Butter Brickle – Underworld 3

Let’s do another month of M’s prompts shall we.   I used to do 101 words, hence the title but I am scrapping the restriction.  They will still be a brief.

Part 1 is here

Part 2 is here

Marcus Henderson was born to a poor mid-west family just after the second American civil war.  His parents had picked the wrong side and they had paid a heavy price for those decisions for years afterwards.  Like so many who had felt it was their duty to reclaim the America of their forefathers his father had died a broken man and his mother a shell of the tender and caring woman he remembered from his very earliest years.

As he walked towards the Zip station he thought of them and of the promise he had made his father as he lay dying, his body riddled with radiation poisoning. He would have been proud of the man he had become.  Proud of his sense of duty and his loyalty to family and a cause that still lived silently in the heart of so many.

“Don’t forget what they did” he could still hear him saying.

With rain falling and the inky blackness of night now descended on the city he reached into his pocket and fingered a small wad of credits.  Just enough to get him to the Airport and then it was off planet.  He gripped the briefcase more tightly and turned a corner.  The Zip station was just a block ahead and he quickened his pace.

“I’ve done it” he said aloud and allowed himself to smile.  It was probably his first smile in years.

Unfortunately for Marcus Henderson, with the exception of a brief moment where he managed to muster a “what the…”, those were the last words to ever leave his mouth.

From the corner of his eye he caught a blur of motion, a whiff of perfume and then he was suddenly dragged back into a small loading alley running parallel to the main walkway.  He felt arms around his throat and despite kicking frantically he could not fight back.

There was a brief “Shh” in his ear and in one swift movement there was a crack as his neck snapped and he slumped lifeless to the floor.

“Heavier than I thought” Jessica said to herself looking down at him and reaching down and prying the briefcase from his fingers which she placed it on the ground next to a dumpster.  She then went through his pockets and found his cash, ID Papers and a packet of butter brittle.

“Sweet tooth eh” she said.  “Don’t you know sugar will kill you sugar.”

She didn’t have time to get him into the dumpster and pulled him out of sight.  Not a minute too soon too as she heard hurried footsteps and through the patter of the rain  listened as the two hooded men walked past oblivious to what had just happened.

“He must have headed into the station” she heard one say.  There was definitely the hint of a Russian accent.

“Head up to the main concourse” the second told him breaking into a run, “I’ll check the departures.”

Jessica stood in the darkness, rain falling, and listened to the their receding footsteps.

“Job done” she said to herself and picked up the case and pushed the cash and ID papers into her jacket pocket.  She tossed the butter brittle at the dead man’s feet.

“Nothing personal Marcus” she said heading back out into the night, “I’m just doing my job.”