Outside, the moon rose over Chicken Island. Somewhere, a phone rang. A woman in white picked up.
“…No.”
His vest buzzed. The voice of his manager, Dai Bo, crackled through a hidden speaker. “Seven. You’ve been a fern for twenty minutes. Kill him or come home. The electricity bill is due.” scissor seven assassin
She said nothing. Just looked at a pair of scissors on her desk—matching Seven’s. Outside, the moon rose over Chicken Island