Jetyra remembered every moment of that day. She remembered how Daniel’s hand shook with the weight of the frying pan that was anchored down with Canadian bacon at breakfast time. She remembered the songs that were playing on the radio when they drove to the restaurant in celebration of their recent engagement. Jetyra also remembered watching her fiancé get shot at multiple times by the person she never thought would cross them- their boss Don.
Jetyra, or Jet, was an assassin alongside her late fiancé Daniel. Together they’d take orders from Don and carry them out. But now that was impossible, and it hurt Jet to remember the deceitful actions of Don.
Don claimed to have done it as a courtesy to her. He said Daniel was the weaker of the pair, and that he was weighing her down, distracting her from her true calling: not love, but murder.
Jetyra strongly disagreed, claiming Daniel was the only thing she’d had a passion for and that the killing sprees were just to be near him and to protect him and to feed them day in and out. Don waved it off, and in turn, Jetyra slashed his throat.
Today Jetyra continues to travel the world in search of Daniel’s parents. They had the right to know what had happened to their son, and Jet made it a point to have it done in person. She’d never met them, but she felt great compassion for them.
Jetyra never lost sight of her goal in the months following Daniel’s death; she’d go killing all the mob bosses and assassins alike that she could find to finally rid the world of unneeded death.

The taxi screeched to a halt on the icy blacktop in front of the airport entrance.
“Your stop, miss.”
“Thank you.” Jetyra mumbled and handed him a chunk of cash from her back pocket.
“Need help with your bags?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Jet answered immediately. The man didn’t push it any further, and Jet made her way to the trunk. Inside were her two bags; one bag was long and slender with a strap for her shoulder and the other was filled to the brim with clothes.
Jet slung the one around her right shoulder and gripped the other tightly. The wintry wind of January whipped through her hair. Her skin tingled and begged for her to find refuge inside the presumably toasty airport. Her skin got its wish, and soon Jetyra was inside among many other travelers.
Jet was on her way to Alaska. There was a boss there who was rumored to have killed many of his employees simply because they were too emotionally attached to anything but their job. Jetyra was seeing a pattern among the bosses, and it only made her situation more real.
Her spiked heels made a staccato-like pattern on the linoleum floors as she rushed towards check-in. The knee-high boots that were concealed under form-fitting jeans were not comfortable shoes to be wearing on a long flight, but they were Jetyra’s favorite to wear on a mission.
The check-in counters appeared empty, a sight that Jet thrilled to. She hated waiting, as was proven by the tapping noise the boots made on the shiny floors while she stood behind an elderly couple struggling to find their tickets. They smiled back at her in an apologizing manner, but Jetyra did not smile back at them, but merely continued tapping.
The couple finally completely the transaction, and with another apologetic smile, left for their destination.
Jet lunged forward and began touching the screen and scanning her tickets. She did everything fast so that she’d be on the plane quicker, a sure bet she’d make it to Juneau to meet this boss.
With the tickets still in her hand and her luggage held tightly in her hands, she sprinted to the security.
Many thoughts ran through her head.
Would they buy her story?
Would they see through her phony act?
Would they confiscate what she had kept hidden so well up until now?
There was no time for second thoughts. Jetyra stepped forward and smiled pleasantly at the security guard.
“Good evening, sir. Mighty fine weather we’re havin’ tonight.”
“You like this weather?” He eyed her curiously and accepted her bags.
“Yes, sir. Why, I’m going to Alaska! I love it there. Gorgeous, winter or summer!” Jetyra giggled in a way that sickened her. The fake southern accent was already getting on her nerves, and her true voice itched to escape.
“You can’t be from here in Michigan. Where are you from?”
“Alabama! Real pretty there, too. Never could say a bad thing about it. Unfortunately my sister needed some help up here in Michigan and I just couldn’t let her down. Her husband left her and I was the first person who she could turn to. Poor dear.”
“Ma’am...why do you have a gun?”
“Oh that old thing?” Jetyra put a hand on her chest. “I loved hunting back in ‘bama! Best sport of them all, my father used to say. Poor papa got shot one day hunting though. A stray bullet came hurtling through the trees and shot him dead right into the snow. He died happy, though.” Jetyra let her eyes fall to the floor in an act of remembrance. “I’ve got my license for that pretty little number right here in my left pocket. Could never resist a good huntin’ season in Alaska. Sister Susie said it would be all right if I left for a couple weeks to stay at a lodge and spend some quality time with Trig.”
“Trig?” He asked while looking over the license.
“My gun, silly.” Jetyra patted his arm. “Alaska is a good time, that’s for sure.”
“Well, you have fun miss Anna Louise. Hope to see you soon, miss.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” Jetyra walked through the metal detector with her two bags. She smiled brightly at the security guards on either side of her. Once she was out of their view, the southern belle act faded and she was herself again.
The plane she was going to board was outside. Everybody that was going to Alaska walked across the frigid pavement bundled up inside their huge winter coats. The staircase that lead you up into the plane seemed to move further away with each step.
Jetyra quickened her pace and became the leader of the pack. In reality, Jetyra despised the cold. She preferred hot summer days. Daniel had loved winter. He said he saw beauty in it, fragility. Jetyra tried to see what he meant, but she couldn’t. She didn’t see how frosty wind was somehow a gift from nature, or how soggy, salty snow was something to be looked at with wide eyes. Still to this day, she tried to open her eyes and see what Daniel had loved.
These were the days when Jet hated her own guts. She became angry with herself when she imprisoned herself in a plane for hours next to infected passengers. She rarely caught their colds, but she did feel sickened by their snotty tissues that somehow found their way into her lap. Jet stepped up the platform with one gloved hand on the railing. The others followed her cautiously, being careful not to slip on the icy stairs. Jet didn’t care. She just wanted it all to be over.
Her seat was near the back, which was not something she planned on enjoying. The engine was loud and rumbling already, and the sound made her head ache. She began to wonder once again why she ever took on the job of killing all the assassins known to her. If it weren’t for the list of acquaintances she’d found in her boss’ office and the itch in her stomach to cross off each once individually like a clue for a crossword puzzle, she’s be at home quietly and patiently wasting away.