Victor parked his motorcycle on the side of the road a couple dozen or so feet behind a small prison bus. He climbed off his bike and walked out to where he had hidden a pair tire spike strips under some leaves. After checking to make sure that no one was around to see, he picked up the devices and put them into a large bag that was strapped to the side of his bike. With that taken care of he straightened his jacket and walked towards the bus.
"Excuse me, do you folks need some help?" he called out as he approached, bringing forth as much congenial concern as he could muster. He rounded the backside of the van to find a pistol pointed at him.
"Freeze!" a policewoman yelled, brandishing her sidearm at Victor. Behind her was the driver, kneeling beside the flat tire and, per the instructions Victor had written for Elise to deliver, also a woman.
"I'm sorry, I just saw you pulled over on the side of the road and thought you might need some help," Victor defended himself, holding his hands up.
"Ah great, just what we needed," the driver commented. "Some guy trying to play the hero."
The policewoman stared at Victor, keeping her suspicions and weapon trained on him. "I"m going to need to see some ID," she finally said.
"Sure thing," Victor replied, reaching into his jacket pocket as he slowly approached the two officers. It was a trick he had used on several occasions in the past one that he would use once more. With practiced speed he pulled his whorestone out of the pocket and let its light engulf the two women.
With the officers now under his control and waiting docilely for his commands, Victor took a moment to evaluate them physically. The driver was middle-aged with graying hair, and her face looked like it had a bit of scowl even in her emotionless trance state. The guard was better, or at least younger, but she was heavy-set. To Victor, she looked like the kind of woman who had been an effortless knockout at 18, but hadn't put in the effort needed to maintain those looks as she got older. Probably had a few too many doughnuts along the way too.
But that was only a mild disappointment. The instructions that he had written for Elise to deliver only specified that women be assigned, so that Victor could control them as he was now. He could have directed that they be attractive, but that was a mistake Victor had already made once before. He had, through trial and error, discovered that orders which could not feasibly completed were simply ignored, so an order to send attractive women would have failed if there had been no attractive women to send.
So the two women were not aesthetically or sexually interesting to the hitman, but that wasn't the point. They would serve their purpose just the same.
"Ladies, I am take command of this operation," he said. "My orders are to be followed to the letter and supersede the normal chain of command."
"Yes, sir," they both responded.
Having kept the message short and comprehensive, he pocketed his crystal. With the way his employers kept a tight purse string on his battery supply, he was always looking to be as efficient as possible with his usage of it.
"What do you need, sir?" the guard asked, holstering her weapon.
"I'm here to collect your prisoner, you'll be transferring him to my custody," Victor said.
"Understood, sir," they both answered. The driver then opened the door to the vehicle, allowing the guard to climb into it. A moment later she came back out with a man who was bound at the wrists and ankles, leading him by the link of his handcuffs. She presented him to Victor, holding a key in her free hand.
"Here he is, sir, with the key to his restraints," she said.
Victor nodding before looking down at the ankle cuffs. "Unlock those," he ordered. The guard complied, getting down on her knees and inserting the key in the appropriate hole. She turned it, causing the cuffs to disengage and fall to the ground.
The prisoner lifted his feet, feeling the freedom of not having his ankles bound to each other. "Thank y-" he started to say before he looked up to see Victor pointing a revolver at his face.
"Don't thank me so soon, Dr. Davis," the hitman warned.
The doctor breathed heavy and uneven breaths, fighting his nerves. "That glow earlier," he managed to say. "You work for them, don't you?"
"Assuming we're talking about the same them, yes," Victor replied.
Davis chuckled despite the situation he found himself in. "You don't even know who they are, do you?"
"No, I don't, and it doesn't matter," Victor replied before glancing over at the guard. "No one is to ever know that I was here. As far as anyone else is concerned, the prisoner took advantage of the flat tire to unlock his restraints and escape to the woods on his own."
"Yes, sir," the guard and driver both said in response.
Victor returned his attention to his new captive. "You and I, Doctor, have places to go." He then led Dr. Davis to his bike, forcing him to sit backwards on the back of the seat and clipping his handcuffs to the bike so that he couldn't escape. It was going to be a long, round about trip through back roads to avoid giving too many eyes too many good looks, but damn it if Victor didn't love his bike.
The hitman climbed on himself, revved up the engine, and drove off. He wasn't used to taking targets alive, but it was what this job required. Blood would be spilled in the end regardless.
