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Fans self. Thank you from the bottom of my Cold Blooded heart.
Sorry for the late update.
I had soccer games, accelerated math classes and a baseball party to attend. My apologizes.
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*NOT EDITED!! I’m SO SORRY!*
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I didn’t know the meaning of life anymore.
At first I thought it was simply books, cozy blankets, scoring a successful education and perhaps stumbling upon the love of your life.
I didn’t expect bullets, illegal drugs, dangerous gangs and ground shaking lies to define my life.
But it did.
If I knew reality was crashing towards me with a wave that could sweep my body up, snapping the bones I laboriously mended together countless times, leaving a crippled girl laying broken on the cold surface. If I knew, I was going to dive into those deep waters rather than allow myself to sink.
Shattered, my brain was. I was a survivor. Allowing my emotions to conquer me once again was no option for a survivor.
I was going to dive.
Every ounce of anger that washed up, I thrust it towards the sandbag my knuckles punched.
Every degree of frustration that crawled up, I shoved it up against my muscles that pushed the bar higher.
Every inch of betrayal that dared to sneak up, I fed it to my pleading legs that ran twenty miles a day.
The pounding confusion, and sadness that taunted to destroy my soul was moulded into the strength I put into each bullet I penetrated through the target, each blade that cut through the target, each kick, punch, swing, jump, I placed myself in.
I was not concealing like a coward. I was embracing like a warrior.
A warrior that was somehow going to end this growing army of Snipers.
I didn’t notify Romane my loose plan, assuming he either knew or it wasn’t the time to tell.
The focus was towards strengthening me for the event that was bigger than all of us.
Time became nothing. Keeping track was not the priority. When the time came, whenever they decided to make a move,
to destroy me,
I would be ready.
My black ponytail whipped around as I spun my foot across the dummy’s face. The spilling sand hitting the floor eased my clenched fists and I caught a breather to seize the view of thirty sprawled dummies.
My toes wiggled in the mountains of sand towards my water bottle. Popping the lid open, the squirt of liquid renewed my exhausting muscles.
I avoided the use of my drug. It was an emotion I could not embrace. Its powers were growing stronger, and at times, I had to stop practicing whenever it tried to control my soul. The voices were less frequent after I ignored the curse.
“Wildcat.”
I placed the bottle back on the weapon table and met the Eagle’s Eye.
He roamed barefoot across the miniature desert, dressed in a Japanese white robe. Blond hair was cut unlike the stubble on his defined chin. What erected my thick brow was his sly smile.
“My mark looks good on you,” he quipped.
Puzzled for a split second, his gesture towards my spin sent my cheeks roasting pink. Back exposed with the white spaghetti strap tank, the scar of the sideways W hadn’t faded:
3
“I will not take your scar as a compliment,” I said. Throughout the practices, I trained myself to keep expressionless. Emotions were my vulnerability. I needed to master the art of staying impassive.
Although his smile faltered a bit, it still toyed across his lips. “Understand that you were going to be whipped by Levi at the end. I would rather have marks of an Eagle scar you rather than scars of weakness. To remind you who you should really trust.”
“That doesn’t mean you should just mark me! Haven’t we gone over the fact I’m not a fucking werewolf. The only inner wolf around here is the inner monster I’ve been so calmly relaxing.”
He was about to speak until I raised my hand. “No matter. You have an uncover Eagle working in Snipers. You could have stopped the whipping.”
He moved across the barrier between us, stepping on top of the sand mountain. “You need to understand the darkness Levi hid from you. How manipulative their family can be.”
Time was nothing. That was in the past. It was nothing but memories now.
“Who is the Eagle in Snipers,” I persisted. “Who is betraying the Snipers? Who is the mole?”
The smile rose to its original slyness. “Why should you deserve to know?”
“Because you said you’d give me answers if I joined the Eagles. How do you expect me to trust you if can’t keep a promise?”
The tables flipped and his brow sharpened. “I said I’d give you answers. But that doesn’t mean I’ll hand them over on a silver platter. You must work for them.”
Hot aggression snapped in my chest. “I have been working.”
“I know you have,” he spoke coolly.
I shifted a lid over the steam, my eyes shrinking back. “I deserve to know. You need to understand secrets can never be kept from me. I will know everything. Whether they come from you, other sources, or I piece it myself, I will understand this mess. I don’t believe secrets will ever be hidden.”
Secrets unleash the emotions. They trigger the monster.
“You must work harder,” he iced.
My hand itched for the blade tingling by my finger tips. “I am working harder!”
“I know you are,” he said. “I know you’re working harder than you ever have. But you will never work your hardest until you use the monster inside of you. You cannot hide them forever.”
“I did learn goodness in Snipers. That you must have control in order to succeed. I have no control when the monster, the drug, is released. I am nothing but a untamed child with the monster alive.”
“And you aren’t being one now?” he said.
The lid trembled as did my fingers. Hundreds of nerves were shaking, sensing the monster battling its way out.
Romane stepped off the mountain and was a metre away. “Yes, you are working harder, faster, smarter. But you are no less of a child if you cannot conquer your fears. You need to be aggressive, a go-getter, work for what you deserve. Work like a hustler.”
I didn’t notice the knife twirling on my fingers. I stopped the blade and held it strongly by the handle. “And how do you suggest I conquer this monster? These sand dummies, stimulations and clumsy Eagles are no match for it. I’d rather no one get hurt by my doing.”
My gaze followed his motioning hand, landing on the outside patio of the aircraft. It was nearly dawn, skies swirling colours of innocent pink, orange and specks of yellow. The ball of flames was slowly sliding under the Earth, giving off its last energy for the day.
“Perhaps I’m a match,” he said.
My first reaction finally surfaced, disbelief widening my eyes. “Pardon me?”
He strode over to the windows and opened them like doors. Chilly air nipped at my skin yet the shock confined the shiver. “Wildcat, I challenge you. But you cannot hold back. If you win, I’ll tell you who is the Eagle hidden in Snipers. But if I win, you are proving to me you haven’t worked hard enough.” He faced me with those winter eyes, his challenge congealing my feet to the ground.
“Do we have a deal?”
Any words froze in my throat. And so I did what I did best. I directed my emotions towards my actions.
I tossed two duals in his direction with more force than I intended. He swiftly caught them and I swore, those eyes glistened. “Let me show you why you’re known as wildcat.”
I picked up an evenly matched pair of dual swords, the blades ringing as I tested them on my hands. “A battle in the skies. I’ll be sure to check this off my Bucket List.”
I pursued after his laughter, out onto the large aircraft patio.
Standing at a fair distance, loose strands of my ponytail danced in the wind. I matched his ready stance, one foot in front of the other.
“Ready, old man?” I teased.
“Ready, wildcat.”
I pounced first. I lunged my sword but he deflected it and pushed me off my own power. I dodged during my stumble except his cut briefly landed, slicing one spaghetti strap. One side step escaped his next slash, and I made a strike for his hip.
He guarded my blow and recoiled back, a little surprised by the power in my attack. I took the open window and drove again with my other sword. This time he his defence was weaker. I swung again, but he dodged my hit and attacked.
He leaped for my rib cage and my skin quacked under the missing blade. I stuck out my sword, and connected metal against metal, locking his with mine. Our blades made a big sharp X. The barrier between my face and his.
Both our shoulders shook from the pressure. We released at the same time and he dropped to the floor, swinging his leg across. I hurdled over and bent all the way back into a bridge. The breeze of his sword flying above my face, broke a sweat down my neck. I went back up and prevented another kick in the face with my arm.
I prolonged several back flips away to ease the tension. Landing on my two feet, it irritated me to see his smirk.
“I thought you were a wildcat, not a scaredy cat,” he laughed.
My heartbeat pounded twice as normal. He played with the swords in his hand, spinning them round and round. The lid shook again, trembling to conceal. He stayed put, waiting in his humouring patience.
My nail carvings pierced into the ribbon wrapped handles. “Don’t tame it, wildcat,” he said. “Focus on it.” The darkness merged into my eyes, black and natural brown looping together. Hot and cold entwined in my blood, braiding as my system battled for its life.
Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. I charged with the two dual swords by my side, hoping his intensity will distract it. Our blades made a sharp cling and we retracted to smash silver again. His blade ducked under mine and locked both our swords together into the same X. The lid shook faster in my chest and I pressed it down, teeth shattering at the force. “Embrace it,” he whispered. He drove our swords up and relieved the straining as he did his own flip backwards. Hot. Cold. Hot.
Cold.
The lid burst and my eyes were full of black. My blood ran a deathly ice trail, cycling from the toes to my poisoned heart. The sound of the wind was clear, my feet felt weightless, the ravenous monster saw its prey, the smell of fear was delicious, and the taste of blood was throbbing.
I turned over my handles to reveal the gleaming side of the swords. Deep within the sixth sense world, my soul exchanged with its ego. I disappeared. She rose. Wickedness. Malicious. Hunger. The last strike dipped my cold body into burning Hell.
I sped forward and saw he was going to deflect the charge, I jumped over him and before he turned, I kicked his spine. He staggered and luckily, swerved around to wedge a blade to save his neck.
“Focus it, wildcat,” the stranger said. “Focus it!”
I swiped my sword down, cutting his in half. He dropped it in its terrible state and used the other to defend my two attacks. While in mid swing, he drove his heel into the handle, one of my swords clanging to the ground.
Enraged, I swung my sword at all open angles, his hands quivering as his weapon collided repeatedly. My attacks grew at inhumane speeds and he missed, his voice crying out while the blade skimmed his knee. I knocked my foot up his chin, and he snapped back, falling flat on his spine.
I swooped up and he lifted his sword in time to have the two weapons stop each other. “Wildcat! Don’t let it control—” I bounced off his straining sword and drove it down again. He escaped with a head tilt and then kicked me off, propelling me back. I somersaulted off his push, and landed bending down, blade anxious to draw his thick warm blood.
He rushed onto his feet, prepared for the unpredictable. The stranger spoke calmly yet I grinned at the aroma of panic wafting after his heavy breathes. “Don’t let it control you. Control it. You embrace, and conquer. Not it.”
The stranger’s language was foreign and I walked over with that amusing grin. The sound of my blade scraping on the ground as I approached caused a flinch in his left shoulder.
I toyed with his stranger, digging in kicks instead of my blade. I wanted the stranger broken first. Pain and then gain. One more foot to the chest, he coughed and I swayed the sword for his shoulder. The unannounced strength obstructed his destined fate of death but I wasn’t done. My moves were quick and nimble and soon, my foot swept across his ankles and his head smacking on the ceramic was thrilling. I punted his blade on the other side of the patio and stalked over. The hunger was unbearable.
“Wildcat, stop!” he shouted, trying to scramble away.
I sickly laughed at the stupid name and stepped on both his feet, keeping them in place. “Try not to scream,” I rasped.
“Jessie!”
The sixth world was activated and my ego began to suck the other out. I screamed at the sudden extraction, it feeling like I was being ripped in half. My limbs were tearing and my octaves flew higher as I felt flames break free. Two types of blood braided together and the hotness was shortly restored.
The blackness sunk into its own darkness, the brown rising. A wash of comforting tenderness eased my edgy muscles and my legs were immobile. I collapsed on top of Romane, the sword plummeting beside our heads.
Our deep breathes were the only noises made for a long time.
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We returned to his office, nuzzled against one another on the furry white couch. I normally would have been ecstatic for hot mug of coca in my hands but I was still shaken.
“Your drug,” Romane said after an hour of silence, “The monster, was stronger than I thought. You’re growing.”
I refused to speak.
He said, “The only reason I could get through was because you’re young. You haven’t fully developed yet. That’s why you must be able to control this before it consumes you.”
I started tugging lightly on my black hair strands hanging by my weary eyes. “I apologize for what I did. But I refuse to be locked up as a consequence,” I said lowly.
He doesn’t speak, and I was secretly proud of not giving into the form of animalism.
He touched my hand and I flinched before allowing his cold fingers link between mine. “Locking you up isn’t the solution.” He tucked the loose strand behind my ear and held my head so he could arrest my gaze. Soothing warmth surged under his touch. “I do not want to break you. I want to make you stronger. Even though you couldn’t control the monster inside at first, you made it work in the end.”
“Who is the Eagle in Snipers?”
I wasn’t in the mood for his small pity talk. That sympathetic shit wasn’t how I rolled now.
He fetched a folder from his desk and my hands were tremoring under the thin sheet. “One of our best Eagles work in that manipulating web of lies,” he said. “Fortunately, this Eagle is pure. They give weekly reports on what’s going on. Tell me if you know them.”
Be strong, Jess. I drew a quick breath and opened it. The photo of that familiar face stopped my heart. The folder slumped against my shoes and I had to squeeze Romane from fainting.
“No.”
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Who do you think the undercover Eagle in Snipers is?
Thoughts on Jess’s transformation? Thoughts on anything!?
When this appeared in the story --> 3 That’s the symbol on Jess’s back. The exact scar. Except imagine instead of curves they're straight lines. An actual W. Sideways.
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