Beware The Minji's Special

"I must admit: you have impressed me during these last few assignments, Kenneth. I think if we remain a tight unit, you are sure to make quite a name for yourself in this industry."

"Ah, all due respect and all. I, uh, think my name is pretty much anonymous with the best assassins in the biz, you know?"

"... Synonymous?"

"What?"

"Did you mean to say your name is synonymous with the best assassins in the business?"

"Yeah! Sure, why not? And honestly, Villy, can you please call me Kenny already? Saying 'Kenneth' reminds me of every time I was sent down to Sister Ava's office when I got in trouble and believe it or not, it was plenty of times."

"Yes... I would very much doubt otherwise."

As they packed up their gear at the midtown hideout following a successful termination of a rising star in Toronto's illegal gun trade on behalf of the ruling star in the city's gun trade, weathered veteran Rachel Villy winced as she bandaged up her left forearm after tussling with the target's numerous bodyguards.

"Yikes that looks bad, Vill. We should head into medical when we're done here. They have a secret med spot that's like ten minutes away."

"Kennet-- Kenny. If we are going to finally compromise on the name front, as you know, mine is Rachel. My arm is fine, I have been through much worse. By the way, thank you for handling those... nuisances. I... do not know why I was unable to subdue the initial guard. Before I could compose myself, his switchblade had already slashed my arm."

"Don't worry about it. Thankfully I was there though. I, uh, won't write about this in my report or nothing but I noticed your hand was kinda twitching again when you were holding the syringe. Now I'm not a doctor of course but do you think you should maybe... Get it checked out or something? Not to overstep or anything, I'm fine with it 'cause I managed to get the guard easy peasy but I mean this for you, you know? I, uh, need you to mentor me for the long run. When I eventually get a trainee I want to show you off: the woman who taught me everything I know haha."

Rachel politely smiled as her dark eyes remained vacant. She knew her capabilities were gradually diminishing with every second that went by. Her previous apprentices certainly brought up the same issue Kenny expressed yet she refused to entertain the idea of stepping away from the life she has known for the last three decades.

"Well... I certainly look forward to seeing you eclipse me as being The Fisher Group's longest lasting asset. Until that day comes, however, we have our equipment to load."

"Oh definitely! Uh, so Rach, I wanted to let you know that Director Fletcher said she wanted to talk with me about something next week. Do you have any idea what it would be? I mean you said I've been pretty solid the last few gigs right? I just hope she isn't firing me or anything."

Rachel's right eye twitched briefly when she heard 'Rach.'

"Yes, actually. I did not want to ruin the surprise but Elena spoke with me about a potential... upgrade in your... title of profession."

"Wait. You mean like a promotion? Holy shit, Rachel, am I getting promoted?! Oh my god. Ha! How long did you know about this and you didn't tell me? Ah man, I guess I'm getting closer to taking over your title now, huh? You little sneaky Villy!"

It was at this point when Rachel wished the tumor gradually engulfing her brain would miraculously overtake her entire body. Despite handling the worst of the worst throughout her career, it was Kenny's incessant joy that she would consider to be a potential war crime. At the very least, cruel and unusual punishment.

Kenneth would never appreciate just how difficult this life can be. He has no possible understanding of the dedication he has to put in to even begin to have a morsel of the recognition I've received. He's attained this level because of me and my hard work. Just like the rest of them. No. I'm doing the right thing. Minji's is a must in this case. It has to be.

"Aha! You... got me there, Kenny. It seems as though you are reaching the peak faster than I can handle. I suppose it is only fitting we celebrate your imminent advancement with a trip to... Minji's Diner?"

"No way... No. Are you serious? Shut up. Yes! No way, yes! Oh man, Sandra is going to be so pissed when I get home and tell her I made Minji's before her."

"Now I am certain, with how well-versed you seem to be on countless Fisher matters, you are aware that no one is to speak of Minji's except with their respective handler or other top Fisher authority figures, yes?"

"Um... Yes. Of course, sir. I wouldn't dream about it. Promise. Uh, Assassin's Honor."

"Perfect. How does tonight sound?"

"Sooner the better! But it's super late, Rach. Almost 3:30 am. Are they even open?"

"Well similarly to us, Minji's is not familiar with the concept of sleep."

"Man I am so pumped. During, uh, not-orientation, Sandy and I heard it through the Group grapevine that you and Dir. Fletcher were part of the very first people who started Minji's up?"

Rachel's forearm throbbed and her head ached as Kenny continued his prattling but she could not pass up the opportunity to relay what was the prime of her existence. She beamed recalling how overjoyed Elena was when they first entered the newly established classified retreat, every intricate detail of her elated face seared in Rachel's memory.

"We were the ones who organized the creation of the entire diner, actually. When Elena and I joined The Fisher Group, it was only us and a handful of other recruits tackling incredibly arduous tasks. Certainly not like how it is now what with the... numerous assets spread out across the world and the inconceivable technology at our disposal. At the time, we were delighted at the prospect of enduring such intriguing missions but eventually recognized we needed a space for all of us to unwind and leave work elsewhere for awhile. Elena and I brought the idea to Mr. Fisher himself and alas, Minji's Diner was born."

"... Damn. You've seen some shit, huh?"

Rachel let out a chuckle.

"I certainly have... Now Kenny, my arm seems to be acting up. Do you suppose you can handle heading down to Minji's and grabbing us a table? I will be by shortly."

"H... Head down myself? Is that... like, okay?"

"Of course. When you step outside the hideout, take a right and head down for about two minutes. You will see an abandoned building. There will be a small purple dot in the middle of the first brick you lay your eyes on, head to the right of that brick down a short alleyway. You will know you have arrived when you spot a small keypad beside a dark grey door. Here is my Minji's identification card, scan the keypad and head inside."

Rachel hands Kenny a weighted black card.

"How are you supposed to get in there without your card?"

"Don't worry about that - I know what the code is for the keypad."

"So.. what uh... there's no magic word or anything I should know about?"

"The magic word is if you unsuccessfully scan the keypad more than twice, you will be knocked unconscious by the security team hidden in the area."

A bead of sweat quickly runs down Kenny's forehead.

"O... kay. Um, sounds good! I'll see you there." Rachel grabs his arm before he exits the hideout.

"Wait! Make sure to order a Minji's Special."

"Ooh sounds fancy, what is it?"

"It's to die for."

"Wicked. See you there, Rach."

***

A drenched Kenny makes his way to a seat at the quiet diner and opens a menu set at the table. He is the lone patron. His heart is finally given a moment to stop racing as he removes his rain-soaked coat and uses the complimentary napkins to dab his forehead. It remains unknown what molecules were that of precipitation or perspiration.

"Welcome to Minji's. ID, please."

Kenny nervously hands over the black card to the white-haired waiter with a stunning physique.

"Ah, you must be Ms. Villy's latest recruit. Will she be joining you?"

"Yup. She's coming by in a bit. She recommended I get something called a... Minji's Special? I don't see it on the menu but I'll trust her judgement."

The waiter looked at Kenny and smiled.

"Of course, sir. I will be back with your food."

"Hey ah, just so you know - Rach mentioned she knew the combo to the keypad but I didn't see any numbers on it. She probably just forgot or something, we had a long night. When she gets here, could you just make sure to let her in?"

"No problem. It'll be one moment for the Special."

After a few minutes, the waiter returns with the platter. To Kenny's surprise, the Minji's "Special" is truly anything but. A seemingly plain cheeseburger with a garden salad and a Dr. Pepper.

The famished assassin aims to wait for his mentor, not realizing just how long it had been since he last ate.

He and Rachel were on observing duty for what felt like eternity when surveying their target from earlier in the night.

He succumbs to the temptation; eagerly gorging on the savory beef patty and hungrily devouring the soggy cheddar and feta cheese. When he finishes off the salad and drink, he sits back, completely content with the specialness of this burger.

As he reaches for the menu to see what the mystifying diner offers for dessert, he suddenly begins to feel his throat close up quick. He reaches for his near empty cup and attempts to pour the melted ice cubes into the back of his throat striving for some kind of relief to no avail.

He's dying and he knows it.

A bewildered look finally comes across his face when he realizes why the burger's cheese slice was as damp as it was. It must have been coated with MxTS7 - the remarkably lethal, odor-free drug Fisher exclusively utilizes for its prime targets whose deaths are ultimately attributed to as being from "natural causes."

One drop of MxTS7 from a pipette is enough to knock out Luca Brassi. Kenny tragically registers the personal nature of this hit. As he rapidly loses consciousness, his last few moments are that of regret and his decision to ignore the warning signs of his handler.

He dies.

The strapping mature waiter returns and heaves Kenny over his shoulder, bringing him to a room at the back of the kitchen labeled "No Entry. Employees Only."

***

Rachel Villy returns home, exhausted and bandaged. As she drops the equipment bag in her office, she receives a text message from her contact "MD."

It reads: "Thank you for your patronage. The Special is no longer available for purchase until further notice."

She smiles as she sits in her old reclining chair and looks longingly at her Wall Of Successes, as she refers to it. An entire area dedicated to her numerous certificates of excellence and achievements in being an essential component of The Fisher Group. She gently rubs the back of her neck and looks at her reflection in the pristine pearl Fisher awarded her to commemorate thirty years as she whispers:

"Best in the biz."

*

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