Phantom Assassin (2015 version)

Chapter 10

The room was dark. Who knew what lurked in the corners... If there even were any corners...

Shallomar smirked, perching on a metal bench across the room. Her eyes glowed bright red, a creepy contrast to the blackness around her.

The age of Shallomar was strange... She seemed to be under ten, but at the same time she looked to be at least fifteen. This puzzling attribute might be useful to her in combat.

"Your insignia seems to know what it's doing. But do you?" She taunted him, standing up on the bench.

Trace smirked. He took her sarcasm as a challenge. "We'll have to see, now won't we?"

Shallomar smirked back at him, crouching for a launch.

"Code 76B11," she hissed. The floor illuminated a bright blue color, but it was made of glass. There was a large gap separating the two assassins, much too large for either of them to jump across. "LPJK8Star." Her eyes shined over with a new shade of red. A bright, sparkling, blood-thirsty red.

And, as Trace continued in his speechless state, Shallomar prepared her insignia for orders. The butterflies cascading down her arms were ready to take flight. They glowed red, just like her eyes.

Large, glowing red wings sprung from her back. Not only were they sharp, but they also looked awfully crooked and morbid. Like the feeling you get when a murderer has a knife in his hands and a lopsided smile smears over his face as he slowly steps towards you, mumbling things about how much he'll enjoy hearing your screams...

She leaped forward, swooping across the big gap. A wing darted forward in less than a second and stopped a millimeter short of Trace's jugular, causing him to let out a gasp. It took him a second to react. And when he did, he leaned back, blinking rapidly and gasping for air, as if she had actually scraped him.

"Trace, your first 'lesson' is to understand that your enemy could use anything as a weapon. Anything. Lucky for you, I'm not interested in slaughtering victims," she smiled as the wings went back into her body, a strange whimsical noise. Like wind rushing over a wheat-filled meadow. "So, I work on defense instead. Try anything." A satisfied expression settled on her features and she opened up her arms, tempting him.

Trace gulped and resorted to buying into her plan. He stared at his mesmerizing purple sword and focused on where he could possibly hit her...

The right arm. Her right arm is vulnerable. A voice in his head ticked with advice. His Modifier?

Trace studied her right arm and discovered that it was indeed vulnerable. Uncovered shoulders were quite becoming, but it would be her undoing.

Slightly hesitating, Trace lunged forward and quick-stepped to the right, flipped around her, and wrapped his arm around her neck. Then, in one fluid movement, he flipped her around and pinned her to the ground, a hand and knee on each side of her to prevent her from escaping.

Her breath heaved on his face as she stared at him. They were only inches apart.

Trace gathered some rather disturbing thoughts but quickly wished them away. The only trace left of them was the slight pink color tickling his cheeks.

"Trace," Shallomar whispered, lifting her head slightly closer to Trace's. Her eyes glimmered red and sparkled brilliantly. "Think of me as a male, not a female. It's for the best." Her red lips were full and her eyebrows creased in stern-ness.

Something clicked in his brain. A sudden motivation. A drive. And he let his body take control over his mind...

Trace smirked at her and lifted her hood from over her face. Then, he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against hers, shutting his eyes peacefully. Wow! What a motivation!