The Target

"Word just came in, target has finally arrived in New York!" Ronald shouted, as he saw us walk in.

"How does the 'word' come in? Who makes the 'word' come in?!" Seb asked.

"Y'all will be shocked by the number of people who hate Griezmann." Shawn the 'youngster?' Said in an almost normal voice for once. The only problem was his thumb, index, and pinky finger pointing towards us.

"Shawn." I managed a smile, "I said normal. N-O-R-M-A-L..."

"Rumi, we don't have time, you need to prepare yourself before you meet her." Ronald interrupted.

"And how exactly should I prepare?" I asked, quivering one of my eyebrows.

"By knowing her likes and dislikes, obviously! Haven't I taught you anything?!" Seb protested.

"You-"

"He's right." Ronald interrupted me for the second time, SECOND! And slid a classified file towards my end of the olive sofa.

The words 'TOP SECRET' were written in bold red.

"Isn't this overkill?" I asked.

"This is the most important mission you'll ever face! This is certainly not overkill. If it's anything, it's underalive!" Shawn the instructor tried his best in motivating me.

I opened the white file, removing the paper clips from the top right section. To my surprise the file and its contents were well organised into different sections comprised of; Food, Drinks, favourite places to visit, favourite brands, music preference, celeb crush, and more confusingly unnecessary topics all compiled in beautiful columns, 'they really go all out eh!'. After a few minutes of reading cringy likes, I looked up and said, "Whoever compiled this, seriously needs a job." I chuckled.

"It is his job, Rumi" Shawn the boaster commented as he admired his work. "It's a masterpiece isn't it?" He asked, and for a second I thought it might be a rhetorical question seeing how thrilled he was by his work.

"Yes indeed even Leonardo Da Vinci would shy away after reading this."

"Really?!" His eyes sparkled, (A sarcasm less soul! Poor Poor SOUL!)

I nodded, and shifted my attention to something that was bothering me for a while.

"Shawn," I grasped his attention before he could leave for 'other matters', "Umm... Shawn, why is that you could compile so much about her, but couldn't find a picture?" I finished in a stern voice.

"Well... the thing is," Shawn the shy fidgeted as if trying to confess his love, "The thing is... Sebastien told me not to show you any pictures of the target." He confessed.

"Wait why would Sebastien not want me to know who she is?!" I asked more to myself than questioning him. "Ok, anyways thank you for your work this will surely help me." I thanked him and sat back on the white chair, which was placed next to the olive green couch.

I scanned through the file, her fashion choices, her unusually bad taste in food, who the hell likes chocolate on prawns? Well at least her pizza preference is on par with me; she likes pineapple over pizzas! It's a match made in heaven! 'Control Rumi, Control!! She's just a target, nothing more!' I have only met one person before who liked pineapple on pizza besides me, and that certainly wasn't a match made in heaven.

"Are you ready, kiddo?" Ronald's stern voice snapped me back to reality-where there were no pineapples nor there were any pizzas.

"ah, yes almost." I answered, and continued reading the perfectly detailed file.

After I had grasped a fair amount of information about her likes and dislikes, I closed the file and handed it back to its owner. The next bit was a total shock for me; I saw Shawn the creator throwing his quintessential file in the fire, ironically that was my first time noticing a fireplace in the house.

"There can't be any flaws! Rumi it's up to you now." Shawn's voice was heavy, 'was this his real voice?' Suddenly, I noticed his eyes, they didn't have the shine it possessed earlier; they were hollow- filled with hatred. Although his eyes were showing traces of lack of sleep, his eyes were crying, 'was it a cry for help?' 'was it frustration?' I'd never know. At that moment I realised; He was Shawn the real Shawn who was hiding his sorrow to destroy Griezmann, I finally understood the depth of this 'mission', as I did, I felt a sudden burden on my shoulders, a responsibility. With great power... No no, that's a different story!

"We're on schedule!" Ronald announced, making another dramatic entrance- flopping his hands in the air. (Is he?)

"Just remember Ronald, we're here for you. No need to stay in the closet for any longer!" Seb and I exclaimed in unison.

"You-" He narrowed his eyes and held both our necks, "Why are you standing there Shawn? Join in!" Soon Shawn the rustler, rustled our heads, and the whole group started laughing.

I quickly got into the red SUV from before, I remember Shawn saying (When we first arrived here) that we were near Long Island, and Times Square was just a bridge away. I remember that now, as we turned towards the road leading us to 'that bridge' the Queensboro bridge. We started descending the unexpectedly long bridge, and after continuing straight 2-3 more streets, Shawn the driver turned left and parked the SUV a few streets away from the mall.

"Ahhh I see, no one should know!" I said remembering his words from before.

"No, umm... actually there wasn't any parking there." He grinned and scratched his head, he was slowly coming back to his usual bubbly self.

He stayed in his car, and told me to go ahead, and something like 'you'll know who the target is' so I ventured ahead carefully avoiding the traffic that held thousands of bags in their hands, there were; orange bags, red bags, green bags, it felt like an actual traffic light. But that was the beauty of it- thousands of customers buying hundreds of products.

I still don't know what made me attracted to the small pizzeria on the opposite side of the road, but with its red sign board on which 'papa's pizzeria' was written, made me think of all the memories I had growing up playing those pizza games. Memories of my mother, and I felt somewhere in those memories father was there too, playing, and giggling alongside us.

"Rumi?," I heard a soft, light voice, "I knew it! It is you isn't it!" she said.

At that moment I wish I would've just ignored her or brought up an excuse like 'No I just have one of those faces' or 'No, Rumi is my cousin, we're quite alike', but when I turned I knew she was the target as I saw her sitting on the table, with a pineapple pizza waiting to be eaten, at that moment I knew that Sasha- The Pink Ombre girl, I avoided so much back home, was my target. The daughter of Griezmann, Sasha Griezmann, the only one besides me who loves pineapples on her pizza, was my target.