Hi! So...I guess my promise of not letting writing take over my life didn't last long! I couldn't help myself from writing more! The result: Chapter 5, earlier than planned, but oh well!
Unedited - Will be edited later (May contain spelling/grammatical mistakes)
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Lukas POV
I am starting to worry about them. They have been gone too long. They've never been gone this long. Why aren't they back yet?
And the question that plagues me the most: What has gone wrong?
The possibilities are endless. We've always taken it for granted that we are good at our job. Good enough to take them out without getting ourselves killed in the process. But what if we've underestimated her? Is she more powerful than we thought? Maybe that's why she was always one step ahead - I mean, there have been rumours that she can see the future, that she has visions. Maybe her 'talents' have developed further than we ever thought to be possible? If so, we stand little chance of catching her unawares. Maybe, right now, she is ready for the attack, waiting to ambush the team. Or, even worse, what if she has already initiated an attack on them? They could all be lying dead somewhere at this moment, and I would be on my own, facing the impossible task of hunting her down alone.
What if, this time, we've bitten off more than we can chew?
What if?
What if...?
I pace my room, my brain filled with flashing images of potential scenarios, unlikely but possible. I don't agree with what the team do. But that doesn't mean I want them dead. I'm one of them now. I need them. They have become my home now. It's not like I could ever return to my old life. They have to return. They have to. I can't let myself consider any other possibility. They will return. They will, and then life will go on just as it always has, and everything will be back to normal. They're fine, of course they are. They're highly trained assassins, and they have been planning this attack for much longer than any of the others. Everything will be just fine.
My brain tells me that they are okay. My gut isn't quite so convinced.
What if it's not all fine? What if they are in danger, and I am stuck here unable to help? What if they have a gun pressed up to their head, ready to fire a deadly bullet straight between their eyes? Or maybe that bullet is already lodged in their skull; their lifeless, glassy eyes wide open, endlessly staring out but never seeing anything; mouth formed into a slight 'O' in shock; their cold body limp, and slumped to the ground. I can almost hear the gunshots...
BANG!
I jump, startled out of my frantic thoughts. Wow, I know my imagination is vivid, but I never realised it was that vivid! The gunshots almost sounded real... I turn, and begin pacing once more, despite knowing that it doesn't help anything, other than giving me something to do.
BANG!
Except, this time, there is no doubt of the sound being a figment of my imagination. It came from downstairs. I freeze. Could it be...? Without stopping to consider any potential danger, I run along the corridor to the top of the stairs. I am aware of voices, loud and animated. Is it...? I lean over the wooden banister and there, just disappearing out of sight, is the team. I breathe a sigh of relief. They are back. I rush down the stairs, two at a time, stumbling over the last few in my haste to catch up with them. After the anxiety I recently experienced, I am eager to check that they are all okay.
"Hey!" I call after them, but there is no reply. I am not surprised. They are all shouting over each other, and probably haven't heard me. I can't hear actual words - they all blur into one huge wall of sound - but the general emotion I am sensing is one of triumph. They quickly disappear around the corner. I hurry after them. I have to know what's going on.
The team walk in rank order, as usual. Up at the front of the group is Adrian, the man in charge of running the Equos Venaticus, of managing and leading all of the missions and the one to have the final say on any decisions made. He is, clearly, a very important person, essential for the group's existence. He is the 'boss', if you like. Whatever he says, goes. Everyone else makes up a part of the council - that is, everyone is listened to, everyone's opinion is valid, all points of view are considered before action is taken. I am the only exception. Ever since my mistake, I have been excluded from the council. Not verbally, no one has told me I cannot be at the discussions, but the way they act around me makes it clear that I am not welcome. I don't have the liberty to voice my opinions, and if I ever do so, they are deliberately ignored.
Within the council, however, there are persons of more or less power. Those who have been a member of the team the longest are most respected, and their views are therefore considered to be of more value. Those who are more recent members have less experience and consequently hold less power. Me? I'm right at the bottom of the ladder. My opinion has the significance of a grain of sand.
I follow the team, hot on their heels, as they continue on their way. I'm not quite sure where they are headed, but they are walking fast, with purpose. I can't understand why. I make an effort to take in my surroundings, to guess their intended route. They hurry on, twisting and turning through long, winding corridors, passing an endless number of doors, all painted in the same bland white paint, faded and worn and slightly discoloured, a faint yellowish tinge to them. Generic doors, which I know to conceal generic rooms, all resembling my own room, previously used as cells to hold the asylum patients. So many doors. I shadow the team, as they turn down a narrow passage, this one void of those generic doors, vacant of anything except maybe a few stray cobwebs. I pause, wondering where the hell they could possibly be going. And why? As far as I know, this passageway only leads to one place. And that place has been kept empty for as long as I can remember.
The tower.
I break into a run, sprinting to catch up, finally drawing near enough to speak up.
"Hey! What's going on? What happened back there? And why did you take so long? Did something go wrong? Was someone hurt? Well?" I rush, stumbling over my words in my attempt to get the answers I need to hear. I manage to catch the attention of one person, a guy I recognise named Ryder. From his position, right at the back of the group, I can tell he is one of the more recent recruits. He looks young, maybe early twenties. Only a few years older than me. Overly tall, with cropped light brown hair, bulging muscles and a large gun slung over one shoulder, he cuts quite the intimidating figure. He glances at me, chuckles once, and then replies.
"Hey, hey, slow down! Everyone's fine! Well, almost everyone - I reckon she'll be pretty furious when she comes round, but that can't be helped!" He grins at me, and I am taken aback for a moment by his sudden friendliness. And then his words sink in.
"What do you mean, her?" I ask, confused. "You don't mean...you surely don't mean to say that you found her? Her, as in the girl we've been tracking for over a year? Not her?"
"Yes, of course, her. Who else, idiot? We've caught her, we've finally got her! After all this time! I have to say, though, she put up one hell of a fight. Nearly lost her several times in those woods. Thank God we had the dogs. By the end, it was almost too easy. Flat out, lying on the floor she was, when we found her. As soon as she tried to get up, BAM! We took her down! You should have seen us - it was awesome!" Ryder claps his hands together in glee, still grinning. I am disconcerted with the way he is acting, almost as though he...likes me? As though we are friends? The feeling is unfamiliar, and I don't trust it. I think I preferred them better when they hated me. A thought occurs to me.
"Hang on a minute. Are you saying she's here now? Like, right now? Alive!?"
Ryder stares at me, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Well of course, didn't you hear what I said? We got her. We win. Don't you hear what I'm saying? We WIN! She's up front now, with Adrian and a couple others."
"And she's not fighting back?" My voice rises a little in disbelief. That can't be right! Surely this guy is mistaken?
"I told you, she's unconscious! Shot her with a tranquiliser dart, we did. Right in the centre of her back. Bullseye!" He laughs at his own joke, then continues. "But she'll be waking up soon; that's why we're in such a hurry. Want to get her safely locked away before that happens, right?"
"Right," I mumble. "But...what happened to 'kill her on sight', and 'destroy the enemy' and all that?"
"Oh, that! Yeah, well, change of plan, I s'pose. I don't give the orders, I only follow them!" He shrugs, and laughs again. It irritates me, that he has so much to laugh about, particularly in a situation such as this. He laughs too much.
I fall silent. Ryder doesn't seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm, and we carry on walking down the passage, him chattering away, though by now I have zoned out. My mind is focused on the girl only a few metres ahead of me, hidden from view. I can't help but wonder if she suffered, if she was in a lot of pain. I shouldn't, but I can't help feeling sorry for her.
"She's waking up! Hurry!" Adrian's rough, deep voice surges over the wave of sound emanating from the rest of the excited team. Silence falls. Everyone draw to a halt. "I said, HURRY!" Just like that, everyone springs into action. Two men, (presumably) guarding the girl, sprint forward to the tower door, as Adrian unlocks it with the tarnished master key. The door is thrown open wide with the deafening screech of rusty hinges, and the men, carrying the girl, disappear inside. I draw closer to the door, as close as I can, eager to see what the girl looks like - eager to see the creature that has defeated us for so long. Inside the room, a few more-experienced members of the group surround the girl, on guard. Others stand further back, onlookers to this unexpected scene. The girl, curled up into the foetal position, stirs, and I hear a faint, pained whimper. Her thick black hair cascades around her, shielding her face. Her clothes are torn, and her exposed skin is lacerated with wounds, which slowly ooze blood, thick and black-red in colour. They look deep, and I instantly want to help her, but, fighting the urge, I remain where I am, in the doorway.
The girl twitches again, and I can see that her body is quivering slightly. Without warning, she convulses, once, twice and then she falls still. A second passes, feeling like an eternity as I watch on with my heart in my mouth. I don't know why, but I feel strangely protective of this girl.
Slowly, slowly, she raises her head, ever so slightly. At once, six guns are trained on her, warning her against any sudden movements, though clearly, if Adrian wanted her dead, she'd be long gone. No, he wants her alive. I just don't know why. Her eyes dart around the room, evidently trying to figure out what is happening to her. She raises her head a little more, and I'm struck by how striking her face is. Her skin is creamy and clear - a flawless complexion. Her delicate features are all in perfect proportion - a small, straight nose; full, plush lips; just the slightest hint of cheekbones. But it's her eyes that fascinate me the most. Piercing blue eyes, swirling like a whirlpool, flecked with white spray. Unique. I have never seen a pair of eyes like hers.
In that moment, surrounded by armed assassins, powerless and alone, she lifts her eyes to meet mine. She gasps softly, those breath-taking eyes widening, and she unsteadily points one trembling finger at me.
"You," She whispers.