Rain

Three: Hunter/Hunted

A/N: Kyros Bancroft aesthetic.

The train in front of me rushes into the station, wind whipping everywhere as it squeaks and groans to a halt.

There's still two days between me and the Koraki mission, but tomorrow night, I have to go to a New Byzantinian gala to pull off the elimination of the corrupted governor. The train will take me from Lystra into the heart of the capital, to get some supplies, recon the area, and hopefully check on Brynn while I'm at it.

I hand my ticket to the attendant by the doors, taking my seat on the cushy but faded reddish leather seats. The luxury of New Byzantine is not lost here, even in public transportation. With earbuds blasting music through my skull, I lean back and close my eyes as I wait for the train to fill up with well-to-dos going who knows where. I barely notice the pinch of the handgun on my skin under my shirt.

When I first started working for Argos, the knowledge that I was dangerous had terrified me. Everywhere I went, the weapons I always had on me and the training I knew were a reminder of the destruction I could cause, of the fear that would fill hearts if they knew who I was or what I could do. I was a living, breathing hurricane, taught and ready to strike any who would stand in the way of the powers above me. Not anymore. One of the first things that Gwen taught me was that those weaker than the power are powerless. To be powerful, you have to swallow your grief and replace it with strength. There is no longer any grief left to haunt my tired bones; not when there is daylight, anyway. I am powerful because I do not feel. I've finally made myself strong enough to stand alone.

The man by the door calls out for the final stragglers to make their way in, and before long, the train begins its movement with a hiss.

The ride to the city isn't terribly long, especially considering how massive and far away the capitol is, so I settle down for the hour-long ride.

I'm soon rudely interrupted.

About half an hour in, my phone goes off like a siren from the table it's resting on in front of me. With a start caused by taught reflexes, I snap to attention and answer it quickly. Callista's panicky voice greets me on the other end.

"Change of plans. Do you have a weapon on you?" Callista asks, not giving time to answer before continuing.

"Pff. Of course you do, why am I asking. Nerves. Holy crap. Okay. Koraki is on the train you're on. Right now." she says, voice trembling with adrenaline. I feel my heart rate speed up. I don't have a whole lot of time to work with now.

"How do you know?" I ask, controlling my voice to sound casual rather than tense.

"The phone just went off again. There's no guard with him. Row 15, B-side of the train. Put your earpiece in and go," Callie says, hanging up to give me time to get ready.

Moving quickly, I put in the earpiece, which, thanks to Canaan's insane technology, quickly registers that it's being used and goes invisible.

This is routine to me: mechanical movements, cold and calculating, carry me to my feet and towards the front end of the train. The goal is simple: take him out, quietly if possible, and end this war of misery that has been raging for nearly two years now.

"Can you see him?" Callista asks frantically, and I mumble a "yes" under my breath to avoid suspicion.

His back is turned to me, but I can pick up a few clues to try and assess what kind of situation I'm entering. He's younger than I thought he would be, probably not too far from my own age, with a head of dark hair hanging slightly over his ears. Not quite untrimmed, but not quite well-kept either. Unexpected, considering his position of high power. Broad shoulders indicate that he's strong and well-built, meaning if this were to come down to a fight, it might not go too well for me if I'm not cautious. I can see the back of his shoulders, and the edge of his leg as it pokes out slightly from his seat. His attire is not that of the New Byzantine elite, but street clothes more likely to be found in the dome where I grew up or on a Saturday in CANAAN. Unusual, to say the least. A small part of me wonders if Callista might be wrong, or if this is a trap.