The Girl Called Red

Chapter 11.

My eyes opened slowly, a cruel smile lifting the corners of my cheek. James watched me for a moment, still rigid and ready.

I swung my body around the corner as I heard the door close.

Dick was walking in the opposite direction to me and I watched as he went off. My feet stopped unwillingly. I also knew the other voice. I studied the door my eyes focusing to see that the door of the main office was also metal-lined.

James raised his gun next to me but I held my arm out stopping him.

"Let him find the others. Our target is in this room. I will bet you that as soon as he finds them, he comes running back to his boss."

"How much?" A grin pulled up James' mouth as he lowered his gun and nodded to the door.

"When I am right, you buy a decent brand of instant." Espresso flavour. His face hardened as his grin increased.

"And if you're wrong. I'll take you out for overly sweet, milky coffee." My eyes narrowed as he moved past me towards the door, his gun raising slightly. I moved up to meet him a deep breath left me as a holsters moved onto both of my thighs. Placing the guns in them, I moved closer to the door, my burning eyes taking it in.

My fingers cracked as I stretched them, wriggling them slightly.

"Limited time. Aim to wound. Take point." As expected, James nodded at every word that came out of my mouth. A hard intensity burning through him.

I stopped, drawing in a deep breath as I pulled open the door quickly and James surged in. I followed quickly, enjoying the sound of rounds firing from his gun into his boss. I left the door opened a little as I strode in, my boots now thumping a little.

"Hello there." The man was holding a gun towards James as he sat on the floor, a singular wound in both of his thighs. The gun immediately moved to me as he stared at me in shock.

"You're-"

"Alive." I growled out as I kept walking towards him, ignoring the gun. "Surely you were not so arrogant to think that you would be better than the Russian's to betray me and try to kill me."

"News crews are everywhere spreading your picture and calling you a terrorist for the bomb you planted."

"A suicide bomber I presume. From where?"

"Germany." Germany. Not a country I was sent to or ever had a free kill in. Always secretive. They are not in this alliance. I did not technically know it was true, but like I was with readings, I could sense it.

"Oh. I like that. Incriminate those who will not join you. Why not Sweden? Korea?" Any number of countries that prefer employing their own residents or staying away from conflict.

"We could've. Your face does not fit in specifically with any nationality. But-"

"Blaming your buyers makes them unhappy?" The pitch of my voice raised slightly as I knocked the gun out of his hand, soft little CRACKS resounding from his fingers.

He let out a gasp as he fell, grabbing for the gun with the only limb still holding him up.

Red energy flowed down from my wrist into my hand and I threw it towards his hand. The Kunai had only just finished forming when it dug himself into the centre of his hand. As his voice opened, my hand connected with his cheek in an echoing SLAP.

Any potential sound was cut off.

James watched the door steadily, at the ready. Solely focused on waiting for Dick or any other hostiles. "Orders. NOW."

The man whimpered, unable to move his hand off of the carpeted floor. I stepped towards him, red eyes glowing as I pushed all of my weight down onto the fingers of the trapped hand.

This time I let him howl.

He was awkwardly splayed, twisted. Blood seeping from 3 wounds. It did not take me long to estimate the time in which blood loss would start affecting him. "I do not have any time for your puny attempts to grab for your gun." I knelt down towards him, a dagger newly formed, in my hand. "Orders. NOW."

A military man would not have refused me.

He was not a soldier. He had stupidity, arrogance, and hope. He did not think a few steps ahead.

Pity.

The dagger dug itself in his chest, slipping past his ribs and embedding itself into his lung.

"The Russian sector has been reinstated." He gasped, understanding that I had hit something important and he did not have time.

"HOW?!" I growled, my voice heavy as I leaned my face close into his.

"A man and woman of power demanded it. They wanted to please them. Project Shoah had already been in effect for months. The deadline was raised with one crucial asset included in the massacre."

Me.

He continued, knowing it was not enough. "They wanted to keep you. You were our best but after you killed him she demanded it. You were no longer going to be integrated into the program."

Vasiliev.

I had not realised that I had said it aloud but he nodded. I had let the twins slip through my fingers. I had no idea that they had risen up so much to...

Program...

"What program?" His eyes darted outside where there was enough noise to be heard by us. Noise of... celebration. I moved towards the window with speed, abandoning him.

Down below there was a large assortment of cars. Evidently, the meeting was over and they were in a rush. My eyes unwillingly zeroed in on a figure.

"The breeding program. Breed those that will kill all psychics that we choose... Instantaneously."

Massacre their own.

The little figure's hood was ripped off, his small, young face easy to see from where I was. James abandoned his spot momentarily to come look.

"Oh my god. They're trading children."

"Psychic children." I spun around quickly as the cars drove off.

Hurry. You need to save him. He cannot end up like you.

Sister Valerie's voice echoed through my head quickly and I raced forward.

"Impossible. The psychic trait is only expressed in the presence of two X gene's carrying the trait." Blood had started seeping out of his mouth as he laughed. Suddenly aware that he was not going to be living any longer, but that the meeting was over.

"Absorbed... sister in womb. Extremely powerful." His hand found his gun as he coughed hard and he struggled to raise it to his own head.

A lone sound of a bullet resounded out as his skull opened up.

His gun was consumed by thick, wet blood. It soaked in, grabbing at the metal as it tried to drag it under into its dark depths.

James turned to me, eyes wide and mouth open.

I walked closer, silencer still gone as I put another bullet into his head, revelling in the sound as a hollow emptiness filled my chest.

The gun fired again, and again, and again until all that was left was a ruined mess sinking deep into the thick dark mass that it used to keep contained.

That wild thing, ate him, leaving its mark as a show of pride before it too, began to die.

... Breeding program.

*to be reviewed*