Creating a distraction was the easy part. With a casual flick of the wrist, I sent the kids scampering towards their target.
Seven little ones raced through the open-air market, kicking up billowy clouds of dust as they darted effortlessly between the crowds of gawking tourists and the rows of scheming vendors.
Moments later, they had the old woman surrounded, chattering like monkeys while tugging on her heavy woolen jacket.
My opening.
I stepped into space behind her. I quickly plunged the compact syringe before emptying the cloudy liquid into the back of her leg.
She didn’t feel a thing.
The Weekday One Hundred 