The Mark by Phoenix Emerson

“This is the mark, and here are your orders. It must be done tonight. Any way you choose. For my sake though, make it painful. Make it last. Payment will be made upon notification of the deceased, and collection will be at the usual drop off point 48 hours later. You know the drill.” Her boss said dryly. He wasn't too fond of losing his best assassin, but there would be others. Right? Other’s as good as her? The likelihood of that was slim to none. She was the best assassin he had in his company. The only mercenary who held all emotion and conflict at bay. She followed orders to the letter of the word. She was as deadly stunning as she was vehemently vicious. Dean handed her the dossier of the man called the Juggernaut. He wanted this man dead personally so when the contract came in to his company, he was elated. This man had made a personal embarrassment of him in a past time before he was the boss he was now; when he himself had been an assassin named the Adjudicator.
                  Contracts came in by referrals of the highest rank in society, from politicians to government officials. Dean’s business was beyond discreet. Any request that came in for a job would result in effectively efficient and untraceable kills. “You sure there isn’t anything I can do to persuade you to stay Londyn?” He held the white folder in his hand. The white folder meant it was the last job for an assassin.
                  She smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. I’m tired of doing this Dean. Enough snuffing out lives. The money just isn’t worth it anymore.” This was her last job, and after its completion she would be well on her way to Anguilla with riches to last her the rest of her life. Alive. Alone but alive. She flipped through the file briefly and stopped at the picture of the man. “The Juggernaut.” Londyn paused staring at Dean in shock. “You want me to kill the Juggernaut?”
                  “I don’t. The company does. Our clients do.” Dean sighed sitting on his desk.
                  Londyn slammed the file on the desk. “Didn’t you tell me he-”
              Dean interrupted her would be reliving of the Juggernauts reputation. “Yes, and I don’t want to relive the situation. If you don’t want the-” Dean got up from the couch and walked over to his chair. He sat behind his desk and crossed his arms.
                  Londyn interrupted him. “Quiet.”
                  “So, were good?” Dean asked arrogantly.
                  Abruptly she answered. “Yes Dean. We’re good and we are done.” She walked out the door of the office building concealed as, "Precision Shooting Inc."  The shop was full of all brands of recording equipment, production equipment, and top of the line cameras. This place was designed to look like a photography studio. Precision shooting was correct in many ways. There was never a target missed. In her years of execution, she was as precise as mercenaries came. Her look was exotic and her beauty was the perfect cover. She was walking into a studio to do a photo shoot right? What else could she be good for? 
                  Londyn figured after years of bad choices, and an even worse choice for a career, that regardless of the mark, the job would be done. Years ago her dream had been to become an actress. A chance encounter at a gun range changed her entire course of life. The first time she fired a gun she hit the center of the target. She never flinched. When more targets were brought before her she again hit center target with no time delay or emotion to hold her back. Situational awareness was a speciality of Londyn’s. So when she saw the range master in awe of her, then disappear she assumed he’d either documented her session or told someone. A day later she met Dean and the rest can be found in her work history.
                  She held