Iam armed to the teeth. I have a pistol in my holster and another in my boot, and six knives strapped to my vest. It’s excessive and tedious, lugging around all these weapons, but I refuse to be caught off guard.
It’s like at every corner someone wants to kill me.
Last week, a Gifted officer went ballistic on me. He could multiply into numerous people. Unlike Ender, they weren’t an illusion; they were flesh and blood. I was heading to the medical facility when the freak with the two-toned hair and demented smile popped out of nowhere.
It was right after I had another tussle with Rei in the mess hall. The enforcers didn’t bother to interfere, and the bitch slammed me against the wall, right after I broke her nose.
“Warrick.”
I jump, drawing out my pistol and pointing it behind me.
Ender leans against the building, unfazed by the fact that I am waving my barrel at him.
“Lower your weapon,” he says.
“Give me back my gun,” I reply. “The one you stole.”
He reaches behind him and holds my firearm. It dangles laxly from his finger.
“This one?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Strangely enough, I noticed something when I looked at the grip. There is an initial,” he says. “H.W.”
Shit.
“It belongs to my sister,” I say slowly. “She let me borrow it.”
“Hmm,” he muses.
The gun flies in the air, and I leap forward, catching it with my right hand.
“Let’s go,” he says. “You’ve been reassigned.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
I fall into step beside him anyway.
He disappears for weeks at a time, then reappears like a bad omen. I’ve been waiting for this, waiting to corner him, to demand he let me see Mercy.
His gaze drops to my tactical vest and lingers there.
“You look like a child playing dress-up,” he says. “Why the hell are you wearing that if you’re not going on a mission?”
“I’m a popular target, in case you haven’t heard,” I say. “I have to be prepared at all times.”
He lets out a quiet, humorless breath.
“Did you ever consider that maybe no one would pick on you if you didn’t act out so much?”
I stop short. He takes one more step before realizing I’m no longer beside him.
“Excuse me?” I say. “Are you saying I deserve to be beaten to a pulp?”
His eyes harden. “I’m saying you could try respecting your betters.”
Anger coils tight in my chest. I march ahead of him before spinning around, forcing him to stop and look down at me.
