A bead of cold sweat begins to drip down my spine as I try to calm the slight tremor in my hands. My breathing is torn from my lungs with the hammering rush of adrenaline that spikes my veins. The ball of my index finger bounces gently on the trigger while my scope trails my prey. I cannot afford to fail this assignment - not for myself, and certainly not for those relying on me. My target tonight is of great importance and I know even the slightest of mistakes could cost me my life.
A dry breeze rolls over the dusty roads below me, raffling discarded beer bottles and scratched lottery tickets. The sun is setting, sending vibrant hues of color over the horizon. Everything I see is tinted yellow from my safety glasses and I am barely able to make out the conversation between my spotter and our third teammate from around my ear muffs. It's not of much importance to me; all I have to focus on is the target.
There is a problem, however. He isn't alone and I don't want to pay the price of killing more than targeted tonight unless it is necessary. A swarm of beefy bodyguards surround him and they roll in waves like a lazy seabed.
"Grim," My spotter waves a hand in my peripheral vision. I turn to look at him, letting my rifle relax against the sandbag I have placed for stability.
"How should we proceed?" I know he is including Mortum for a reason as I note his walkie-talkie is hissing quietly from some slight interference. I am the leader of our group, so it's not unusual for them to wait for my commands before jumping into action. However, I'm not very good with people - even with my best friends and comrades. I glance back through my scope and take note of the target's position change. Mortum is following him as best as she can in the crowded casino and Eagle looks at me with his binoculars hanging from his neck. Sighing heavily, I turn my attention back to Eagle and set in motion the plan I have forming in my mind.
"We all know I need to get Treloar alone," I begin, "But he isn't really helping with that, staying in such a crowded place. I guess I could go down there and use Dwyn or Malakai to take him out in close-quarters, but that puts me in a position to knock out his bodyguards."
I look at my Smith and Wesson and Glock as they sit patiently next to Jackal. I hardly ever use them, and for good reason too. While I am able to hold my own in a fight, no matter how many people I am fighting; I prefer to hide in the shadows and use Jackal to snuff out the assigned kills. It leaves less evidence that way and no witnesses on my account.
"It's way too crowded down here for a classic hit," Mortum's voice cracks over the radio. "We need to get Treloar somewhere secluded and away from possible complications."
I roll my eyes dramatically as I fidget with the settings on Jackal. She is just repeating what I already know. It is her way of helping and that I can understand, but I don't need advice from someone who's powers are to heal - not kill.
"What do you suggest we do, Mortum?" Eagle asks, glancing in the direction of the casino. With his own unique ability, he has no need for the binoculars. However, he insists on wearing them. I meet his gaze and take note of his flushed skin. He must be overheating. I reach down and toss him the water bottle I have been taking sips out of. Eagle fumbles for a moment and then splashes some of the water on his face before gulping it down.
"If it's okay," Mortum breathes, "I can lead him to a room facing you guys for a clean shot."
"You know as well as I do that you aren't fit to be bait, Mortum." I mutter, watching her blonde head bob in and out of the crowd. She is hard to miss with her almost-silver hair and wild pink streaks.
Everywhere she goes, people tend to stare. For our line of work, that isn't really a good quality to have. Some of us prefer the upfront route in assassinations while others like me prefer to slink quietly in the shadows. But Mortum has never actually killed anyone. She heals wounds and saves us from an untimely death over and over again. I just can't see her being a major factor in ending someone's life, even if it is an infamous drug lord.
"I can so do this," She whispers before cutting the connection. I groan loudly and lean back into Jackal. Eagle shifts uncomfortably while I take note of Mortum and Treloar's changing locations. I start to grit my teeth and feel a comforting pain come from my gums. Eagle clears his throat before speaking.
"You know that if anything happens to Mortum-"
"Yeah, I know." I cut him off, not wanting to think about the ramifications of endangering Mortum's life. It doesn't matter that I'm not personally responsible for her reckless behavior; I will receive the punishment - and it will be intense by all means.
Mortum is valued highly by our commanding officers because of her unique ability. Sure, there are other assassins with healing powers etched into their DNA. But there are no others with the strength of hers with almost no limitations. She is able to heal almost all bodily wounds unless it means immediate death. There is only one person I know of who can reverse death and she is not someone I am very fond of talking about.
I, on the other hand, have a knack for killing others. I never miss my target once I take aim and a small portion of that can be attributed to Eagle, my spotter. However, it's mostly due to the unnatural DNA I possess, similar in concept to Mortum's and the whole basis for the organization we work for.
"Grim," Eagle interrupts my thought process and I turn to look at him. He points his long index finger in the general direction of our teammate and my gaze quickly snaps back to my scope.
Mortum succeeded in seducing the forty-some year old man and is leading him towards a vacant hotel room with a large, unfortunately thick, window that is facing our direction. I begin to adjust for the interference of the heavy glass and the quickening of the breeze towards the higher levels.
"Game time," I whisper excitedly as I center the scope on Treloar just as he enters the room. Mortum glances in our general direction while positioning herself and the target where they need to be. All while she is doing this, she begins to strip to keep Treloar distracted. Even with her back facing us, I can tell she's wearing one of her over-the-top bras that look way too uncomfortable to me. It's black and lacey and I am sure Eagle noticed it too, but he gave it no reaction. Sometimes I'm not even sure if he is a guy, considering his lack of responses to Mortum's suffocating pheromones. Although we are all trained killers, there are still a few that try to lead normal young adult lives alongside our killing sprees. I can't think of one straight guy that doesn't immediately become infatuated with Mortum except for Eagle; and that always seemed rather strange to me. I couldn't judge. I get my thrills from killing criminals. It's not like I am normal in any way myself.
"It's time." Eagle whispers, his eyes closed. I know he is taking note of everything within a mile radius of us through his own power and I slip into sniper-mode.
"I am prepared for this," I mumble to myself as the notes for tonight's mission flash in my mind's eye, "Everything is accounted for." With my cheek flush against the cold metal of my rifle, I crawl forward by a few inches just enough so that Jackal's tip is in center with the edge of the window sill. I blink, time seeming to slow down as I calm my breathing and reset my heart rate.
"One Mississippi," I initiate the countdown as I close the ammunition and take aim. Treloar's broad chest is the best place for me to hit while considering the variables playing against me. I line up the shot dead center where his heart should be before counting again.
"Two Mississippi," Exhale. Mortum looks out the window once more towards us and nods her head very discreetly. My trigger finger presses harder, the moment almost upon us.
"Three Mississippi," I take a swift inhale before pulling the trigger. A ricocheting crack of the bullet snapping through the air explodes around us and I hear Eagle curse. Seconds seem to pass by at a snail's pace but just as a drip of sweat lands on my forearm; my bullet shatters through the glass and into Treloar's chest. Mortum covers her mouth as she tries not to scream, looking from the small, spider-webbed hole in the window and back to the limp criminal lying dead in his own pool of blood.
I lay back, starting to relax with the muscles in my shoulders lessening their tension; but suddenly the kill zone is contaminated by an ungodly amount of men in suits. They are the same steroid-crazed guards I had noticed down in the casino, yet I was so focused on killing my assignment that I had failed to detect their presence outside the room.
"God fucking damn it." I nearly scream, punching the floor beneath me. The ground vibrates and small cracks form around my fist just as I feel the lingering power behind the punch break my ring and pinky fingers. I bite my lip hard, drawing blood, while I get back into position to start a blood-bath.
"Grim," Eagle reaches out to grab my shoulder but I growl, letting him know this is not the time to stop me from doing what I have to. It's either them or Mortum, and I know which one I choose.
"One," I fire Jackal, watching a vapor trail rocket into the air and meet one of the guards in his over-sized head. Blood begins to rain down in the room, painting everything deep red.
"Two... Three..." I count off the bullets as more guards are welcomed to the afterlife by my hands. Mortum is still standing in the same spot, frozen. The guards try to get closer to her, but I won't let any of them gain another step forward.
"Four... Five... Six... Sorry about the dress, Mortum," I whisper, taking them out like clockwork. Before long, they are all dead - strewn into hazardous piles around Mortum. She looks like a goddess of death, drenched in the blood of her enemies. Her blonde hair appears crimson and her makeup is smeared in dark lines down her cheeks. She brushes her damp hair out of her face before turning towards us and turning on the walkie-talkie.
"Do you know how expensive that dress was?" She hisses, her hand placed on her hip. I let out a little smirk as I watch her through the scope. Eagle presses the response button and I yell, "It's not like you actually paid for it. We are thieves and killers, not saints."
"It was still a super cute dress." Mortum pouts before sighing heavily, "Eagle, call for the cleaning crew. I'm going to use the shower in here to get rid of this blood before it stains my hair." She drops the walkie-talkie onto the ground by the bathroom door before shutting it softly behind her. Eagle radios in to our superiors and begins to explain the situation while I take note of the growing crowd just outside the casino. They are all looking up at the blood-splattered, broken window and I am sure the authorities are being called. Shit, I think to myself, I don't even want to imagine the therapy session I'll receive for this mess.
Shoving the thought out of my head, I pack Jackal into her case with exceptional care and grace. After I know she's safe and sound in the modified guitar case I lug around, I strap Dwyn and Malakai to my thighs in the gun holsters. Eagle is waiting patiently by the exit with a grimace on his face.
"I'm sorry, Grim." He whispers, fidgeting with his jacket's zipper. I look up into his brown eyes and put on a fake grin.
"It's my fault, Eagle. I was careless, again." I choke, hating how the words taste like burning metal on my tongue. They are big, fat lies and both Eagle and I know it - but we do not speak out for fear of Retribution striking us down.
"I just wish I could be of more help..." He trails off, looking off into the distance. I take this moment to look at his pale face and note any changes from yesterday.
As of late, he has gotten rather thin. I think there's something he isn't telling me and the guilt is weighing heavily on him. He's not a deceptive person in the slightest and whatever it is that he has to keep secret from me must be eating at him.
I reach up and ruffle his black hair playfully to try and lighten the mood. He glances down at me with my crazy-eye smile and nervously tilts the corners of his lips up.
"Please, don't make Laszlo angry this time around." He pleads and I shove my shoulder into his arm softly.
"There isn't a thing in this world that doesn't piss off that sadistic maniac." I adjust the case's strap on my shoulder and we begin the flight of stairs down to the real world below us. I tune out the growing sense of dread building in my stomach while I follow Eagle back to base. Unfortunately, that sadistic maniac is in charge of my therapy session - and I am in for excruciating pain once again.
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My hands are numb and my body is shaking violently from the pain that overloads my senses when Laszlo is finally content with my therapy lesson.
"I'm only doing what I'm told," He sneers, his palm coming to rest on the small of my back before letting loose one more round of terrorizing agony through my body. I can feel the volts go up my spine a bit, but never reaching past my shoulders. The electricity continues to wrap around my back and into my muscles while I try not to scream out from the suffering. I knew this was coming the moment I killed one more person than assigned but that never makes it any easier to bare the pain. My heart begins to race uncontrollably and I am squealing for air as my throat clenches up in response. My vision begins to fade, shadows lurking in the corners. Laszlo laughs and removes his hand, the electricity stopping without his touch to conduct it.
"I have to go give my report to the commander now. Be a good girl and heal quickly so we can have fun like this again, alright?" His face appears inches from mine, his brown eyes dancing in glee. There's a twisted smile on his face and I hold back the urge to bite his head off. Defeated, my head hangs low as he leaves and I'm left traumatized once more.
It doesn't come as a surprise to know that therapy sessions come easily for me. Even if my intentions are what's best for Retribution, I am still punished for any mishaps that happen during our missions. They never touch Mortum because she is very important to our cause and Eagle is never the one responsible because he's never the one doing the actual killing.
I slump against the steel walls inside the therapy room while I wait for an Enforcer to take me back to the common room where I can nurse my wounds. Reaching down to touch the small of my back, I feel the past scars from these sessions. They're long and raise over my skin. Some are darker than others, looking like flashy streaks of lightning. Touching them only worsens the pain I'm in.
My mind is in a tunnel with only a fading gray light dimly lighting the way. I swim in my own thoughts while my body is convulsing from the remaining torturous bolts inside me. There isn't anything I can do to calm down my nerves and muscles so I just sit back and settle down for the ride.
"Subject 113, it's time to leave." A rough male voice comes from the intercom system in the room. I look up blindly and flash them a grin.
"It appears Laszlo went a little overboard with the therapy session today. I will need help getting up." My speech is slurred and my head thunks against the wall once more. I let out a groan as I try to move my limbs but my body is hardly responding. There is no response from the man who spoke and I can only assume he is asking what he should do with me. I just want to be in bed where I can sleep off this enormous pain.
It's cold in here, like the chilling frost of an upcoming winter, and I wrap my arms loosely around my torso to try and control some of the shivering. My lip is throbbing in pain from when I bit into it as hard as I could during the mission and the fingers I broke stopped registering the pain once my therapy session began. I look down at them, noticing the blueish green undertones surrounded by streaks of red. Brushing it off, I sit patiently for my escort.
The door slides open and in comes Mortum, her hair still slightly damp from her shower in the hotel room. She doesn't say a word as she kneels down next to me and starts to assess the damage.
"I knew it had to be bad if they're calling me in here to help," She murmurs to herself, "But Laszlo didn't hold back this time, did he?"
I strain to focus my eyes on her as I watch a nurturing glow radiate from her body. A moment later, I can feel all the pain beginning to subside and my injuries begin to heal at a surprising rate. Her blue eyes stay glued to my scars and twitching muscles and I give her a lopsided grin.
"He never holds back when it's me." I look up at the ceiling, taking note of the security camera keenly watching Mortum and I in the steel room.
"He's such a pompous ass." Mortum spits before rocking back onto her heels to give me a once-over.
After a moment of silence, she gets up and offers me a hand. I take it and we both struggle our way to the common room where I can eat my next meal and gain back some energy.
"Eagle is going to be pissed when he sees you," Mortum whispers, being careful not to press into any of my sore muscles as she helps me walk.
"Let him be pissed," I cough, "I would rather it be me than either of you two."
"I know that's how you feel," Mortum sighs, "But you really can't be the only one taking the therapy sessions all by yourself."
"I won't give Laszlo the satisfaction of hurting you guys. Besides, I'm his favorite toy." I scoff just as we enter the common room. It's filled with other assassin teams as they take a moment to relax. All eyes turn towards us, no doubt everyone has heard about our mission and the repercussions.
"Grimorra!" A friendly voice shouts in concern. I direct my attention to the back of the room where a fellow assassin is sitting next to Eagle and his friend Kezelo. It's Marrow, one of the few kind-hearted killers in this business. Eagle jumps when he sees me and rushes to help Mortum carry me to the back where Marrow and Kezelo are preparing a seat.
"Laszlo went overboard again." It isn't a question and I can feel the anger radiating off of Eagle like the heat waves of a summer day. Normally, my introverted teammate doesn't have much in the emotion department but if one thing is going to get him riled up, it's that sadistic bastard.
"Don't sweat it. I'll be ready for the next mission in no-time." I shrug off their concerns and turn my attention to Marrow and Kezelo.
"How did your missions go tonight?" I ask, carefully sitting down in between Marrow and Mortum.
"As planned." They respond in monotone. There is a rule that we cannot discuss our targets with other assassins, but I couldn't care less about the rules.
"Ours gave us a rough time tonight." I grumble, picking up the tablet on the table in front of us to order my dinner from the cafeteria staff. Tonight is the speciality meatloaf that I'm not quite sure is actually meat. I put in my usual, three cheeseburgers with a side of French fries and a bottled water, before giving Marrow and Kezelo a breakdown of what happened just hours before.
"Truth be told, I was itching to get that guy in his grave ever since he became a target of ours." I scratch behind my ear, matting up my unwashed blonde hair. "So I was excited for tonight's mission."
"You're one fucked up girl, you know that?" Kezelo pipes in, giving me a grin. I smile brightly back and continue.
"Yeah, tell me something I haven't heard before. Anyway," I lean back to get comfortable while recalling the gruesome details of the kill.
"But he was a sneaky little rat that was never alone, not even for a moment, before Mortum decided to play Seductress and stepped in for us." Mortum flips her hair over her shoulder and blushes.
"God, the rush I get after putting a bullet in someone is way better than any drug you could give me." I coo, closing my eyes. Eagle gets up from our group the moment a bell chimes and comes back with my dinner.
"Thanks, Eagle." I grab the tray from him and begin devouring the tasteless sandwiches and stale fries.
"So, once Mortum had him in a room, I was like 'Okay, cool, now I can snuff him out without anyone seeing. Right? Ha! I failed to notice that his bodyguards were right outside the room; fucking stalkers. I had stopped paying attention to them when our target went up with Mortum and they appeared to be waiting in the lobby for him to finish.
"After I hit our target and killed him, the noise from my bullet slicing through the glass must have triggered an alarm for them and they came swirling in like porky pigs looking for truffles."
"Why didn't you just use a tranquilizer to knock them out?" Marrow asks, her white hair covering one green eye. I shove the first burger down my throat and begin eating the second.
"There was no time for me to switch ammo and they were heading straight for Mortum. I had to make a choice of who was going to come out of there alive, and of course I chose Mortum."
Marrow and Kezelo nod in agreement and I hurry to finish my dinner so I can retire for the night. Eagle continues to flare up in anger but I know he won't do anything stupid. Mortum offers her hand to me when I'm finished and we leave Eagle and the others to go to our beds.
The last bit of conversation I hear is something about Eagle's cheeks turning pink as I walk away.
"Marrow and Kezelo are teasing him again," I comment. Mortum gives me a look that I have no idea what it means and we descend the stairs to the dormitory below. Mortum pushes open the steel doors with her right shoulder and we are hit by a feminine fragrance the moment we step into the large room.
"Someone went crazy with some perfume." I plug my nose and roll my eyes. There are several other assassins in here, all girls, getting ready to sleep off the strain of their missions for today. Mortum breathes shallowly as we stride over to our bunk, beginning to change into pajamas. A few eyes turn to look at me and I know my intense therapy session earlier must be the most recent gossip to have been spilled among them. I give them the cold shoulder while I unstrap my holsters and place them next to Jackal, Dwyn, and Malaki in my locker.
"Grimorra?" A voice cracks through the hushed silence. I look behind me and see a new recruit eying me up and down.
"That's me. What do you want, kid?" She couldn't have been more than 13, which is the age we all start killing. There are many younger trainees in a different facility further away from the strip, but we all end up in a base once our teams and missions are assigned.
"I was told by the other girls that you're the number one assassin here. Is that true?" Her brown eyes shift to some of my acquaintances behind her. There's Kezelo's girlfriend Lorelai sitting next to Marrow's teammate Madame. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and chew out the two for talking about me to a newbie before turning to face the young girl.
"What's your name?" I ask before correcting myself, "The one you chose, not your subject number. I couldn't care less about your subject number."
"Aisley." She responded nervously, "I was transferred here tonight. It's my thirteenth birthday today."
"Welcome to Hell, Aisley." I rest my hand on her shoulder. "I don't know about the whole ranking thing the commanders do, but I'm not someone you want to mess with." I give a stern look to Lorelai and Madame who give me shifty smiles in return.
"Also, a piece of advice - Don't believe everything you hear. Especially from those two." After I pat her shoulder softly, I push her towards her friends.
"Best get some rest. You're in for one hell of a shock come tomorrow."
The small girl gives me an odd look before rushing back to her bunk below Lorelai. I strip out of my sweaty clothing and grab my pajamas before heading to the communal showers and starting the water for it to warm up. Mortum doesn't join me since she has already rinsed off the blood and brain matter that showered her in the hotel room, so I'm left by myself with only two other girls in here. I don't pay them any attention as I let the water rush over my skin, stinging my newly formed lashes on my back and sides.
Even in luke-warm water, I can barely handle the pain. I know Laszlo gave me quite the beating and phantom electricity waves still roll through my body. Those scars are one of the reminders of who I am - an assassin for Retribution.
It's all I've ever known. My only purpose in life is to fulfill their wishes and desires, as it has always been that way. I don't know where I came from or even how Retribution came about, but I do know that I am a trained killer and have the blood of many on my hands.
It's never innocent people, though. That's how it's justified. Retribution, or mainly the president of the organization Heinrich Croix, wants to bring about a new world order. I know, sounds pretty stereotypical to just about any thriller you'd find in today's media. Retribution is different. We are real and we kill criminals and important, corrupted figureheads to cleanse this world of the disgust and evil that has plagued it for so long.
I love my job here, even with the therapy sessions I get on a regular basis. To be a part of something so important, or to be the change this world needs; well, it's intoxicating. The power to hold others' lives in your hands and the power to wipe their existence from history is thrilling and addicting, even more so than any drug that I could get.
Retribution's goal is a simple one in the grand scheme of things. We want purity. Purity in every single aspect of human life. To once again bring about a world order that God can be proud of.
I can't really say how extreme this goal is to achieve, but I do know my own role in it. We all possess unnatural DNA from creatures long before mankind ever arrived. Retribution takes the dormant DNA in us and fires it back up, giving us powers that have long been forgotten by humans. Mortum can heal almost any wound; Eagle has telescopic vision; and me? I manipulate weapons. Yes, that means any weapon but I have grown rather attached to my Barrett M82 and the two other guns I possess for closer combat. I also possess incredible fighting power, but I have very little control over it and I often hurt myself rather greatly when I use it.
I am Subject 113, codename Grimorra. I don't know my birth name or who my biological parents are. To be honest, I'm not even sure I have biological parents. How Retribution obtains children is shrouded in mystery. For all I know, I could have been made in a lab.
My goal is to make Retribution's dream a reality. The stakes are high, and I could very well lose my life at any given moment. But that's where the fun comes from, right?
I look down at my subject number tattooed below my right elbow crease. It's pitch-black and stark in comparison with my pale skin. I know if I were to look at my back, I would see the scars from therapy sessions and the slight bumps in skin where my Discipline is implanted. If that is triggered, my spinal cord is severed and I die that instant. A constant death threat over my head makes things immensely more exciting if not nerve-wrecking.
I notice my skin is flushed from the shower and I turn the water off, shaking the droplets from my hair. I don't bother to brush it and just throw the dirty-blonde strands into a damp ponytail before stepping into my pajamas.
It has been a long day, and all I want to do is sleep it off. Before climbing into my bunk, I look over the news reports for that day laid out over a desk nearby. All of the daily missions went by without a hitch, except for my own, and everything seemed to be in place.
"Good," I whisper, "Maybe the next mission will be an easy one." I lay down and pull my blanket over me, listening to the soft snores and whispers of others around me. My back has not forgotten the amount of pain, but I'm so exhausted I fall asleep with no trouble.