Chapter 3
Ashlyn was relaxing in her whirlpool bathtub. Her head was back and her eyes were closed. She was drifting, somewhere in that place between sleep and consciousness. In her dreamlike thoughts she was a child, sitting on the beach between her parents. It was a beautiful day, her mother had packed a picnic, and the family was staring out onto the water as they ate. Ashlyn was smiling and was halfway through her sandwich when two men walked up to her family. They were wearing Italian cut suits. One of them smiled at her, and then pulled out a gun…
Ashlyn’s eyes popped open as she started awake. Her hand instinctually went for the 9mm on the nearby toilet seat, and she looked around quickly for a moment. She took a deep breath and then looked at the clock in the bathroom. It was close to midnight. She had arrived home over an hour ago from Little Italy. Everything had gone according to plan. She closed her eyes and went back to drifting, and her thoughts took her back to when it had all started. She was living with her grandmother and about to graduate from an elite high school in a wealthy Chicago suburb. It had been a year since the tragedy that had struck her family had occured. She had inherited a large sum of money and could have done anything with her life, but she found herself meandering through college classes, searching for meaning and purpose in her life. That search soon lead her to the army. She dropped out of college, enlisted in boot camp, and then went through basic combat training. Her journey took a shot in the arm when an instructor suggested she consider trying out for the Army’s Special Forces. Ashlyn signed on and undertook the grueling six month course to become qualified to don the Green Beret. The training was every bit as intense as she had heard it would be. Tracking and surveillance. Hand to hand combat. Advance weapon tactics. Explosives and demolitions. Electronics and circuitry. Sniper training. Ashlyn was in good shape from her days as a varsity soccer player in high school, but the training pushed her beyond what she had ever thought she could achieve physically. What surprised Ashlyn the most, however, was that, even more than being physical, the training was largely psychological. As the army’s experts in unconventional warfare, the Special Forces are trained first and foremost in problem solving. Unlike the enlisted soldiers in the regular army who follow specific sets of orders, Special Forces operators learn from day one that nothing goes according to plan. Working in small teams, they are taught to solve problems on the fly and improvise in the field. Ashlyn learned to think on her feet and react instantly to any situation. The ability to do that, coupled with the myriad of skills that she had learned, made her one of the deadliest soldiers the U.S. Army has ever produced.
Ashlyn opened her eyes. Yes, she thought. The army trained me well. She had been honorably discharged just under two years ago, after spending six years serving in the Special Forces, operating in some of the most unforgiving environments in the world. Since being discharged, she had worked non-stop on her plan, to eliminate the criminal underworld of Chicago and make the city a safer place. She had briefly considered joining the police force, but after serving in the Special Forces, she doubted that she would be well suited in an organization mired in procedures and hampered by due process. Justice needs to be served, and bad people need to be punished, whether or not the law can provide that. She relaxed for another minute, then stood up and got out of the bathtub. She dried herself off and then put on a pair of jeans and a tank top that hugged the curves of her chiseled physique. She walked into her granite-countertopped kitchen and poured a glass of water from the Brita filter in the sub-zero fridge. Her condo was on the second floor of a refurbished building in Chicago’s north side Lincoln Park neighborhood. It was a nice, modern condo, and it was paid in full. The only benefit to the tragedy, Ashlyn thought – I have money and don’t need to work. Not that I would have ever traded that for what happened, but as it stands, I can concentrate on what really matters – my mission. Coincidentally, her condo was located not far from where the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, the most infamous mob-related slayings in Chicago, had occurred. The coincidence of her condo's location, and the irony that she was waging a one-woman war against organized crime in Chicago, was not lost on Ashlyn.
Ashlyn took a sip of water and then stepped out onto the balcony. The warm summer nighttime air blew across her face. She looked up and down the street, taking in the sights of Lincoln Avenue after midnight. Even on a Sunday people were out and about. Lincoln Park was one of the hippest areas in Chicago for young people, and crowds of twenty-and-thirty somethings caroused the bars seven nights a week. Ashlyn’s eyes roamed the street, and her gaze settled on a couple, maybe late twenties or early thirties, holding hands, one girl walking slightly in front of the other as they strolled down the street. The girl in the back said something and smiled, and the girl in front laughed and leaned her head back slightly. The girl in back leaned forward, and the couple kissed as they stopped in front of a bar. It would be nice, Ashlyn thought, to have someone in my life like that. She flashed back to when she had first experienced romantic feelings, dating boys in junior high, then making that discovery in high school and dating girls instead. She had withdrawn from social interaction after the tragedy, but had tried again in college, and she thought about what could have been considered her first and only real girlfriend. That hadn’t lasted long, she thought with a shake of her head, and then she thought about her mission, and the whole reason she had joined the army, to acquire the skills she would need to successfully pull it off. Nothing could get in the way of success, she told herself. She couldn’t have any distractions. At least not right now. Maybe when she was done, she would open herself up to exploring a more personal part of life - love.
Ashlyn looked out onto the street for a few more minutes and then finished her glass of water and went inside. She put the glass in the sink and then turned on the TV to WGN news. A reporter was talking about the shootings that had taken place on Taylor Street earlier in the evening. She was dubbing it a possible “all-out mafia versus gang war”, and she was interviewing the special agent in charge of the investigation. Ashlyn stared at the screen. The agent was a stunning brunette, with long hair and a laser-like focus in her brown eyes. The graphics across the screen identified her as Special Agent Ali Krieger, Joint Organized Crime Taskforce. Ashlyn knew about JOCT, the new government agency in charge of coordinating the fight against organized crime between federal and local law enforcement groups. She smiled slightly, thinking that JOCT should put her on their payroll, maybe as an unidentified contractor. Not that she needed the money, but the thought still made her smile. I’m getting rid of bad guys for you, she mused. Ashlyn tuned back in as Special Agent Krieger spoke into the reporter’s microphone:
“...we want a Chicago where law-abiding citizens can leave their homes without fear of being subjected to a violent crime. Our goal is to eliminate crime and make Chicago a safer place for everyone, and we won’t stop pursuing the criminal elements in this city until we do…”
Ashlyn took in what the agent said, and slowly nodded her head. I’m in agreement with you, Special Agent Beautiful. But, you’re moving too slow. That’s why I’m not stopping either. She turned off the TV and headed into her bedroom. As she went to turn off the light, she looked at the photo on her dresser. She was eight years old, and she was with her mother and father. They were sitting on the beach, having a picnic. Ashlyn looked at the photo and thought what she always thought every time she looked at the photo: I love you guys and miss you, and I promise to make the world a safer place, so nothing like what happened to us will ever happen to anyone else. A tear formed in her eye, and she wiped it away. Then she turned off the light, and crawled into bed and thought. She had been out of the Special Forces for two years now, and had been meticulously planning ever since, researching, tracking, and coming up with ways to eliminate both the Marano family and the Chicago Disciples. Any other criminals she came across would be eliminated as well. And, she was close to being done. Maybe a month or so away, and then maybe, just maybe, she could rest, knowing that she had done what she could. She closed her eyes, slowed her breathing, and fell into a light asleep.