#AK-47

October 1, 2008.  An ordinary corporate worker-bee, Diane was on her way home, tired from spreadsheet-gazing, aggravated with the usual traffic on I-635. She yawned, and something to her left caught her eye. A tinted window rolled down an inch, the eye of a pistol appeared, and she felt a sudden sting.

The car went into a tailspin, and Diane had a dream. Ancestors hung like clouds all around her as she floated down a river. A queen pressed a moist hand to her cheek and said, “Whoa Silla, look all around you. Look who is behind you. Your back is strong. Get up.”

Diane snapped awake. She couldn’t feel her feet, so she pulled herself up by her hands, gripping the blood-smeared metal and broken glass to lift up and out of the car. She dragged herself to the shoulder of the freeway. The car exploded.  

Her gut said the intelligence community made a mistake and targeted the wrong woman. She joined Assassination City, a group of rogue assassins who helped her recover and trained her in extermination.