The college girl was alone in the library. The man didn't know why, exactly, she had been marked to die. She seemed ordinary enough. Her hair was a bit of an unnatural color, but that wasn't all out of the norm for college aged women, setting out on their own, pushing boundaries where ever they could. She wore a cute little sweater over a barely there skirt, he saw, when she had sat down, flashing a pair of dark panties underneath. That might have been fun to exploit, the shortness of the attire, but his orders were fairly precise and did not leave any room for such frivolities.

Besides, leaving behind DNA would be a bad move to say the very least, and he never liked to use a condom. Just didn't feel as good.

So he'd settle for doing his job. Just cause he didn't know this Hoshino Miyako didn't mean he wouldn't kill her. A contract was a contract, and this young woman had pissed off someone enough to forfeit her life. Or perhaps her parents had. He neither knew, nor cared.

His shoes were soft soled, so that they did not make any noise as they crossed the floor toward his target. She sat at a small table with a light at the end, tilted to ease the late night reading she was indulging in. A quick twist of his head confirmed no one was around. So much the better. He would keep checking right up until the moment he was upon her, and though it was a short distance, he took nearly 10 minutes to cross it. Care was his boon companion on this effort.

Between his hands he wove a cord of silk, knotted in the center. This too had been a special request, the fabric a royal purple. Some sort of message he assumed. He sucked in a slow, quiet breath, and then raised the silk, pouncing. He was on her in an instant, the garrote coming around her head and up, under her neck, the knot pressing in to cut off the flow of blood and air.

The assassin was a big man, and pulled the college student up hard against his chest, with a sharp, painful jerk by the neck. He could see her eyes go wide as the head tilted up at him, her face color already distorting. She tried to scream, but in vain. There was no air to fill her lungs, for the passageway was blocked. Crushed, in fact, by the brutal force of the jerk. The silk was biting into her flesh, and her face was turning swiftly red, then purple. He could hear her shoes kicking against the underside of the desk.

It was over shortly there after. The ferocity of the first strike had lessened the time it took. Her kicking died off. Hoshino Miyako's face was a nasty shade, her eyes bulging up, her tongue jutting to the side, swollen, with drool dripping down it. There was a silence for the moment, broken only by the mans heavy breathing. And then, there was a trickle and a stench. He let the body down as it voided itself all over the chair she had been sitting in, puddling and running down onto the floor. She must not have been to the bathroom in a while, he thought, of this final indignation. He tied the cord off, and rubbed his gloved hands together, pitching her face forward onto the table and retreating through the shadows.


—–

Detective First Class Mihoshi Kuramitsu has been a thorn in the side of the Galactic Underworld for too long. You have managed to finally get your hands on the famed detective. FINISH HER!