Chapter 3 #2
The building in front of us is big and beautiful, with large pillars outside and floor-to-ceiling windows covering the walls where the marble doesn’t.
It looks like something out of one of the fairytales Bella speaks of before the war.
Before we created the systems that protect the citizens.
Walking up to the large double doors, we show our fake IDs to the security guards before being allowed to continue. As soon as we’re inside, a boy dressed in all white gives us a glass of champagne from a tray.
I drink it immediately to calm my nerves, I can almost hear my heartbeat. The fizzy alcohol almost immediately goes to my empty stomach.
It’s always the moment before I find my target that my nerves start to play. I start to second guess myself like I wasn’t trained for this.
Carefully, I readjust my earpiece, tapping it once to make sure Lauren can hear me. And sure enough, I get a tap back in response.
Well, at least she can do one thing right.
Making our way into the large ballroom, Lauren and I start to look around, trying to find our target amongst the crowds mingling together.
It’s weird to see so many people casually talking at once; this type of connection would get you put in the chair for three days in The Academy, if not more. But of course no one knows that. Every detail about The Academy is confidential, including the fact it exists.
I wonder if they know what they do to us there. Our existence is known to the world despite The Academy’s best efforts. Not our identities, just what we do.
Nothing has been confirmed, of course, but the rumours run around Zone Three and the elites, who just pretend not to know.
“I don’t see him,” Lauren whispers into the earpiece.
“I’m going to check the bathroom. Wait for me here.”
Walking out of the room into the corridors, I look around, hoping to find the target out here, preferably alone, but I don’t back down from a challenge.
I turn off my earpiece, leaning against the corridor wall, needing a moment of reprieve from the mission and the sound of my heartbeat racing so hard I can feel it pulsing in my veins. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and I don’t like it. Why am I so nervous?
Although Lauren and I are the only ones who can hear each other right now, our conversations are recorded and sent to Madam and the Overseer for review, and it’s not worth the risk of the chair.
Once I manage to calm myself down, I turn my earpiece back on and make my way outside instead of going to the bathroom. I search outside in the courtyard for any sign of the target, trying to find anything to go off, but coming up short.
The party is loud inside as I make my way back in. I take the time to survey the room, something I probably should’ve done when we first arrived, but curiosity won out.
We are in some sort of grand hall with large marble pillars on either side of the room, the walls decorated in the same material. Hardwood floors line the room, while the ceiling almost looks bronze with three large chandeliers.
The outside of the floor is decorated in tables with white cloth draping down from the top to bottom, with gold metal chairs placed in a circle around the table to seat six people.
Maybe if I can find the target, I can find a way to be close to him and observe.
On the left side of the room are two doors leading to the outside courtyard, which is surrounded by brown metal tin roofs.
The courtyard has a large tree in the centre, its long, slender branches falling with leaves so thin yet dense, it looks like drooping silk.
Beautiful. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before outside of The Academy.
Forcing myself to look away, I turn to the back of the room. There are two doors on either side of a stage, leading out to the backrooms, I assume, which more than likely lead to the kitchen and other areas not meant for guests.
Exactly where I want to be.
“See anything?” Lauren whispers through the earpiece, and I shake my head despite not knowing if she can see me.
“Nothing yet.”
I memorised the photo from the mission briefing, though it was slightly blurred. One thing catches my attention: there is a scar across the bridge of his nose and down his left eyebrow, which will be how I manage to identify him.
If I can fucking find him.
Our usual targets aren’t so hard to find. With an everyday mission, like the one from yesterday, we know exactly where our target will be, down to the very spot. But for formal missions, irregular missions, it’s harder.
They tend to only send the best of us on formal missions, due to their unpredictability and the fact that we don’t have any idea what we’re walking into.
Usually, there is no room for mistakes. Only today there is; we could walk around all night and not find him, and still complete the mission. For the first time, I’ve left The Academy with the orders not to kill someone.
There’s a first for everything, I suppose.
Though I would argue most people’s firsts do not involve not taking a life every time they leave the house, or an abandoned warehouse with a brutal training academy in the basement.
“Darlia? Any updates?” Lauren interrupts my thoughts again.
“Where are you?” I ask instead, wanting to know if she is actually doing something or if she’s just standing around like Lauren usually does. Lauren might be a good friend, but she is a terrible assigned partner.
And in our world, your assigned partner matters more than your friend.
“Close to the stage, right side.”
Immediately, my eyes scan the room for her, and I find Lauren in the corner doing anything but blending in.
Sticking out like a sore thumb, Lauren wraps her arms around her stomach anxiously. An emotion that should have been trained out of us by now, but not her. Several guests look at her with concerned glances, but none dare to approach.
“Any sign of him?” I ask again, watching as Lauren shakes her head from across the room.
“No, nothing yet.” With a groan of frustration, I start walking around the room, watching as some of the elites dance, clearly in their element, while others just stand around talking, drinking glasses of champagne. Everyone looks like they belong here.
Everyone but me and Lauren.
Though Lauren looks out of place because of how anxious she is.
I, on the other hand, have been trained to stand straight and to always look emotionless.
I’m not even aware I am looking unapproachable until I see another guest look me up and down before walking away.
Clearly deciding against approaching me.
Then I see him; Target 106.
Standing outside and leaning against the railing, the target is smoking a cigarette.
He’s tall, like really tall, with messy, dark brown hair that has a slight curl to the strands that frame his face.
The target’s skin is tanned with a subtle, pink tinge, like someone who regularly spends time in the sun.
His eyes are a dark brown with a ring of golden-hazel flecks.
I clocked the slightly faded scar that runs horizontally over the bridge of his nose, and the other in his left eyebrow that appears fresher.
Found you.
Taking a step outside, a gust of wind brushes past me, sending goosebumps down my arms. The sky, only noticeable from the gap of the tin roof around the tree, is filled with stars flashing bright and bold.
“Lost?” the target asks, his voice gruff as he takes another puff of his cigarette, not even bothering to look at me. But I don’t miss the judgement clouding his eyes.
“No, just wanted some fresh air.” I offer him my nicest smile before stopping a few steps behind the target. “Having fun?” I ask, adding a softness to my voice that isn’t usually there.
“Oh yeah, being in a crowded room full of people I don’t know is my idea of fun. You?”
I’m outside of The Academy, so I consider this to be much more fun than the alternative, which was having to fight Lauren on the mat.
“You could say that,” I finally respond before quickly adding, “but it is quite warm in there, not the most enjoyable.”
“Mhmm,” the target replies, less than impressed with my attempt to talk to him.
I don’t like it. I’ve never had to impress a target before.
“What did you do before this?” The target’s eyebrows raise in surprise at my question before he replies,
“Stuff.”
Groaning internally and rolling my eyes, I turn to him with the brightest smile I can muster without it looking fake.
“And you are?” The target amuses me by asking, obvious that he doesn’t care.
PX-3. “Darcie.” Giving a fake name was easy; I had this one picked out for my first target, a nickname my mum used to call me. “What’s your name?”
“Cayden.” He offers his hand, and I look down at it like a puzzle. What is he doing? I take his hand nonetheless, and he shakes our joined hands. What the hell?
“What?” He looks down at me, looking as confused as I am. He takes a step back and runs a hand through his hair, messing up the curly strands.
“Nothing, sorry. Just a little dazed.” I smile, trying to recover from almost blowing my cover.
“What brings you to an event like this?” I ask, focusing on his lips as they twitch slightly in amusement, like he’s fighting a smile.
“Obligation.” Cayden takes another puff of the cigarette, blowing it away from me while his eyes never leave mine.
“What about you? A beautiful girl in a terrible place, it’s a tragedy.”
“Terrible place?” My brows knit together. Does he know something I don’t?
I wouldn’t be surprised since I was only allowed three words for this mission. Usually, I’m given the exact reason why they’re a target, but with Cayden, I have nothing.
“Nobody got into this room without sacrifice, none of their own,” he replies, sounding like he would rather be anywhere but talking to me.
Usually, I expect it. When I turn up, it’s not to observe. It’s to kill. So obviously, people aren’t pleased to see me. But I haven’t even done anything to Cayden, yet, so I’m a little offended.
Taking the final puff of the cigarette before dropping it to the floor, Cayden stubs the leftover on the concrete with his dress shoe before standing up straight and looking down at me.
“So, what is it you want? My attention? A night to reminisce? My bed? Let’s cut to the point because I’m not interested in any of it, or you. ”
Okay, now I’m pissed.
“I don’t know who pissed on you today, but there is such a thing as trying to be nice, and that was all I was trying to do. You’re standing out here alone, looking like you hate life, so I took the time to try and cheer you up. Forgive me for having a heart.”
Every word was a lie, but Cayden doesn’t know that.
I watch as his eyebrows raise slightly, shock filling his features as his eyes widen and lips press together, almost looking impressed.
Holding back the proud smile that wanted to grace my lips, I turn my back to him and walk away. Suddenly, I think I’m going to enjoy playing with my target.
Darlia: 1
Cayden: 0