Hit Squad — a drabble.

by Angharad.

We were a well oiled machine–five of us, travelling on false identities and in disguise. We’re given the job–and we do it no questions, no comebacks–then disappear into thin air.

I always get the job of playing the girl–I’m young, skinny and small, some latex boobs, makeup and a wig and you wouldn’t know me from the real thing.

This is it–we enter the hotel, find the target, two of them dressed as uniformed coppers burst in with two more behind me, I deliver the payload..

“Happy Birthday,” I shout bursting out of the box.