice strong. He hesitated to answer the question.

    “It was not my intention,” he stated. Midnight froze when she realized his voice was also familiar. “Do you not remember me, Hannah?”

    “How do you know my real name?” she asked, still not able to grasp why he was so familiar to her.

    “We knew each other once,” he explained. “I would remember your bright, blue eyes anywhere.”

    Midnight stared as the memories came rushing back to her. She was only sixteen when she left her parents. It was a choice she had not regretted. Her parents were horrible to her and she knew she would not miss them, but there was someone she had missed.

    “Jackson?” Midnight asked, finally realizing who he was.

    “I should have figured you would forget me when you left,” said Jackson. “You go by Midnight now, don't you?”

    “Yes,” she stated, simply.

    “I think it suits you,” he said. “I have decided to keep my name.”

    “Not exactly a smart choice,” said Midnight.

    “Maybe not,” he replied. “but it is who I am.”

    “Why are you here?” she asked.

    “I am here for the same reason you are,” said Jackson.

    “Then it looks like we have a problem,” Midnight stated. “The question is, how do we resolve it?”

    “I got here first,” Jackson said.

    “Nice try, but I would have noticed you were here sooner,” said Midnight with a smile.

    “Fair enough,” said Jackson. “But I am the one who has a weapon right now.”

    “What makes you think I don't have a weapon?” Midnight asked. He studied her for a second before answering.

    “If you have a weapon, why have you not pulled it out on me yet?” he asked.

    “Maybe I am curious to see where this leads,” she said, taking a step closer. He held the gun tighter but gave no signs that he was going to shoot her. They remained quiet for several minutes.

    “Why do you do this?” Jackson asked suddenly.

    “What?” Midnight asked, confused.

    “Why do you kill for a living?” he clarified. “Do you have children you need to feed?”

    “No,” she answered.

    “Are you having trouble holding a job, or money problems?” Jackson asked.

    “No,” she repeated.

    “Are you trying to support friends or family?” he continued.

    “No,” she replied again.

    “Then why do you kill?” he asked. “I have met plenty of other assassins out there, all of them had reasons for why they are doing this. Whats yours?”
    She thought about it for a few minutes. No one had ever asked her that question before. The pay as an assassin was great, but she didn't need to do it to make money. The last people she would support was her family and she had no other reasons. After a few more moments of silence she finally answered.

    “I don't know,” she said. “I guess it is because I can.”

    “Your a mystery, Midnight,” said Jackson putting the gun away. “Of all of the people I have met you are the only one I can't figure out.”

    Jackson began to walk out of the room and Midnight grabbed him. She spun him around to face her.

    “I thought you came here to kill him,” she said, nodding towards the nearby door. The man could now be heard mumbling to himself.

    “I lied,” said Jackson. “I just didn't want to come out and say I had been looking for you.”

    “Why?” she asked.

    “Your a smart girl, Midnight,” said Jackson, turning away from her. “I'm sure you can figure it out.”

    She watched him walk back down the stairs before grabbing her gun off the floor. Without hesitation she kicked down the door and shot the man inside, only stopping to make sure he was dead. Midnight quickly made her way out of the building and watched as a car pulled up to the lobby. She ignored the car making her way as far from the building as possible before looking back. Someone stepped out of the car, but Midnight could not tell if it was a man or women. Whoever it was they were about to find the dead man on the fourth floor. She let her mind wander thinking about Jackson. He had somehow found her, a task that she thought impossible. Yet, he searched for her only to ask her why she became an assassin. Something troubled her, but she could not put her finger on it. The car began to drive away and Midnight decided it was best for her to disappear.