Chaos

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter 32

Outside of Shifters’ Den

Chaos

A twig snapped to my left. I held my breath, my heart jumping into my throat. I smelled the air around me and all I could smell was food. A small bunny poked his head out of a bush. After a quick survey, the bunny snatched his head back into the safety of the bush. The bunny reappeared a moment later and bounded across the small clearing and safely hopped into another bush.

I wiped away the sweat from my forehead, the midday heat was hot and sweltering. I opened my water bottle and took a swig of refreshing cold water. I fastened the lid back onto the water bottle and slipped it back into my bag before I continued to pick my way through the forest. I was almost close to the south wall of the Den.

I spotted my familiar spot to breach the Den. I repeated my ritual and reburied the hole. A loud click sounded. I paused and smelled the distinct metallic scent of a gun. Carefully, I spun around and came face to face with Josh. We each stared at each other, not saying a word.

Annoyed at the time I was wasting by just staring at Josh, I grunted, “Any chance of you letting me slip by again?”

For the longest moment, I actually believed he was going to shoot me, but in the end, he raised his gun. “My Grandmé would be disappointed if I didn’t.” With that cryptic message, he spun on his heels and continued his patrol.

Note to self, Find out who Grandmé is. I returned to my current mission and began to stalk towards the communication shed. I still had my blonde wig on top of my head, hiding the striking purple hair. I had charcoal colored eye contacts in and I wore non-descriptive jeans and a plain blue tee shirt. I had on my white Adidas sneakers and ankle high black socks. Nothing that would make me standout in the distance or attach attention.

On my shoulder was my trusty black backpack and inside my backpack was a simple sundress that would help me crash the President’s luncheon. I began to strategize worse case scenarios and possible escape routes on my trek to the shed. After my two minute trek, the communication shed stood out. Cautiously, I walked across the open space to the shed. My shoulders were hunched and my head tucked into my chest, not allowing anyone to study my facial features.

I easily slipped into the shed as a shifter walked out, catching the door before it latched shut. I shrugged the backpack higher onto my shoulder and took a quick survey of the room. To my surprise the communication shed was extremely unorganized. People where shouting to one another, the phones where constantly ringing, cursing littered the air, and other people were walking in and out of the shed. However, after a second glance, I realized the communication shed was controlled. Even though people shouted and moved to and fro, there wasn’t any mass chaos going on.

My eyes skirted around the room as I tried to find my prey, Ryan Fischer. I spotted his brown mop of hair in his corner cubicle. His entire body was fidgety. He jumped every time someone spoke to him or walked up behind him. His hand kept touching his pocket as if to reassure himself.

I began walking towards him, when Ryan shoved his chair backwards and scurried to the bathroom. I changed my course and followed him. With all of that was going around me, no one noticed a female slipping into the men’s bathroom. Once the door clicked shut, I slid the dead bolt across.

Ryan turned around and began to say something, when he visible paled. He shook his head and whispered, “No.” He opened his mouth to call for help, but unfortunately, he never was able to make a sound. A hard jab to his stomach had him doubling over in pain. My right foot sweep his feet out behind him. I sent another right hook to his head and clipped him just below the left temple. I quickly clapped my hand over his and leaned into his ear.

“Say one word louder than a whisper and I’ll make you beg for mercy.” His eyes widened even further than I thought possible. With my hand still clamped to his mouth, I forced him back into the wall. My free hand dug into his pants’ pocket and pulled out a tiny microchip. I held the microchip between my index and middle finger.

With a whisper, I breathed into Ryan’s face. “Is this what you were going to give Peter?”

Ryan nodded his head furiously.

“Anything else?”

This time he shook his head. I tucked the tiny chip into my back pocket and patted my jeans. Then I dramatically pulled out my small throwing knife that is always nestled on my left forearm. I tormented him by gently dragging the tip of the blade across his check, careful not to draw blood.

In a sickly sweet voice, I whispered, “Do you know what I do to traitors, Ryan?”

He shook his head, his eyes never moving from the knife. I laughed gently. I leaned in and smelled his terror, thick and poignant. I removed the knife from his cheek and caressed the blade with my tongue. Then in a quick movement, I slashed Ryan across his neck, cutting his jugular. His blood sprayed out in spasmodic spurts, coating the entire bathroom with his blood. I pulled my knife out of his neck and wiped the blood on my jeans.

In a soft voice I answered my own question. “I kill them.”

I hated turncoats, especially since one killed Bones. They were pitiless creatures that didn’t deserve a second chance. They had no loyalty and no honor. They were scum of the scum. If one had no morals or honor than what did one have?

I walked over to the sink and yanked free a wad of paper towels. With quick and efficient movements, I successfully cleaned my skin and knife of blood. My clothes were ruined, but I didn’t plan on wearing the outfit ever again, so no real lost. I raised my wrist to check the time. I swore colorfully, I was ten minutes behind schedule. With ease of a skilled escape artist, I hauled my body out of the men’s bathroom through the tiny window.

***

Falkon

My eyes tracked the follow of people, never lingering too long, but staying long enough to stop trouble. Derek stood next to me in the same uniform I wore. A black tuxedo, tailored to fit each of us snuggly, but with room to move. A small waiter walked by and offered us a chute of champagne. We both shook our heads and she wander off with her tray.

The chatter in the background was muffled by the consent talking in my ear piece. Each sector called in for the hourly check up. So far nothing was wrong, no hint of anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t like it. My lion paced back and forth, agreeing with me. He didn’t like the stillness in the air one bit.

I looked over to Derek. “I have a bad feeling about today.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak, but Logan began his speech introduce the President of the United States.

So, what did you think? Please comment and tell me your opinions!