"Drop your weight, stomp with your heel, and then whip your head back." I do what Colt says even though I've already learned it. When he grabs me from behind in a bear hug, I instantly grab his arms and drop my weight. Then I step out, smash my heel into his toes and whip my head back into his face. I add on a hard kick to the shin just for fun. His moment of surprise gives me enough time to wriggle out of his arms and face him in a fighting stance. He laughs and shakes his head.
"You're good, Emery. Much better than anyone else who's walked through those doors. For a beginner, that is." I drop the stance and wipe sweat from my brow.
"Thanks," I pant, somewhat thanking him for the compliment but mostly thanking Rain for the training.
"You ready to do sparring yet?" he asks, wiping some blood away from his nose with the back of his hand. He isn't dressed in Admiral apparel today. He's changed into an outfit that matches mine: black tank top, black cargos, training boots. You'd think we were in the army or something.
"I'm ready for whatever you wanna do," I tell him, not wanting to ask for a moment to catch my breath. We'd been to the Conditioning Room this morning for exercise. Cranky Colt was the one who drilled me. After that we'd done archery training and he became his normal self. It took a while to adjust the compound to me and get used to the feel of it, but it was basically the same as the recurve I used back home. There were more sights on it, too. After archery we'd done kicks and punches on the bags and then moved onto self-defence. I told him I didn't need training in it but he'd insisted. I think I just proved my point, though.
"Yeah?" he tests. "You sure?" I nod and get back into fighting stance; fists up, knees bent, legs apart. It amuses him.
"I like your spirit, Emery." Colt mimics my stance. His buzzed hair has a shiny sheen of sweat on it but he's not as worn out as me. That'll give him an advantage. He's also stronger, another advantage. Taller... I can use his height to my advantage. I should be able to duck and dodge faster, but I won't let that comfort me. I don't know how fast he is.
"Any rules?" I ask before I get carried away and sent to the Sovereign General. He's the last person I wanna see again.
"Don't kill me, but don't hold back," he answers. I like that a lot more than Stroud's version. I can't help the excited smile that creeps onto my face. I quickly wipe it away, though. Remember: If I'm not holding back, neither will he.
We assess each other for a while before he makes the first move, feigning a punch with his right and then moving in with his left. I'm fast enough to dodge but he isn't stopping. He's close enough to kick and uses it to his advantage. He sweeps my feet out from under me and I collapse onto my rear end. He lets up to give me time to stand. I wish he doesn't. I don't want him to take it easy.
"Always be prepared for any kind of attack," he teaches, slightly out of breath. "You never know what your opponent might have up their sleeve."
"You're not wearing sleeves," I joke. My hands come up to defend me while my foot strikes his groin. He makes a little grunt but isn't fazed enough to be hit by my next attack. He redirects my fist with his forearm and I block his incoming punch with mine. I twist to try and dodge his next kick, but he manages to hit my hip. It hurts, but I ignore it, turning the hand he redirected back around his arm to move him to my other side and gain distance between us. He's panting heavier now and so am I. A sweat bead rolls down my face. My heart is working steadily just like my lungs. I can feel the place he kicked will bruise well. But that doesn't matter. Keep focused.
"You done?" he asks.
"Nope." I shake my head, not letting my position down.
"Alright," he accepts. This time I make the first move. I swing my right fist at his jaw, forcing my body into it. He dodges easily, even when I follow through with my left and then repeat it. I don't give up, letting a flurry of kicks and punches fly at him. None of them hit, but he is backing up into the corner. If I keep it up he won't have much to work with soon. I keep releasing my fury in kicks and punches. It's when I try to sweep kick that he gains the upper hand. I sweep too slowly and he gets a kick to the back in, followed by a punch to my jaw. I grunt with the pain but push it to the side. Focus on protecting yourself.
It's a good thing I got my act together so quickly. Colt becomes even more relentless than I was, delivering his punches with lightning speed; joining attacks together for two or more moves at a time.
I realize how basic Rain's training was. Within seconds, he's punched me a few times, kicked me once and backed me up to the opposite corner of the room. I do the only thing I can and drop down intentionally. When he follows to straddle me and pin me down, I push my feet into his stomach and throw him into the wall. Run, run, I order myself. My body complies and I dash for the middle of the room. I can hear him coming after me fast. My foot swings around, aiming for his jaw. He catches it and throws it away in an attempt to throw me off balance. To counteract and keep on my feet I swing my other foot at his head. He just repeats what he did before and I fall to the ground, too exhausted to roll away quick enough.
Colt straddles me at the hips and unsheathes an imitation knife made of wood, slashing downward. I bump the knife hand away with one forearm but his opposite fist follows right after. I knock it away, too. I'm not expecting it when he brings his head down quickly. I gasp in surprise.
There's nothing I can do to stop him. My head will take the full impact.
These are the thoughts I think, but he stops the instant his forehead touches mine. For a second my heart freezes. Slowly, once realizing his still, panting figure above me, it begins sputtering into action again, returning to the heavy pace it held before. We lie still for a moment. He pants, I heave. Then I realize his sweat ridden forehead is still resting on mine and this position is incredibly awkward.
"You made your point. You can get off now," I say between gasps of breath.
"Sorry," he apologizes, pushing himself off of my hot and sticky body. I don't get up. My muscles ache and the places he's hit me hurt more now that I'm not trying to ignore the pain. When I squint at him through the bright lights, he's smiling and shaking his head, rubbing the area I managed to kick.
The only area I managed to hit, I realize disappointedly, shaking my head. We take a few more moments to catch our breath.
"That was good," he says after a while, coming over to lend me a hand. I take it and he hauls me off the now wet wooden floor.
"You have good composure," he praises. I nod my head, still a little out of breath. "And endurance, considering everything we did beforehand."
"Thanks," I say, walking over to a table with a bunch of white towels on it. I grab one and wipe my face off. "We're done here?"
"Yeah," he says. I take it as my signal to leave. I drag my feet to the door, but before I can close it Colt catches me.
"Hey, Emery."
"Yeah?" I peep my body back through the doorway to look at him. He talks while sauntering towards the towel table.
"Meet me in the Board Room in twenty."
"Where's that?" I ask. He smiles at my naivety.
"On your way to the elevator, first door on the right. You can't miss it. It says Board Room right on the door."
"Oh," I say quietly. I probably should have noticed it by now. "Yes, sir."
"I told you it's Haiden," he calls back before I shut the door completely. No it's not, I think back.
I find the Board Room on the way back to my room. I really don't know how I could have missed it before. It's literally one hallway away with metal double doors that have Board Room engraved across them. Missing them this whole time is worthy of a face palm.
After riding the elevator, I walk to the end of the hall and unlock my door. The first thing I do is flick the light switch, which turns the emergency light off. My bed looks inviting, but I move past it to the shower. It takes a lot of self-control not to cover the black rose on my left arm when I take my shirt off. It's on you now, Emery. You may as well get used to it.
It's easier thought than done. I try picturing it as one of those cool tattoos that people used to get. Not believable enough. Tattoos weren't indented—at least not to my knowledge. It bothers me the whole time I shower. I try not to look at it, but that clearly proves impossible. Part of my shower ends up just being an examination of the black rose.
If I didn't know what it meant, I'd probably like it. It isn't like a rose you would see on a bush. It doesn't look as happy. It looks more like a rose you'd see lying on a table. The petals face downward. If it had a steam, it would probably be on the top. It's an almost melancholy looking flower.
After showering I quickly dry off and take a glance at the time. Five minutes 'til I gotta meet Colt. Knowing that, I don't take too much time selecting what to wear. I grab the first pair of capris I see and a red tank top. Good enough. It actually turns out looking great once I look in the full length mirror of my closet. I slip on my white runners and head downstairs.
The Board Room doors have one circular window shared between them. You can't see in, though, because it's covered by a black curtain on the other side. Hoping I'm not disturbing anything, I shove one of the metal doors aside and waltz in.
It's hard to tell how big the room really is since the walls and floor seem to disappear into each other they're so close in colour. I can tell it's square with a large circular table in the center. Mounted into the wall is a large plasma screen. The dark wood table is surrounded by chairs that have individual screens in front of them. Overall, it's a dark room. If not for the light from the computer screen and the down lights, it'd be pitch black.
No one is in here at the moment. I'm a minute or two early so I pull out a chair and cross my legs up on the table. I wonder what he wants with me? That's when I realize I should be terrified right now. What if it's about last night? Did he hear what I said about leaving? What will he do to me? My mind goes into overdrive. Panic and adrenaline begin scattering my thoughts. No, think clearly, Em. Calm down. You can't get out of this if you don't calm down.
I shoot out of my chair and begin pacing. The door is looking like an incredibly wise choice right now. Just as I'm about to chicken out and run at the last minute, one of the giant metal doors opens and Colt enters the room. He's showered as well and back into his Official's uniform. When he lays sight of me he smiles pleasantly.
"Glad to know I can count on you to show up on time. Please, sit." He motions towards one of the chairs and I obediently lower myself into it. Colt doesn't do the same. Instead he walks around the table to the front of the room and picks up a tiny remote I didn't see before.
"What are we doing?" I ask. I think I successfully hid the nervousness growing ever stronger in my stomach.
"History lesson," he answers. The panic tightening my shoulders automatically subsides. I was expecting this to come any day now.
"Will I be tested on it?" I inquire. Colt laughs. I don't know why.
"No, Emery, you won't be tested on it. But I do expect you to pay attention. Our history ties in deeply with our morals and might clear up a few false rumors about Assassins."
"Alright," I say casually, beginning to put my feet up again from habit. Then I remember my public manners and cross them under the table instead, folding my arms on its surface.
"You should know that how well you stay true to our virtues during your Scene test will play a major factor in whether you pass or not," he informs. I nod, a little knot of doubt beginning to form in my gut. I can tell already I'm gonna have to do a lot of acting during my Scene.
"Now, to start," Colt presses a button on the remote and the lights turn off as the big screen in front of me changes from the Assassins' logo to a picture of a Sovereign General. I can't remember his name, but I remember seeing his face a few times in my History text, "Sovereign General Ramones created this Facility in 2900 with the purpose of upping the security of The Continent, which was then called North America, during the fourth World War. He wanted to make sure there was protection against both emigrants from the destroyed continent of Europe, as well as intruder spies from Asia." He clicks the button again and a picture of a crashed airplane pops up. You can see the limp arm of its pilot hanging out the window. My gut clenches.
"We served as hit men to wipe out terrorists. After Ramones's eventual success in the war and the complete annihilation of Asia, the Assassins turned into more of a type of governmental service. We now serve as a type of soldier, killing people known to be a threat to humankind's survival. This means serial killers, maniacs, underground organizations and gangs threatening to start rebellion. Even some Assignments that have gone rogue and ran out into the wilderness to try and make it on their own." Again the slide changes. My hands instinctively contract when I see Sovereign General Muniz's staunch figure.
"After Sovereign General Muniz took Ramones's place, our services spread out into more areas. We're now responsible for carrying out orders from the government for targets as well as surveying The Continent. We keep check on security cameras in town and keep a look out for any signs of rebellion. Our scouting team goes out a few times a week into the city to look for any signs of an up roar. They also survey the land around the compound to make sure no mines have been planted."
"Mines?" I repeat bewilderedly before I can stop myself. Colt smiles again.
"There haven't been any threats in a long time. But to be safe we make sure our ground is un-tampered with. The last mine tragedy was some fifty years ago. Three of our men died and five were severely injured."
"But why would the ground around the Facility be full of mines?" I ask.
"Because some people don't agree there should be an Assassin's Facility." Colt shrugs. "Some of them choose to show it with bombs." I release a breath and shake my head.
"But as I said," he repeats, "there hasn't been a bombing in a long time. And our scouts have the technology to make sure our grounds are mine free at all times."
"So, by 'our grounds' do you mean the area around the mountain or the mountain itself?" I inquire.
"Both," he answers. "Our area extends ten kilometers out from the edge of the mountain."
"What do you use it for?"
"Our teams use it as a type of training grounds. Some exercises you can't practice using our facilities inside," he explains. I scrunch my brow in confusion.
"Does that still make it fair for the trainees? Do they get enough training to pass their Scene?"
Colt nods.
"We wouldn't dare test anyone we didn't think was ready for hire. And you're not out in the field right away. You go through a week of more advanced training before getting assigned to your first mission. You needn't worry, Emery." He smiles at me again reassuringly. I feel like shaking my head, but refrain.
"Anyways," continues Colt, "as I was saying: The Scouting team watches the cameras and speakers and surveys for threats. Our Missions team are the ones who do the hunting. They follow the orders given by the government and kill whoever they say is hostile."
I freeze immediately. If I recall correctly, that's the team Nate is assigned to... and the one Colt wants me on.
No. No I can't!
All I can remember is the dream I had; the one where I had shot Corden. All of the fear, all of the shame and guilt, comes flooding back to me and I fight to keep my appearance neutral. I can't hear what Colt is saying. Partially because I'm blocking it out and partially because terror has made listening impossible. My instincts scream run to the door but my wiser mind orders stay in the chair and listen. I take a deep breath and force my ears to make sense of Colt's words again.
"... You have to really know your stuff to get onto that team." Dang it. Now I don't know what he was talking about. I can't admit I'd stopped listening and ask, so I just pretend like I heard it and nod.
"I guess I don't know enough?" I question, hoping it'll get me more information about his previous topic. Colt ponders for a minute then raises his eyebrows in a manner that says possibly.
"You know," he says, "in time, you might. I could picture you in Initiation in the future. But as I mentioned when you were crippled in the hospital, I really think you could shine on our Missions group. It really all depends on how things play out." He means how my test goes, I grasp. It gets me wondering what exactly the test will be like.
"Now," he carries on, "each team is numbered. Missions team is Team 1, Scouting is split into 2 and 3, and Initiation is 4. It's mostly just for efficiency. Scouting is split because of the amount of ground they need to cover. They have a lot of men."
"I see," I reply coolly. In reality I'm still fighting to keep calm. The rose on my arm has never felt like more of an imposter. More than anything I want to wash it away and never see it again. That brings a question to mind. One I'm not sure I actually want answered, but ask anyway.
"Why a rose?"
"Good question," Colt replies, clicking at the screen to reveal the Assassin's logo again. "The rose was meant to be symbolic. Notice it appears more wilted than alive. It was meant to strike fear into our enemy's hearts: a symbol of death. The rose is symbolic of the beauty of death when handed in justice." What a sickening way of thinking, I disagree mentally.
"I'd like to discuss our virtues now," he says, jumping straight to the point. "First of all, we believe in carrying out orders at all costs. We believe in never giving up, gritting our teeth till the very end. Second, we believe in our comradeship. We always have our partner's back, no matter what. And last, we believe solely in serving the people. We protect them at all costs. It was the job we were made to do, and a job we'll carry out till the very end, no matter how bleak or soon it comes. And let's admit, it's not looking very good for the human race right now. It only makes our job all the more important." My eyes stay trained on the fingers I'm fiddling with and Colt allows the silence to prolong, perhaps just giving me time to process the virtues.
"Also, Emery, I'd like to discuss a time for your Scene test." My WHAT?!
This time I can't stop my eyes from bulging out and the instant blood loss from my face. He can't be serious. He has to be kidding me. Oh please, oh please, oh please be kidding me.
"Um..." I cough and clear my throat, hating how weak and unprepared it makes me feel... and look. But my mouth has gone dry.
"I have confidence in you, Emery," he interjects, not giving me time to protest. "I've seen what you can do already and believe that, with a week more of training, you'll absolutely be ready to take it." Wait. Did I just hear what I thought I heard? I get... a week? That's it?! No! No this can't be happening! I have to focus on one thing at a time: Breathe. Just breathe right now. In and out... steadily. Don't hyperventilate. Don't freak out. The next thing I try to do is control my heart rate. It bumped up to about a thousand beats per minute once Colt announced his lunatic idea.
"Um... sir—"
"Emery, please... call me Haiden."
"Haiden..." The name sounds and feels odd, "I really don't think I can." He just keeps beaming his smile at me. Stop it! I wish I could scream at him.
"You can. I'll make sure of it." There's a note of resolution in his reassuring voice. I can tell he's determined to do whatever it takes.
Iwish I believed he could.