A Deadly Dozen

20260209

Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Flash Fiction February Day 9”.

“Looks like we’re going to be the Deadly Twelve, again.” John cast a disapproving glare at Chuck’s empty seat.
“Does rather ruin the, ah, theme, doesn’t it?” Henry tsked. “But who knows how long he’ll take. I say we start now.”
Everyone else nodded. Most getting snacks and drinks out of their bags. These meet-ups were never catered. Far more suitably secure for everyone to bring their own refreshments.
It wasn’t that they didn’t trust each other. Not at all.
“So. Anyone had a noteworthy hunt since last time?”
“Well.” Ralph said with relish, leaning forwards and flashing that cherubic grin which led the unwary to underestimate him. “I got contacted by a member of the clergy. A blessed silence-the-whistleblower mission! Nearly fell out of my seat. Actual hunt was a bit of a let-down, but still, that’s a personal first for the list, eh?”
Everyone nodded and murmured approval.
“I’ve got an interesting group hunt lined up.” Derrick lolled in his seat, one arm flung over the back of his chair. “Can’t say anything more about it yet, though. Only that I won’t be at the next meeting. In fact, I’ll likely be out of the country.”
“Oho?” Henry quirked an eyebrow, as intrigued as everyone else. “Then we’ll be looking forward to hearing from you meet after next.”
Derrick smirked and flashed a thumbs-up.
“For me business has been in a slump.” Henry grimaced and shrugged. “Nothing this month.”
Sympathetic murmurs rippled around the room.
“Ah, well, that’s how it goes.” Ralph said bracingly. “Ups and downs. Don’t take it personally. Happens to all of us.”
“I know, just keeping a close eye on my savings and being active about finding opportunities. Hopefully I’ll have something to report next time.”
As he looked towards John a ceiling tile clattered down, causing everyone to leap to their feet, most reaching for weapons. Before anyone could register what it was the bomb exploded into a cloud of dark vapour which plunged the small stuffy room into choking chaos.
Where was the door?? Had someone shut off the vents? The lack of windows in here was suddenly not an attractive feature.
Hacking coughs started turning muffled as lungs filled with fluid. Panic was setting in.
Ralph’s fumbling hands managed to find the door, then the handle - and no matter how he twisted it and rattled it and threw himself against the door it wouldn’t budge.
Had it been… locked? From the outside, or…
He crumpled, his hand frozen around the unyielding handle. Until gloved fingers gently peeled him loose.
“Well.” Henry looked across the scattered corpses. One short of the deadly dozen he’d been contracted to carry out. He’d checked each one thoroughly to make sure the work was done - and pocketed anything incriminating. No point letting the fuzz have something so valuable. “Trust Chuck to put a crimp in an otherwise flawless plan. I’ll just have to deal with him the messy way.”
He picked up his briefcase - which was packed in preparation of just such a complication. And let himself out into the hall.
Nobody would think to check the room for hours. This place barely got rented out, much less during the day. By the time anyone discovered what had happened here, there’d be no trace of the chemicals left.
Once down the hall he judged it safe to remove his gas mask. Had any of them seen what he’d pulled out, when the bomb dropped? Presumably not, since none of them had gone for him. Their gaze had been on the sudden threat - just as he’d expected.
Mask in a plastic bag. Bag sealed and stashed in the briefcase. A quick once-over to make sure there was nothing to distinguish him from any office worker who’d popped out to a lunchtime meet.
Now then.
He set off down the hallway with a brisk, nonchalant gait. The sort any city folk’s eyes would skim right over.
One hand slipped into his pocket to fiddle with his trusty butterfly knife.
If he knew Chuck… the fool would be leaving the bathroom right about now. How best to go about this?
It didn’t do to leave a job hanging, after all. They’d all say the same.

Prompt was “Write a story about a meeting of assassins who all gather in one place to discuss their work. What they don’t know is that one of them has also been contracted to kill all the others…”