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How Does An Assassin Retire?

By: Lu-Man

Okay, so I admit it. She got to me.

With a coat of fur that's dark brown, and speckled with white over her arms and legs, and large doe like eyes that could melt the polar ice caps, as well as a mane that always seems to be well combed and kept, what's not to like? I swear, Penny will grow up one day to break the hearts of a thousand little ponies and horses pretending to be stallions if I have anything to say about it. I suppose I will, now that it's kind of my full time job. I guess I should start at the beginning.

I moved in a little after she was three. It was a quiet neighborhood. The kind of place traditionally beloved by prey types. No loud noises, lots of large trees that reach up towards the sky at night to provide plenty of cover from the sun. Large back yards held close to a large old forest, thick enough to make you feel like you're on the edge of the rain forest. It was the type of place where the yards were always neatly kept trimmed, the fences kept mended, and the neighbors kept out of your business. The perfect neighborhood for a fox like me.

The house I moved into was another cookie cutter home designed to remind you of the older houses far off in the rich part of the city. I remember choosing it because the soft blue of the paint outside reminded me of the cool blue of the sky. I also remember choosing it because as me and the realtor walked around outside that day, a husky who could never stop chatting or panting, no one looked over at me. No neighbors walk up to me to introduce me to the neighborhood. No kids even glanced my way despite being late enough for the bus to send hoards of them running down the street, shouting and screaming as they talked to each other as the swarmed down the street just released from the school.

The day she walked up to me, she was cute as a button in her small white dress and fawn brown fur coat. She stared at me with her big brown eyes as I held the door open. My paws were covered in grease and soot as I stood in the door way holding a box of tools. "You kill people, huh?"

That was the first thing she ever said to me. Me. A strange fox brand new to her neighborhood.

Most prey have a natural mistrust of predators. Not this little girl. She had an almost amazement in

her eyes as she looked up at me on that front porch. I looked down at my greasy shirt and jeans and

smiled. "I'm sorry, but I don't..." I began.

"I can see your gun in your pants. All the killers stick guns in their pants." She looked up at my eyes, never looking down to the nine millimeter I had shoved in my belt.

"Says who?" I leaned against the doorway, meeting her gaze as I adjusted my grip on the box.

"Columbo." She said staring up at me.

"Well, sweetie, I don't kill people. Actually, I'm in tech support." I lied.

"Nuh-uh...." She cradled a teddy bear in front of her.

"Ya-huh!" I said. Actually, I wasn't in tech support. My method of fixing a computer was using it

for target practice and buying a new one. But you don't live too long in this business by letting your

cover ID get blown. Especially by a girl who looked to still be wearing underoos.

"Look sweetie, in this box..." I said, as I leaned down, and flipped up the lid. Inside where some

screw drivers and other mechanic supplies. Her eyes grew big. "Is there blood on that..."

"No sweetie." I said. "It's just grease."

I saw her mother coming running up a few seconds later. "I'm sorry, Mr. Penny gets really

curious sometimes. She wasn't bothering you, was she?" She was attractive for a Pony. I swear she

had some Clydesdale in her ancestry. Her coat was brown with a white blaze on her nose, but she was

tall. The blue jeans and T shirt she was wearing didn't nearly do her justice.

I laughed. "Oh no. We were just talking about my profession. Penny seems to think I'm an

Assassin or something."

"She does have an imagination." Her mom reached down and ruffled her hair as she spoke. "What is it that you do, Mr....?" I looked down at her offered a paw. A real beautiful woman, for a Clydesdale. I shook it gently, my fox paw engulfing hers.

"Johnson." I lied. "Larry Johnson. And I'm in tech support."

"His tools have blood on them..." Penny said to her mom, now tucking herself timidly behind her leg.

A paw was offered as I stood, holding the box in both hands. I looked down at it and smiled sheepishly. "Can I get back to you on that?" I shook the contents of the box to emphasize my point.

The owner of that paw smiled back. "I'm Jennifer Ghiaveli. Most of my friends called me Jenny."

Through the magic of small talk, I found that Jenny worked at a local bank as a manager of sorts. Something about the tellers at the window, or something. I wasn't all too sure. Her daughter looked down and danced slowly on one leg, her little tail flittering in nerves behind her, almost like more like a deer than a pony. After politely declining an invitation to a barbecue, I looked down at Penny, my ears tilted in as innocent a pose as I could muster. "Oh, I told you that's grease dear." If I wasn't holding that box, I would have leaned forward and met her gaze, and gave her the most innocent of smiles I could muster. And I can pull up some very innocent looking smiles. It's one of my better traits.

That was how I met her. One sunny day in Suburbia. Four years flew by fast. Four birthdays, four Christmas cards exchanged. Four times the winter cold blew through and dusted the lawn with just enough snow to promise a storm that would never come. I watched that little colt grow into a beautiful little girl, one who also made her way screaming down the street as she piled off the large yellow bus at the end of the day like the other kids her age. Yelling to the other children, making plans and playing games at the full power of their lungs. During all this time, she never gave up the idea that I was some sort of international assassin or something. I would leave my house and she'd be playing under the tree in my yard. "Going to kill a drug dealer?" She'd ask, her doll in hand.

I was wearing my lanyard which identified me as "Harold Wallaby", an ursine name yes, but not unheard of for foxes to have them. I would be wearing a plain striped shirt and khaki pants, with a belt to match my boring black tie. "No honey, the bosses' computer is on the fritz. He wants to know why it's not printing."

Then I would go and take care of the printer, who suddenly decided to double cross my boss and

do his counterfeit printing for someone else. Such is the way it works in this business. You smile, you

nod, you plant flowers in your rose garden. You join the local neighborhood watch. You keep your head

down, so you can do your job in peace. You get to know the neighbors so they don't suspect you of anything. But you don't get too close to the neighbors, and you don't get too flashy. The number one rule in this business is keep your head down. The number two rule is be boring. No one suspects boring.

That way, when you tell Peter Krost, the rabbit down the street, that you really can't go caroling this year because you have the flu he doesn't suspect you to be going to LA to arrange the early retirement of some business associates instead. Or when Mrs. Benson asks you why can't you play bridge tonight they don't think twice when you say a server went down at work and you have to fix it.

So when you come back hours later from fixing said server from ever going down again,

especially with the cops, a nice baked blue berry pie is waiting for you when you get back. And Mrs.

Benson is an excellent baker. It's almost criminal that a swine can bake that well.

Everyone else was certain I worked for the Geek Herd, or the Nerd Squad or whatever those

black tie wearing jerks are called. Not Penny. Just last Christmas, she brought over cookies. We had a

two-hour discussion afterwards on why I really did work for the CIA and the Nerd Squad herd thing was a cover.

So, I guess I really wasn't that surprised when I came home from discussing, the...well lets just say health of the computer network, to find her sitting in my living room. She was seated on my soft white, boring couch. Chosen just so it could blend in perfectly with the boring beige walls and non discript end tables and coffee tables. One individual had once told me that my home looks more like a hotel room than the last hotel he stayed at. I took that as a compliment.

Penny's eyes were large and brown. All pupils no iris. You know, that way prey species get when they're really afraid. Down her arm and on my couch was a streak of blood. Blood that had dribbled a little on the plain brown area rug. The blood had dried from the light red streaks into brown stains, ruining the couch and the carpet. She held her cut paw in one hand, panting almost.

"I'm sorry for breaking in Mr Larry....." She began to speak through her shock. I shushed her with a wave of my paw. "Let's look at that cut" I said. She continued to look past me.

I gently turned her paw over and pulled a shard of glass out of her forearm. "So, you owe me a

window huh?" I said, smiling. The cuts bled a lot, but still seemed superficial. Most had scabbed over around the small shards of glass by now.

"Please help" she said. Panic was in her voice. "Help?" I asked.

The soft sound of the front door opening caused me to cock an ear in that direction. I heard the unmistakable sound of a mother shocked at the condition of her child. The gasp she gave might have pulled all the air out of the room in other circumstances. "My God, Pen!"

She was waved off with a paw. I didn't bother standing to meet her gaze. "I just need some gauze and bandages. She'll be fine. She won't even lose any fur over this."

It will always be one of the mysteries of the universe why people feel the need to explain the obvious when their in a panic. "I'm sorry Larry, she raced out of the door when I turned around. We'll pay for the door."

"Don't worry about it. What's going on?" I left the living room and entered a hallway, taking a right into my bathroom. It was more boring. White tile walls, checkered black and white floor. A fish swam eternal on the shower curtain over the porcelain tub. I pulled on the medicine cabinet and grabbed some gauze and a roll of medical tape from the top of it.

"It's alright....we had...a car accident is all." The fear and confusion was evident in her voice. What also was evident was the lie.

I walked back towards the living room, with the medical supplies and began to wrap her daughters arm. "Don't worry about it Jenny. Besides, must have been some accident. Who was hit?"

"Oh. Uh...we were." She said.

"Jennifer. Your car was in the drive way when I pulled up. Same old dented Dodge dart. Same

old busted up fender. No new dings or hits." I began to wrap her daughters arm. The missing fur would grow back, and with a few grooming techniques, no one would even know it happened.

"Well...It almost was!" There was that fear and panic again. As well as the lie.

"We need your help, please!" Penny shouted.

"Baby Larry is just a computer guy, he can't really help our car!" Jenny was sticking to the story of the car accident. Something happened spooked her. One doesn't really get this scared or nervous, or lie this much about a fake car accident unless they saw or did something they shouldn't have.

"No, he's not!" Penny shouted. "And our car is fine!"

Whatever it was, it was big and dangerous. Big and dangerous enough to lead both Mother and daughter into hysterics. Daughter was screaming about how I was some sort of secret government assassin, and mother was screaming about how she was wrong and they needed to go. "Alright! Alright!" I finally shouted, slamming my paw on the table to get their attention. "Whatever it is, we need to pull together." I said. Both eyes turned towards me. Hopeful. Expectant. Fearful. Lost. They where drifting in the dark of another world they never knew existed, desperately seeking for a life raft.

Any other neighborhood. Any other couple. Absolutely anyone else, I would have just looked the other way and made an anonymous phone call. I would ask the same questions the neighbors would as the For Sale sign went up over the unmowed property next door. Whatever happened to them? Did she get another job? Why did she suddenly just disappear in the middle of the night? Did she hit the lottery?

Any other neighborhood. Any other couple. But Pennies large pleading eyes, her confident smile and persistence was stronger than my resolve. "Do you two have a go bag ready?"

A go bag is essential for just about anyone regardless of their job or station in life. It doesn't matter if you're simply the garbage truck driver or a door to door salesman. The go bag will be something that you will use sooner or later in your life, whether you have to leave suddenly to tend to a family emergency, or run hide from law enforcement for a while as they look into the mysterious falling death of one of your employers political enemies. In it, keep your essentials. As well as some travel sized tooth paste, a fresh tooth brush and other toiletry items and a couple changes of clothing.

It maybe smart to pack some other essentials as well. If you're in the business I'm in, I'd recommend a glock, with about a hundred rounds of ammunition, a combat knife of some kind and a swiss army knife, as well as a roll of duct tape. Keep it handy, check it about once a month, and if an emergency happens: like grandma falling down and braking her hip, Uncle Joe getting drunk and his tail getting caught in the door of a car, or a hired assassin looking to kill you, all you have to do is grab the bag and go.

As soon as I mentioned having a go bag ready though, both ponies looked as if I was speaking a foreign language. You could hear a pin drop in that kitchen. Their ears tilted backwards in confusion. We stood there staring at each other for a moment before a loud knock on the front door interrupted us.

"Oh shit!" Jenny said, her paws going to her face.

"Oooh! You said a bad word!" Penny said. Both of them looked towards the front door.

Like I said before, my house is a simple basic home. The interior looks as if it was designed by the same guy who does hotel rooms. Only he was just a little mad at me. The furniture matched yes, but no one would call it classic. It was all ply board stuff bought as kits from a furniture store on the cheap. There was no family photos on the walls. Just a couple of nondescript paintings chosen at random from a decorative store bought off the clearance rack. In the kitchen, white cabinetry surrounded us, and a blond wood table, also bought on discount and assembled at home, stood in the middle. From the kitchen itself you could see the down the hallway to the front door. It was decorated like a guy who spends most of his life on his computer. Or a guy who spends most of his time preparing to run.

I made shushing motions to both of them. The walk to the front door from the kitchen only takes a few moments. For me though, it felt like a thousand years. I still had no idea of what had happened. It could be an entire hit team sent to kill them. Which meant as I stepped into the living room, gas grenades would come shattering through the windows, moments before someone kicked the door in and shot us all in the back of the head. If it was a solitary killer, then it could come in many forms. They could be dressed as a delivery person or a maintenance worker from a utility company. They could look like almost anything.

Anything, like a cop. An older sheep dog stood on the other side of the door. He had a pleasant smile, and more than just a little gray around his muzzle. As I looked through the peep hole, he waved. He looked unassuming, nice even. Like he couldn't hurt a fly. I didn't like him from the start. What was it with cops and dogs? It seems like the entire police force is canine.

"Just a minute!" I shouted through the door. Then as softly as I could, I walked back to the kitchen and grabbed Jenny and Pennies muzzles in my paw, clamping their mouths shut.

"Listen to me." I whispered as low as I could. "He's a canine, his hearing is excellent. He wants to look around the place and search. I'm going to let him. Go out the door through the woods. You'll find a shack with a car. Get in it. I say again, his hearing is excellent. No loud breathing. No whispering. Soft breathing, gentle movements only. Got it?"

They both nodded their heads. Now a dog's hearing isn't the only excellent thing they have.

Their noses are second to none. Especially, a cop's trained nose. He was sure to smell the blood all over the place. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a large jar of cayenne pepper. I threw it down hard

against the floor and cursed. I made sure to get plenty of pepper dust on my clothes as well. "Shit!"

I stepped around the mess and before I stepped into the hallway, I put a finger to my muzzle

and mimed. Quiet. Both nodded and slowly began making their way towards the back door. As I entered the living room, I heard the gentle click of a door being shut silently behind me.

The front door was swung open wide, with an innocent smile of my own to match that of my unexpected visitor. "Officer! I shouted as I stepped backwards into the living room. "You startled me! I think you owe me a new jar of Cayenne pepper."

He sneezed a couple times and snorted loudly, trying to clear his nose. The cayenne pepper dust already having its desired effect. "I'm sorry to bother you. But I was wondering if you knew were your neighbors where?"

His eyes floated around the room as he spoke, searching in every corner. I saw him glance upon the blood, but move on, not even asking about it. Shit. He maybe on to us. "I'm sorry, not my turn to keep up with the Bonville's. I think they're down in Florida this week. They sure do love to travel..."

"I'm not talking about them. A Clydesdale mix and her little pony girl. Penny I think I heard her

called." He said this as he walked slowly to the hallway. I stepped in of him, deliberately walking slower than him. Now, playing this awkward move off as smooth is not something that can be accomplished by even the most experienced of Shakespearean actors. I was no actor. So the move must have come across as awkward as I feared.

"No, I'm sorry did something happen to them?" The best way to deflect annoying pointed questions I found was through denial. Deny everything. No I didn't know anything. That's too bad, I didn't know that suspect had been found murdered. I'm sorry officer, I had no idea.

I tried to do this now, standing in the door way right above the jar of pepper that must have been killing that cop by this point. The only thing that could defeat me now would be evidence to the contrary. Say like blood droplets in a living room. Or the sound of gentle rustling from two individuals who I told to leave the house through the back door. I neither turned nor acted any differently as the started then stopped. Inwardly I winced, but outwardly my face remained stone calm, ready to weather this storm out.

The cop didn't turn, look up or even wag his tail. However, his ear pricked gently but ever so slightly in that direction. His tone changed, from the traditional 'I'm just here doing my job' sound that every cop has when asking questions to 'I'm just an innocent cop trying to help.' You have to be careful of that sound in cops. It's cops with that sound who will eventually hang you. "Well, I'm afraid Penny saw something. We have to get the details from her. Investigations; you know how they go, don't you?" He said, giving me a knowing wink. "You mind if I come in? I can help you clean up that mess in the kitchen."

"I'm sorry, but I have quite a bit of work to do. Tech support stuff. Got to fix a bunch of stuff in

the software you know." I replied nodding my head in the opposite direction of the bathroom to the doorway that hid the stair well. The hope was that he would get curious and begin searching the second floor, thus allowing Penny and her mom some time to escape. However, he didn't take the bait.

His eyes stared down upon the glass jar on the floor in the door way. I heard his sniffling get louder as we got closer to the kitchen. Sensitive noses aren't always a blessing. A strong scent, like pepper can cause more problems to those with a strong sense of smell than to those without. Already, his eyes were beginning to tear up as he sniffled a bit. "Oh it's alright. If you see them, could you give them my card? It's very important I talk to them. I'm curious. Why keep your pepper in a glass jar? Do you keep your coffee in a jar too?"

"Saves the flavor." I said. I felt his eyes go from the glass jar back up to me, searching the room around me. He didn't step foot inside the kitchen. As he took a step backwards, inwardly I sighed with relief.

"That's what I tell my wife. We should keep our powdered goods in those glass jars. Everything would taste so much better. She just tells me its easier to keep them in what they come with. Well," He held out the card, and I gently took it from him.. "Have a nice day. We'll be in touch."

The sheep dog walked towards the front door with me in tow. As he closed the door, I quietly but quickly raced back towards the kitchen. Jennifer and Penny stood by a counter top, a lost look in their eyes.

"You should have left already! He knows you're here. You have about thirty seconds before he comes back. Your great neighbors, but I can't get into this." I tried to turn my backs on them, but Penny, with her scared doe like eyes locked on mine, freezing me in place. Those big doe eyes. Damn. It's amazing that little girl ever gets in any trouble at all with a weapon like that in her arsenal. I bet she could stop entire nations from fighting with one tearful look and a mournful one word plea.

"Please." She said. She had frozen me in place. Penny. Darling Penny.

"What makes you think I can do anything anyway? I can give you a gun and a head start, but that's about it! I do tech stuff little girl..." I waved my arms frantically, but she still didn't budge.

"Please...." She said again. Those big doe eyes. Damn. I could feel something inside my cold

heart break free. The worst thing that can happen to a man in my work is learning how to feel. That's

what my old boss always said before he retired. I was about to figure out why. With a heavy sigh I hung my head in defeat. My life, so neat and orderly, with its many secrets and easy code was about to get a lot more complicated.

"You must do everything exactly as I say; you understand?" Both nodded. "I mean everything!

Don't move unless I say. Don't eat unless I say. If you pass gas it will be on my command, got it?" They

both nodded again. They still didn't seem to understand the depth of shit they were in. If they were seeking my help, then they maybe already well and truly screwed.