Lana Elwood
On the outside, I come from a place where my powers are used. Pledging my life and allegiance to an agency based in Italy, I travel the world in search for other people like me: people who are bestowed with supernatural abilities. My job is to neutralize them: take them down to the base where they will be taken into the agency, sent to Asylum, or executed. If we know of a being who is too wild to bring down here, it's my job to assassinate them on sight.
On the inside, I come from a place much darker. Unlike other super beings here, I was born into the agency named Supernatural Detaining. My father was the leader of SD and my mother was an Italian citizen, trained in the art of stealth. With their abilities passed down to me, I have become the greatest hand-to-hand combat fighter the agency has ever seen.
However, there was a lot expected of me. I didn't shy away from the expectations. Being my father's daughter, I never backed away from a challenge. Being my mother's daughter, I blew the challenges out of the water. In my 19 years of life, I've been assigned 325 missions. I've never failed a single one.
While I'm marveled by the agents as the ultimate lethal weapon, I know what I'm called around the world. For those who have seen me – civilians who were mere bystanders – they've told horror stories about me. They tell the tales of an invincible being sent by the devil and marked by swirling shadows, who reaps the souls of the supernatural. If anyone crosses her path, she'll send you to your doom with the swipe of her hand. They call me the Reaper, but they fear the monster behind the title.
I was always good at what I did. My father taught me to be goal-oriented while my mother taught me when to practice patience. On one of my missions, I had to stay overnight at Morocco, where I met Takumi Nightshade. He was tall, handsome, blah blah blah.
Father found out and claimed it would make me weak, if it hadn't already. Mother didn't agree, but she figured that the less connections I have with people as friends or more than that, the less likely I would be to pull a trigger when I needed to. My dad found Takumi, despite my efforts to keep him stowed away. He tortured him in front of my eyes before killing him.
I remember what he said after he did the deed. The worst kind of pain is losing the thing that eases your own.
I decided I'd use his own advice against him out of pure anger. While he and my mother were suiting up for a duo-mission, I snuck into their chambers with a silenced gun. I shot my mother in the head. Watched father mourn for her. Watched the tears stain his face. Watched how quickly the heart was so easily shattered. It fascinated me how someone could be toyed with so simply as long as the remote control was a heart.
Out of rage and full of vengeance, my father shot me with a rifle, emptying his magazine within seconds. But I possess immortality and his bullets did nothing but pierce his metal walls. When I saw that he would kill me, I wanted to strike him before he struck me. But I saw the opportunity for a bigger plan.
As long as I was around, I was a walking reminder of what my father didn't have as well as what he took away from me: love and happiness.
Two days ago, I arrived back "home" from a place in Canada. Some kid with invisibility got out of hand with robberies. I stepped in and forced them to base, where he was interrogated. He was decided to be of no use to society, and was therefore executed: a good deed for the world.
Now, I wait in my chambers, meditating on a thin mat. My body aligns itself and bonds with my ability, while my mind rehearses training drills. I learned how to fight through unorthodox methods: torture, electric shock, a dabbling in brainwashing, a forced killing or two of an innocent civilian. And even though I hated it all then, it's kept me alive now. I wouldn't take back any of what I did for anything.
The door opens and I feel a presence enter: the contract assigner. "Agent Elwood, we have a mission. See you at the briefing room in five."
Opening my eyes and uncrossing my legs, I smile. 325 missions have been perfectly accomplished. Mission number 326 will go the same way.
Getting up, I straighten my clothes and creep out of my chamber. My father waits outside the door for me. Icily, I nod at him and tie back my thick black hair. "Father."
"Bitch," he spits right back, blue eyes penetrating mine. Father always had a bit of a cold look to him: long, light brown hair, light blue eyes, the slightest tan. I look more like my mother, with my brown – almost black – eyes, my long and thick hair, the olive skin. "I hope you suffer a fate so tragic that even the devil will pity you."
"The devil can't hand me his pity when he's already given it to you, Father." Ignoring his snarl, I brush past him and navigate my way through a network of halls and rooms. I pass by other agents, who fail to restrain their awe with my presence. Here, I am the golden girl: infallible, perfect, and deadly.
Entering the briefing room, I'm greeted by Agent McNeal. "Lana, about time. How do you feel about heading to Maine?"
"You act like I have a choice," I blandly state. "What's in Maine?"
"The grandiose of all supernatural," McNeal explains. "Asylum. For the first time ever, there's been a breakout. Five detainees escaped. These," he slaps manila folders on the table, "are their files."
The most people I've had to bring in for a mission are three. But, they only had minor abilities. Let's see what these anarchists are all about.
I select the most physically appealing file: Ren Azarias Walker. Power: fire generation and bending. I nod. This could be a considerable threat if I don't have my guard up. Personality: short fused, judgmental, crass, complicated.
I raise an eyebrow at McNeal. "Complicated? What is he, the Facebook status of a thirteen-year-old?"
"Read his past, Elwood," he demands.
Past: grew up in Japan, his mother died in child labor, murdered his father and one of his brothers – the third sibling running off the grid.
Next up: Sarah Daphne Lewinski. Power: paining mirror. Personality: quiet, soft-spoken, tough, supportive. Past: normal until Asylum.
Bo-ring. This girl poses no threat to me. I just need to make sure that when I take her in, I engage in my power.
Leonardo Hernandez – no middle name. Power: mind reading. Personality: jokester, fun, outgoing, emotional. Past: raised in the rough part of town, but otherwise normal. I snort. Leo's weak. I won't have to worry about him.
Kya Serenity Carter. Power: water bending. Personality: calm, peace-maker, reserved, welcoming. What could make someone like this revolt against an entire establishment? Past: murdered parents. Well, that was unexpected.
Lastly, there's a file with a single name: Elektra. Power: lightning. Alias: Flash of Death. Origin: Russia. Personality: N/A. Past: gang relations.
I remember this girl. I brought her in. We battled on a winter night, snow past my ankles. She shot a bolt through me. When it didn't harm me, she didn't register shock. She's the only person to never be surprised at my ability, and that has always baffled me. I brought her in for questioning, but she was extremely resilient to our methods. Elektra will pose a big threat.
"Where are they headed?" I inquire, piling the files on top of one another.
"No idea," McNeal grudgingly admits. "You've got a flight leaving in one hour to Maine. From there, you'll have a car drive you to Asylum. Gather information and find the convicts. Try to bring them in, but if some of them are too aggressive – shoot on sight."
Smirking, I nod. "Yes, sir."