WANTED

Zuhause (home)

WANTED 3

I threw my keys in the bowl on the counter and dragged myself into my bedroom. The twelve hour train ride home was gruelling.

I wished I had flown, but didnt want to risk getting tagged by one of Barsotti men. Now I knew, I was tailed the moment I stepped off the plane in Italy.

Before I left Naples, I took precautionary steps to scrub everything. I had to make sure I was bug-free. I did a sweep to rid any tracking or listening device in the temporary Italian apartment and anything I was leaving with.

This job taught me, that I became to complacement and relax in my assignments. I needed to be more viligant when I  take my next job.

My body was still a little sore from all the bouncing I did on the streets of Naples.  I popped some aspirin in hopes that it would also dull the slight pounding in my head.

I fell face forward onto my bed thankful for the soft fluffy comforter and plush mattress.

I succumb to the sandman and bask in the joys of sleepdom. When I work, sleep was an elusive indulgence that I couldn't partake in on a regular basis. However, when I was back into the my inner sanctum between jobs, sleep was an indulgence I feed on like a greedy bitch.

An incessant humming jerked me from my dream world. Groaning and rolling over, I reached over for my phone.

"What!" I grumbled at the interruption.

"45 minutes." The call ended and I check the time. Damn, he only gave me 8 hours.

I only had time to brush my teeth and pull on my usual, jeans and a tank top, and lace up my shoes, plopped a hat on my head, pulled on a jacket and locked my place up. I jumped on the U-Ban, subway, leaving my artsy neighborhood in the Schwabing and headed to the Alstadt district, the city center of  Munich. 

I joined the throngs of people until I reached one of the similar historic buildings that connected to others. It had ten floors and contained various businesses.

I pushed open the door of  Rhinebeck Holdings greeted by Sasha, the receptionist. 

"Hello Ms. Carter, he is waiting for you in the conference room."

"Thanks Sasha. "

The conference room was down the hall on the right. It was encased in glass walls with the ability to darken to give privacy.

The glass walls were a smoky black which didn’t bode well. He wanted privacy, it meant something serious was going down. I entered the room and was surprised to only see Karl Zeigler sitting at the end of the table. Usually Karl had a team of people who would be in here discussing the next assignment.

Karl Zeigler is the founder and owner of Rhinebeck Holdings. On paper it is a business consulting firm. Off paper it was a mercenary house that specializes in impossible missions.

We were a hodgepodge of thieves, assassins, computer hackers, explosive experts, and washed out military fanatics with an insatiable greed for money. Personally I can't stand some of these arrogant pricks that work here. I'm not in it for money or adrenaline. It's a job.

I am doing society a favor getting rid of the world's asshole and evil human beings. I don't deal with upright citizens of the world. I deal with people in the underbelly, the underworld. And if you want to work in the underbelly then be ready for the consequences.  This underworld can give you money and power, but it also can give you misery and death. Some enter this world by choice, while others are forced into it.

I was forced into this world but chose to stay in it. Karl found me on the streets of Brooklyn, New York when I was 10.

I had been another child of the system and ran away from the 7th foster home when things got bad. It had been six months on the streets when I literally stumbled over Karl's body in the alley one night. He had been shot and I helped hide him from the people who were chasing him. Til this day I couldn't tell you why I helped him. Maybe I was lonely, scared, took pity on him, or just wanted to help someone. Whatever it was, it changed my life. Karl took me from the States and brought me to Germany.

At first he did not tell me what he did for a living, nor did I ask why he got shot. I learned early in life not to ask questions that were not my business. He raised me with a firm hand, made me go to school, and gave me chores around the house. At first it was a challenge being in a different country, learning a new language and culture.

I struggled a little with my identity being the only black person at the school. Hell, I was the only black person in the small German town. After an adjustment period, I fell in love with languages and desired to learn about other cultures. Karl encouraged this by taking me with him on business trips over the next 3 years. We traveled to Spain, France, Brazil, Italy, Greece, Russia and many other places.

It was on one of these trips when I was 13 in Morocco that things went bad. Karl's assignment went sideways and he went missing for two days. I freaked but remember our emergency plan, if he doesn't come back to the hotel. I had packed and ready to flee when the men came, I tried to fight back but was no match. I was dragged to the place they were holding Karl.

That is when I found out the ugly truth.  Karl Zeigler, the man I worshipped, was an assassin, a killer. The man who taught me how to cook, play the piano, tuck me into bed the first year I lived with him was a cold hearted killer. The things that I saw in that filthy warehouse I have blocked out of my mind. If it wasn't for an old friend of his that I called before I was taken, we both would be dead.

My life was altered, I wasn't the bubbly, happy-go-lucky child anymore.  I didn't feel safe and secure. I didn't leave the house for months and demanded that Zeigler train me. From that moment on, he was no longer Karl, the man I viewed as a dad. He was Zeigler, my teacher who will make sure I will never be vulnerable again. And teach me he did.

I learned how to handle all types of weapons from guns to knives. I learned several different styles of fighting from jujutsu to aikido. I learned survival tips, from picking locks, escape art, and military field trauma care. By age 18, I was a living, breathing, lethal weapon disguised in the body of a young girl.

I no longer trust anybody, with one exception. People lie and steal to get what they want from you, with the exception of Viktor Betchuk.

Zeigler brought Viktor home when I was 14. It was a year after my capture and I was still closed off. However, when Zeigler brought Viktor home barely alive, something triggered in me. In front of me was a boy a year older than me, that went through something much worse than I did. I made it my mission to help him recover.

He was from Russia and like me was black, well not really. But he looked black to me. His father was from Russia and his mother was from India.

Viktor was an orphan like me too and we just clicked. After he healed from his injuries, he trained alongside me. He was my light during those dark times. We became like brother and sister and even told people that we were. He taught me Russian and I taught him German and English.

It was a sad day when he decided to go back to Russia.  I begged and pleaded for him to stay. He loved me but not enough to stay. He was hell bent to exact his revenge on those who tortured him. He left when I was twenty.

I had to decide what I wanted out of my life. Zeigler tried to encouraged me to stay in college, but I couldn't.  I was restless and had a lot of pent up anger and energy to release. I decided to go home like Viktor and try and find myself.

I found myself patrolling the streets of Brooklyn. Beating up and nearly killing pickpocketers and would-be rapist. I even got involved in a sex trafficking ring that had girls as young as seven. That was a messy affair and I took pleasure in killing those sickos and freeing the girls.

However it garnered the attention of Zeigler, who dragged my ass back to Germany.  He lectured me on my sloppiness and careless ways, but I just shrugged him off. Fuck him, at least I was helping people. That is when he resigned himself to the inevitable. I was staying in the underworld by choice. That day I got my first assignment.

Now three years later, I plopped onto one of the plush conference chairs and place my feet on the table. "This better be good."

A/N
Okay now we know some of Phoenix back story. Tell me what you think. Like her? Love her? Jury is still out?

Nicci♡