COLE, SIENNA.

22

Female

Bisexual

Task Board

Assassin/Moonlight Politician’s Assistant

Arms

There are certain kinds of people who fly below the radar by being constantly in it. Sienna is one such individual. Many people know her face. They know her as the pretty, polite, dainty, capable girl behind her Politician boss Mr. ___. When she is on television behind the podium and a little off to the left, her eyes are downcast and she is almost always holding a folder of papers to her chest.

When her day is done, she goes home, unlocks her apartment, turns off the security system, checks every room for intruders, then polishes her arsenal of guns. When that is done she spends the rest of the evening sparring with her punching bag or sparring dummy. She is like a machine, constantly training, constantly on high alert, and constantly hungry for a mission.

Sienna doesn’t really have friends and doesn’t really have a true life outside of “the job”. She keeps people at arm’s length and the people she does let in tend to get hurt, whether by her hand or someone else’s. If Sienna has any real attachment to anything, she wouldn’t be able to name it for you. That tends to happen when you’ve lost track of how many hits you’ve done.

I see Sienna advancing in her cover career as well as in her real career. She has the abilities to make it to the top in both, although she’ll have to choose one day and I don’t see her being too at home in an office, although she’d have more influence there.

No one in the biome has as much true dedication and time put into any two jobs than Sienna. Though her assistant job is a cover, she is as dedicated to making her official’s business life as efficient as possible. She can’t seem to find any kind of balance for life and so has kept her personal life to a minimum. She trains every single night, for hours, honing her craft and her body so that should she ever be found without a weapon? She won’t need one.

Even when on a mission, if she gets a call in the middle of the night from Mr. ___, she can recite his next day’s agenda without having to stop and consult her notes, as well as silently kill the man she is there to murder. It’s a difficult job but someone has to do it. Paperwork is a bitch.

Sienna also happens to be one of those people who can’t keep it in her pants. If it’s alive and offers, she’ll sleep with it. Like the amount of people she has killed, she has lost count of how many partners she’s had. She has never been in a relationship that has ended well and is what some people may term as a “serial cheater”. Monogamy isn’t anything she’s interested in and she doesn’t respect family boundaries either. If a man or a woman is married it doesn’t matter. And yes, if you’re interested, she has slept with her boss. All of them.

If you’re looking for anything acerbic and witty, Sienna is your girl. She has a bad habit of saying horrible things to people without actually intending to be rude. She’s definitely not someone who would be hired for a suicide hotline. Her sense of humor tends to run fairly dark and turns to the side of offensive.

Although she can tone it down she tends not to, not truly caring about other people’s feelings. Other people have more in common with animals in her mind than thinking, feeling individuals. Perhaps it’s better this way. After all, who else would you want in political office?

3 days ago
The apartment was dark but not silent. The kitchen table sat on its side in the splintered wreckage of both chairs. Three cupboard doors were thrown open and every glass save one lay shattered all over the linoleum flooring. A bloody hand print was smeared on the fridge and the door frame of the living room.

In the light of a street lamp, two figures were intertwined; a man, bleeding from his nose, and a darkly clad woman in black cargo pants and leather gloves. The man’s body was bent at an awkward angle, his muscles tensed, his hands pawing at the woman’s back as she calmly held him in a choke hold with the crook of her elbow. Her brown hair had been carefully swept back into a ponytail and her face still had traces of the modest makeup from the morning’s work.

She tightened her grip on the man as he tried to wriggle free, driving her knee up into the small of his back. He arched and let out a strangled yelp, a cross between a gag and a scream. Bending so that her mouth was next to the man’s ear she whispered, “You know, you really should die with some dignity. You’re struggling like a little girl.”

The man slapped feebly at her back again, attempting to reach her face but he couldn’t. His face was turning purple. She was lifted momentarily off her feet as his body lurched but she kept her ground while he flopped like a fish. Suddenly the bud in her ear beeped. She delicately pressed her finger to it and clicked it to pick up the call.

“Sienna Cole,” she answered, keeping her voice low and professional. One never knew who would call her.

“Sienna, it’s Mr. ___,” said the man on the other end of the line. Of course it was. Sienna rolled her eyes and pressed her lips together. Now was so not a good time.

“Am I interrupting something?” Mr. ___ asked. “You sound a little breathless.”

“No sir,” Sienna placed one both hands on either side of the man’s neck. It proved to be a mistake. He exploded outward, away from her, flinging himself to the floor and crawling away, gasping as he did so.

 Sienna pounced.

“Good. Good. Listen, I was wondering if we could go over tomorrow’s notes. I’m a little fuzzy on the middle. Was I pro cleaning up Gamma slums or against?”

“Pro, sir,” Sienna was on the man’s back, her thighs clamped firmly around his middle with his neck once again in the crook of her elbow but this time she had his hair twisted around her left fist. “Pro gives the sense that we care. You’re going to follow up with a note for the farmers to thank them for their hard work and-”

Here she pulled back so hard that the man’s body bent back into an almost perfect U. He couldn’t buck her off. Spittle foamed at the sides of his mouth. His eyes bugged out of their sockets as veins bulged across his face. Sienna waited.

“And you were going to praise the education system and promise to put financial help in place.”

“Did Dave crunch those numbers? I was pretty sure we didn’t have the funds for that.”

“We don’t,” she answered.

“I can’t keep these projects straight anymore,” Mr. ___ sighed. She pictured him rubbing his graying temples and squeezing his cobalt blue eyes shut. He really was a handsome man, though a bit past his prime. He was at least easy to deal with and easy to keep happy, if a little simple but the man’s ambitions knew no bounds.

“That’s what I’m here for, sir,” her voice had taken on a husky quality, but she switched back to her professional tone as she said, “Is there anything else, sir?”

“No, Sienna. Thank you. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, did you get my gift?” She’d received it all right. A beautiful vase that she had given away to her neighbor.

“Yes, sir, it was lovely.” She looked down at the man still in her grasp and realized he’d been dead for the last minute. He fell with a dull thud to the floor once she let him go. Sienna stood and brushed herself off and glanced around the apartment. It was a disaster.

“Good night, Sienna,” Mr. ___ said and hung up. Sienna clicked her ear bud again and stood with her hands on her hips.

“I told you throwing things never solves any problems,” she said to the dead man. “But would you listen to me? Nooo. Had to have your own way.”

She gingerly touched the side of her head where a glass had struck her. There was a tender bump but no blood. Nothing a bit of makeup wouldn’t cover. Reaching into her pocket she took out a tiny number pad and dialed. The ear bud began to ring and the only indication she had that the call had gone through was three clicks and silence.

“It’s done,” she said, expressionless. Two more clicks and then the line went dead. Sienna put the number pad back into the pocket of her dark pants and took one final glance around the apartment before walking out, leaving the door open behind her. Break-ins were rare but it would send the correct message to the others of his group. Don’t. Ask. Questions.

MADE BY KIROUKO OF GANGNAM-STYLE