Original Fiction: For Rachelle, A Character Study

The young man sauntered down the walk to his car, unlocked it, and stood there for a moment, looking over the neighborhood. Quiet night lay on the street like a blanket. Over across the way, a dog barked once, and was silent. He gave only a passing glance to the triangle of black between the tall bush and the corner of the house, where the light couldn't reach. He saw nothing, climbed in his car, and drove off.

Then the bush moved. "Okay, ladies, our turn," it said. Stepping from behind the bush, Rachelle kept her eyes locked on the taillights of the young man's Honda, waiting to turn left at the end of the street. She tapped her earpiece. "We're clear," she said.

From behind the house, six forms appeared, advanced low in a line, and knelt by the front door. The lead figure looked back to Rachelle, who nodded. Pulling a thin wire and a small wrench from a pocket, she worked the lock. The door popped open, and the black-clad girls disappeared inside.

Rachelle pulled off her cap and shook her pixie locks free in a golden cascade. She checked her watch. The man would be gone for another fifteen minutes, chasing a ghost of her own engineering. Plenty of time; her team knew what to do. She unzipped her jacket and shrugged out of it, exposing a frilly pink top with lacy sleeves. Rosebushes bloomed under the front window, and she stopped a moment to inhale their delicious scent.

Her earpiece crackled. "We've got a problem here. His stuff is scattered all over his room. Doesn't he ever pick up after himself?"

Rachelle's face broke into a grin. "Don't move any of it. Just photograph in place. That could come in handy later."

"Understood. Five minutes."

That would be useful, should she need to escalate into a public confrontation. She unsnapped her black skirt and flipped it around, reversing it, and resnapped the cream-and-lime frills into place. Her outfit totally transformed, she stood on the walk and surveyed the front of the house. Nice place. Out-of-the-way. He probably thought she wouldn't be able to find it.

He underestimated her, and she was going to enjoy the living daylights out of showing him just how badly.

"We're done here, Princess," her lead said, using Rachelle's code name. "All decorations in place."

"Roger that. Get the team out of there. I'll handle it from here." Six black forms slid silently out the front door, one of them passing Rachelle closely enough to take her jacket before disappearing.

Rachelle smoothed her skirt and stepped up through the front door, closing it behind her. The front room spread before her, festooned with streamers in a riot of colors, and hung with a banner that read "Happy Birthday, Devin.". On the table sat a cake and seventeen candles, unlit, but with a matchbook handy. She smiled, and sat smoothly on the edge of the couch, crossing her legs and composing her hands on her knees. Just the hint of a smile fluttered about her face.

If you start a war of surprises with Rachelle, you had better be prepared to lose.

This is lucky number thirteen of #TNCmy100 where I write 100 story hooks in sixty days. This is more like a whole flash piece, but I'm counting it.

~Cristof