Born For The Trigger: Inheriting Shadows

~CHAPTER 1~

~Before the Assassin Came the Boy~

It was March 27th, the day Sam Bolton dreaded the most. On this day, four years ago, his parents died. Normal people would usually think of this day as one of commemoration for the dead by remembering all the good things about them. Not Sam. He wasn't normal, not even close. When his parents died, his uncle took him in and raised him as his own. Shortly after, he started to train at the X-Out Academy for Assassins where death wasn't something to mourn—it was something to master.

As a 17-year-old, Sam was one of the most lethally talented students the academy had seen. He could shoot a bullet at anything that moved towards him, blindfolded, seven consecutive times without missing; he was that good. His hearing was so fine tuned that he could hear the faintest shuffling of footsteps from a distance away. If there was one thing Sam knew how to do, it was kill. It doesn't sound ideal, but when you spend four years of your life at an assassin's academy, you learn that free will and thought is a virus and that doing what you're told is the best bet at survival.

Today was different. His hands weren't as steady as they usually were. He played with the hilt of the knife that he held in his hands, trying to find something to keep his mind occupied. He had been in the comfort of his room for most of the day. It was a familiar play to him. Dimly lit and with the bare essentials—bed, desk, wardrobe, weapons rack. He knew he had other places to be, other things to do, people to keep in line but his mind was focused on the past. There was no way he could go through training on a day like today when his mind kept dragging him back to things that had long since passed. The memories came like a wrecking ball, destroying the walls he had built up to shut himself off form his past. His mother's smile. His father's bad jokes. And then, the deafening silence that followed their deaths.

He exhaled sharply then flung the knife at the wooden target that hung on the opposite side of the room. The dull thud that followed was a welcome change from the torture that the silence seemed to bring with it. That was the difference between him and the knife. At least it didn't waver. It didn't hesitate. It didn't care what day it was.

He needed to clear his head and clearly staying in the solitude of his room wasn't doing anything to help him. He grabbed his jacket and stepped out his room. There wasn't much going on in the hallways. But that was because most people were either doing some form of training or out on a mission, unlike Sam whose scrambles head left him wondering the halls instead of doing what he was supposed to. X-Out Academy didn't sleep. I was constantly running, with the goal of creating more teen assassins. There was no shadow that didn't have something hiding in it; a potential threat just waiting to be discovered. You could never discount a look as innocent. It was a silent assessment of strengths and weaknesses. There was always someone watching you and planning something but today, Sam really didn't care for their looks. He was too consumed to give it a second thought.

Before Sam came, Matthew was the best; favoured by the SAGE himself. He was sharp, quick witted, ruthless, and worst of all, arrogant. It was like he lived off the praise that was given to him by the instructors and the fear he cultivated form the other students. But in just two weeks of Sam's training, he had ended Matthew's reign and knocked him off his pedestal. That was the birth of a great and deadly rivalry. One which only grew over time.

There was one person who could possibly snap him out of his daze. Out of this trance he had entered. He feared that if he stayed any longer, it would consume him to a point where he couldn't return from. It had already started to eat him up from the day he started training at X-Out Academy. Michael was the closest thing Sam had to a friend, and although he was taught that having emotional attachments was a liability, he found it almost comforting just to be in Miachael's presence. He didn't ask many questions because somehow, he seemed to already know the answers. He never pushed anything. He just existed. That was exactly what Sam needed right now; he needed something that was real. Something that wasn't just a distant memory.

Although Michael was Sam's 'friend', there was only so much he could tell him because at the academy they were taught one very important thing:

"Trust no one, be alert, and show no mercy to the guilty!"

This motto was what Sam lived by, every day, for the past four years since he started his new life at X-Out Academy. It was what kept him alive. Though he cannot say the same for all the people it's killed. As he turned a corner, he bumped into someone, and when he looked at who it was, he felt a slight wave of relief wash over him.

"Watch were you're going dude. What if I had been Mattew? You know he's been looking for you?" Michael spoke.

Sam paused for a bit then just continued walked, expecting Michael to fall in step, which he did.

"He's always looking for me." Sam scoffed once Michael had caught up.

"It's not the same this time." Michael responded back. Almost sounding frustrated.

Sam just looked at him, hinting at him to explain what he meant.

Michael seemed to be considering if whether he should even say what he wanted to, then decided that it was better if Sam knew. "I overheard him talking to some of the others. Seems like he's out to prove that you're not as untouchable as you seem."

A cold smirk pulled at Sam's lips. This is exactly what he needed. Some action. "He's welcome to try. Seems like he's already forgotten his place at this academy."

Micael just sighed, now regretting that he even brought it up. The two boys then continued they way down the halls until they got to the training yard.

Later that night, as he struggled to sleep, Sam just lay awake in his bed staring at the wooden target that still had the knife embedded in it. He wanted to get it and just throw it over and over again, but instead, he did something else. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back to four years ago.

He allowed the thoughts of his parents to consume him. Just for tonight. Tomorrow, he would go back to being an assassin. But tonight, just for a moment he allowed himself to be that vulnerable boy who was told it was okay to feel sad and hurt. It was okay to miss someone.

That night, he allowed himself to be human.