I’ve missed this feeling.
Bree lets out a short laugh loud enough to snag a few people’s attention, including mine. She looks me up and down, judging me for grabbing a handgun while everyone else is peacocking to garner solid teammates in the trials.
“You’re in my way, runt.” One of the larger male cadets shoulders me aside and grabs what looks like an ACE 32 assault rifle, but this line has a few more enhancements around the muzzle, which I’m assuming are suppressors. There’s an attachment on the side for a combat knife to click into as well. A nice addition, considering that the body of the gun is made for long-distance. This thing is a fucking beast. I glance at the label on the rack. Raze 48.
I’m really notthatshort. I’m like five foot five. Everyone else here is just abnormally tall. I glower at the guy, who is the embodiment of how I picture musclehead douchebags. His name is tossed around in whispers as he passes the others.
Wraith.I doubt it’s his real name, but I commit it to memory, I’m adding him to the list of people I plan on disposing of in the trials. Like Arnold, who I’m certain I’ve seen hanging around with Wraith in the short time I’ve been here.
He struts across the room like he has a stick up his ass until he reaches the firing range. Everyone stops what they’re doing to watch him, so I join them and wait to see what’s so worth observing.
Bree stands beside me and sighs. “You can tell he’s going to have a heyday killing people in the trials.” Her comment goes unanswered, but I absently nod as I watch him.
Wraith lies on the ground and fires off a bullet at the farthest target, at least five hundred feet away against the wall. It blows straight through the wood and cracks the cement. He does it four more times to four succeeding targets. He’s good, I’ll give him that, but if that’s his one secret talent, then he’s outing himself asa one-trick pony. Wraith stands, knowing everyone is watching him as he shoots me a nasty smile.
His eyes are basically sayingI’m going to kill you in the trials. Great. Cameron was right in assuming we’d be targeted. I’m the weak link of the two of us, at least in everyone else’s eyes.
Two can play this game. I’m actually quite good at it, and I don’t need to out my best methods of killing either.
I walk nonchalantly to one of the ballistic dummies and look straight at Wraith, making sure our eyes are locked as I lift my arm until the muzzle of the gun meets the temple, the tender part of a skull. Not only is that where the superficial temporal artery lies, but it’s also a junction point for multiple bones in the skull. A lethal flaw in our design. I squeeze the trigger, and the dummy’s fake brains blow all over the left side of the weapons room.
The entire room falls silent.
“I don’t need to be far away to blow your head off. I’ll be right by your side, whispering something distasteful as I send you away,” I say with a sweet smile. I’ve said some crazy shit before ending my targets with the pull of a trigger. Executioners have personalities too.
I take in the gaping mouths. Did they assume I’m not capable of killing someone? How do they think I earned a ticket down here? It makes me want to laugh. Just because I’m small and have pink hair doesn’t mean I’m weak.
Cameron’s eyes are filled with a new curiosity. Bree grins and elbows Damian whose jaw is slack at my audacity.
Wraith flinches, and fury fills those dark eyes. “You won’t even know what hit you,” he spits back at me. I don’t miss the unease that flashes through his expression. Usually people like him don’t like when they misjudge their prey. He’s so easy to read it’s laughable. He’s definitely going to be a force to be reckoned with, but his cockiness and ego will be his downfall.
I walk back to the gun table and put the pistol back in its place, deciding it will be better to observe for today and save my training for early mornings before anyone else is awake. It’s stupid to give up your edge when you’re going to be fighting everyone else around you.
I try to focus on the people using the combat knives the most, following their patterns and how they fight. Close combat isn’t exactly my strong suit. A window across the street with a sniper rifle? Great. An assault rifle while taking down a group of guards? Splendid. But knife fighting is where I’ve always lacked. I’m starting to regret all those times I told Reed I didn’t need to practice it because I’d always have a gun.
I’ll never forget the way my mom’s eyes changed after seeing my work. She wasn’t supposed to be at the warehouse for another hour at least, and I’d just finished pulling names from the guy. I sliced his mouth open on each side from lips to his mandible. Severing his jaw so it hung like the silver-tongued snake he was. I thought it was fitting, poetic in the way he’d be remembered and found. That’s the day I lost her love. Her husband’s wicked little killer.
She never looked at me the same, and I made sure to be more careful, so she never had to see it firsthand again. I’d gotten too used to Reed’s compliments for putting my passion to use while on the job. His advice was sound, because it did make me feel better.
Two birds with one stone.
After closely observing the knife fighting, I find a place to sit along the wall and focus on watching the others to learn what their strengths and weaknesses are. Memorizing them will be difficult since there’s so many of us. I try to keep it to only the cadets I think will stand a chance out there, since most of them will be goners in the first trial anyway.Myself potentially included.I frown at the intrusive thought.
It doesn’t take long for my eyes to find Damian.
He selects a black combat knife the length of half his forearm. The light glints over the glossed edge of it before he starts striking a dummy with it. He handles the blade divinely, with movements as smooth as waves. A matter of five seconds has passed and he’s already finished and breathing heavily. The dummy is left completely bled out from all the major artery points and the ligaments controlling the legs and arms have been severed. If that was a person, they wouldn’t be able to move their limbs.
Damian is intelligent in knowing the body’s parts and psychologically getting information out of people.Noted.
Bree isn’t too far away, talking sweetly to a group of cadets that seem entirely smitten by her smile. She knows how to manipulate others well. Her lovely features and smooth compliments toward them go a long way too.A charmer.
He and Bree make a pretty scary team. I bet they’re already in an agreement to stick together during the trials and have a pretty healthy number of options to add to their team too, considering how many cadets chat so casually with them. Surely spilling secrets, as I did before realizing it. I groan at my own foolishness.
“Makes you wonder what they all did in the real world, doesn’t it?”
My shoulders tense at Cameron’s unexpected presence. I must’ve zoned out because I didn’t notice him coming in. He presses his back against the wall and slides down until he’s sitting beside me. Our arms brush and the warmth from his thighs spreads to mine. I bristle, but remain still and try to keep a smooth expression. There are way too many eyes on us, and we need to appear like a good working unit.
I wrap my arms around my knees casually so we aren’t touching anymore, and study him. The stories Damian and Breeshared earlier definitely made me more wary of him, but I feel safe with all the people in the room. Not that I think they’d help me if he attacked, but Cameron seems like more of a private killing kind of guy.
