Chapter 6
Lauren steps into the warehouse from the left entrance as I break down the door to the right. We don’t get any time to adjust to the new surroundings as men swarmed the room around us from both sides, bullets piercing through the air, aimed at us.
I raise my semi-automatic rifle until the scope is within my sight and fire one, two, three times. Bodies drop with every bullet that leaves the chamber. Two of the men duck for cover behind couches, and I spray the bullets through the fabric without a care for where they land.
Idiots. Don’t they know fabric isn’t bulletproof?
From inside the first area we breached, there are three couches placed in a semi-circle around a flat screen plugged into the wall.
There’s a table in the middle of the room, filled with empty glass bottles and half-smoked cigarettes.
And now, four dead bodies leak blood onto the cream-coloured rug in the centre of the living area.
Another door opens, and two more men run out; one holding a machete and the other holding an axe. They barely make it two steps before their bodies drop to the floor. Smoke spills free from the barrel with every bullet I fire, now heating up with every pull of the trigger.
Crimson pools the grey concrete floors, the thick, red blood seeping into the cracks on the uneven floor. I step my boot in the blood, making a squelching sound as the liquid coats my boot print. I want the others to come find me. Then I get to kill them, too. So, I leave them a trail to follow.
Opening the door at the back of the warehouse, a knife comes barrelling towards my head. I barely have time to drop down, the blade narrowly missing my head and instead hitting the doorframe above me. Play time.
Unsheathing my knife, I allow a split second to recon the room, making sure there are no other unexpected threats waiting to strike.
Only after I’m sure we’re alone, at least for now, I run towards the target, my knife gripped firmly in my hand.
Using the table in the centre of the room for extra height, I build momentum as I take down the target.
His head smashes into the concrete floor below us with the impact, blood dripping down his hair.
The target’s eyes widen, like he hadn’t planned on me being able to get over to him that quickly. His arms flop out from either side of me, landing on my waist and trying to force me to the ground.
But his movements are lazy, sloppy, like he doesn’t know what he’s fighting. Forcing him down to the ground, I sit on his chest, my knees holding down his arms.
“Crazy bitch! Get off me!”
A smile curves my lips as I start to feel the adrenaline flow through me, the thrill before the kill. The favourite part of my job, apart from the kill; that’s pretty fucking cool, too.
I’m selective on where to cut, sticking to both biceps for now as I pierce my blade through the muscles, rendering them useless.
Once I’m satisfied he won’t be able to use his arms anymore, I turn and cut both his Achilles heels, paralysing him.
The screams of his pain bounce around the walls to no end, his face wet and covered in tears.
But I pay no attention to it, I don’t care.
“P-please! N-no!” the target pleads, sweat falling down his forehead as he turns pale. I watch as the shock starts to kick in. It’s our body’s natural response to something traumatic, besides adrenaline.
“Shhhh,” I coo, running my blade across his cheek, not intending to leave a cut, but one appears anyway.
Whoops. Shame, he could have been pretty before.
Tanned skin and straight black hair, piercing green eyes.
Target 87. He’s been hard to find, which is why his target number is so low.
The Academy couldn’t find him, and when they did, he disappeared.
But you can only run so far.
“Where are your computers?” I keep my voice flat, trying to hide the humour that threatens to creep into my tone as I stare down at the man once willing to go against the New Order, now bleeding out and looking up at me desperately, as if I’m going to help.
“I-I have a f-family!” The target tries to find a humanity I haven’t been trained to have.
“So did I. Send them my regards.” Lifting my leg and bringing my boot down on his neck, I cut off his air.
“Where. Are. Your. Computers?”
I watch as his face becomes red. The target claws at my boot, finally realising I won’t back down. I wait moments before he’s about to pass out before lifting my boot, letting him gasp desperately for air, coughing and fighting the swelling in his throat to breathe.
“T-top floor,” the target struggles to say. Instantly, I raise my rifle and a bullet goes between his eyes before I walk up the steps on the back of the wall.
“Anyone up here?” Taunting, I unsheathe my knife and throw my rifle back over my shoulder. I open the door at the top of the staircase before quickly stepping inside and clearing the room. Inside, two computers lay on a desk with chairs either side.
Taking out The Academy hard drive from my thigh pocket, I connect the cables to both computers, downloading all of their information. Once the screen on the hard drive begins to flash 100%, I unplug the cords and place it back in my thigh pocket.
?
The underground is silent when we get back. The other girls are already in the training sector, probably doing more drills while Lauren and I are immediately sent to dress for another mission.
Target 106. Cayden. He was confirmed to be at another meeting, and of course we’re being sent to observe. For the amount of work we’re going through, he better be someone important.
“Normal mission attire, though wear the old training leggings,” the Overseer orders, excusing us from the office.
Lauren and I immediately make our way to the assigned bunk room, changing from our bloodied clothes into a clean, long-sleeved shirt and leggings.
Moving my sheath around my thigh, I make sure the straps are tight before letting my hair down for the first time today.
The Overseer ordered us to look ‘casual’, and I’m sure that having your hair down is casual to the normal world. Or at least from what I’ve seen, it is.
“Do you know where we are going?” Lauren asks, her voice shaking slightly.
I don’t respond. There were seventeen total hostiles, not including the target in the warehouse today, and Lauren didn’t kill one. She put us both in danger today. And I know if I respond right now, I’ll only say something that ends up hurting us both.
The thing is Lauren is great with a weapon.
She’s never missed the target in practice, and she’s deadly with a knife.
But, instead of sucking it up and doing the job the rest of us do to survive, she wallows in self-pity.
No one is coming to save us. We all know it, yet Lauren clings to some miraculous hope that somebody will.
Not that we need saving; The Academy saved us.
Every night I watch her write in her journal about The Academy without a clue what’s being said. But I don’t even have to see the diary to know Lauren is whining about the treatment.
One day, Lauren will realise only she can save herself. My biggest fear is she will realise too late, and The Academy will be rid of her before then. I’m doing everything I can to stop that from happening because despite our issues, Lauren is still like a sister to me.
I don’t want to ever watch her get hurt, but no matter how many times I’ve begged Lauren to get better, to just pretend to understand and want to be here, she doesn’t. I think part of me envies how na?ve she is. I wish I could rely on others to get by.
Lauren will never be like me and Bella, and it’s going to be what gets her killed.
“Get dressed,” I order coldly. Lauren flinches at my tone, but I don’t have it in me to feel bad, not when she almost got us killed today.
“I’ll meet you by the office.” I don’t look up at Lauren as I leave the room, letting her stew in her own thoughts.
By the time Lauren stands by me and the Commander, we’re already in the elevator waiting to go to the surface. The metal clanks as we ride up just in time to see the sun setting, the sky a mix of pink and orange in the clouds, like a painting from the past.
There are no paintings anymore.
“It’s a known black market. Your role is to make sure nothing regarding The Academy is being sold, and to observe the target.” Commander Wolvrin sits in the back of the SUV, facing Lauren as we go towards Zone Three.
If any of the other zones had a black market, we would shut it down instantly. But Zone Three has more leniency; as long as the market doesn’t involve anything that is a direct threat to the citizens or The Academy, we allow them to stay.
When we arrive, Lauren and I step out of the SUV, immediately walking towards the old subway station at the edge of the zone. Although the trains stopped many years before the government took over, the subways in Zone Three were never destroyed since the New Order trusts the workers in Zone Three.
The windows are broken on the outside, the steps leading down to the underground are crumbling. But once we get down to the station, or at least what used to be the station, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
A string of lights hangs across from one stall to the next, lighting up the room.
Wooden boards and planks cover what used to be train tracks, with market stalls on top of them in rows.
There are four rows in total, with shops on the left and right side of each row.
The old tiles are cracked and broken, yet it looks so alive.
I’m sure Bella would know the proper word, but it looks like a painting. A design made on purpose.
Everyone is talking freely, it’s not packed with guards in uniform. In fact, the two guards I do spot are in plain clothes. Elites are also amongst the plain clothes; it’s the citizens who are in the standard dark grey jumpsuits.
If it weren’t illegal, I would almost enjoy being here. But it is, and I’m here on a mission.
Taking the final steps, I walk down to the ground level and up to the first stall, occupied by an elderly woman. Her back is hunched over and she has a thick blanket over her shoulders as she mutters to herself in a language I’ve never heard before.
Her grey hair is matted at the ends, and I feel my heart stop for just a moment. And for just a moment, I feel for her. “Oh hello, sugar,” the woman says in a kind voice.
“I haven’t seen your face around here before. New to the area?” I offer her the warmest smile I can muster, and nod.
“Well welcome, sugar. My name is Camilla. We don’t have a lot here, but what we do have, we trade. If you see anything you like, just let me know, won’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”
Going back to her incoherent mumbling, Camilla grabs two needles and some sort of fluffy string, wrapping it around the needles and moving them. I watch dumbfounded for a moment before snapping out of it. What the hell was that?
“Evening, Cami. I’ll grab two of these, please,” a familiar voice calls from behind me, holding up two items of trash, or at least what looks like trash. I turn to see Cayden standing behind me dressed in a black hoodie and dark blue jeans, his voice much softer than the first time I heard it.
“Well hello, how are things, love?” Camilla greets kindly, and Cayden…smiles at her?
“Same as always, how’s the family?”
“I’m still here, so same old same old.”
They both laugh softly like they’re saying something funny; Camilla’s laugh sounds warm and comforting while Cayden’s is deep and sends my senses on high alert. When he takes a step closer, I can smell his cologne. A mix of musk and pine.
“Darcie.” Cayden’s eyes meet mine, the softness in his voice gone, but it doesn’t leave his eyes, glinting from the lights above us.
“Cayden.”
“Oh how sweet, you two know each other. You take care of her, you hear me? She’s new to town, and I won’t have those cowards doing anything to hurt anyone else.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cayden nods, his eyes still on mine. “Guess you’re mine now, Darcie.”
“I am not anyone’s.” I glare at him, holding his gaze, and his lips twitch in amusement. Camilla hands Cayden a bag in exchange for his trash, and he tips his head, expecting me to follow him to the next stall.
“You don’t like me very much,” Cayden observes, his voice filled with amusement.
“You’re not very nice.”
“You caught me on a bad day last time. I’ll be on my best behaviour today, promise.”
“Somehow I find that hard to believe.” This time, Cayden doesn’t hide his smile as we walk up to another stall. A middle-aged man stands behind it, offering out cups filled with an amber liquid.
“Here, try this,” Cayden says, holding out the glass to me before offering the man a coin. He turns back to me with amusement as I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip, immediately spitting it out.
“Aye, girl. Watch where you’re aiming.”
Cayden busts into laughter before turning back to the stall holder. “She’s new. Traditions are traditions, aren’t they?” The stall holder still gives me a glare before moving on.
“That is awful.”
“I know.” Cayden’s voice is still full of amusement before offering me a cup with a clear liquid I’m hesitant to believe is water.
“No thanks.”
“Don’t trust me?”
“You just tried to poison me. And besides, I don’t even know you.” Cayden’s eyes darken slightly. I watch as he shuts down in front of me, his walls going back up.
“Right.” Then Cayden takes a sip of the clear liquid without hesitation before holding the glass out to me. I wait and watch his face for any reaction, and when he has none, I take a sip. It was, in fact, water.
Well fuck.
“Thank you.” The words feel bitter on my tongue, but I say what I think he wants to hear. Cayden doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, he takes the glass and places it back down before walking away. My mission just got ten times harder.
My target is mad at me, and for the first time, I have to care about it.
This sucks.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.” I surprise myself with the sincerity in my voice. Cayden seems to soften again, but only slightly this time.
“You could never offend me, and besides, it’s tradition to make the fresh meat drink some of Scotty’s rum.”
Rum? He made me drink rum?
“I thought alcohol was illegal in the zones?”
“Only if you’re caught.” Cayden winks before walking away.