To Determine One's Fate
Chapter 1: Member
Learning the art of the kill at the age of 17 is weird enough, not to mention its location is in Vegas and you're the only chick there...well, technically, I'm the only smart chick there. But I never expected so many things to happen to me. Oh, by the way, my name is Jessenia Ortiz, I'm 20, and I'm a 4th degree B assassin.
Well, I guess I should start at the beginning; I was a happy little girl, happy parents, and a great life. Then my dad was murdered, taken from me. After that, my mom completely changed. Weeks after his death, we became apart, avoiding each other at all costs. Then we started to argue about everything and anything practically every night. I came home late, we fought over who should have to pay the bills, and she bitched to me about getting a job.
As our relationship diminished, I also started to change. I drank every now and then, though I didn't go far, I stole car parts and hustled pool to make my own money, plus I got in a fight, usually with a girl, almost all the time. All that anger that built up inside me became my ultimate weapon, a powerful one too. After I turned 16, I ran away, taking my cell phone, my money, and my knife disguised as a USB port on a necklace. I walked into a bar to drink. It was the kind of place that didn't care if its customers were underage, as long as they had money, nothing else mattered.
I ordered a simple Corona with a lime and salt on the rim; that's when it happened. At the very end of the bar counter, I saw a guy, about 17 years old, wearing a black hoodie, light jeans, and converse shoes, black like mine, holding a regular Corona in his hands. I've had previous encounters with freaks before, and I knew self-defense from countless fights I've gotten myself into, so I wasn't worried. But as I paid attention to the mirror behind the drinks, I had a feeling that he was harmless. "You shouldn't be drinking, you know," said a deep voice behind me. I took a sip of my drink, which by now was almost half-empty...or half-full if you want to get all scientific and complicated. "You were drinking," I responded to his image in the mirror. "I'm older than you," he sat down next to me, staring at my image in the mirror.
"Mess with me, and you won't be able to shit for weeks, understand?" I said. "You're bluffing," he smiled. "Wanna bet?" I replied, pounding my fist on the counter and looking into his deep brown eyes with intense anger. He cupped his hands together on the counter, then said, "Angry, huh?" I took another sip of my drink, not once letting down my gaze. "I'm Nick," he said. "And I'm leaving," I said, getting up. At that moment, the front doors burst open and the bar was filled up with men wearing black masks, pants, and jackets, wielding pistols and knives.
I heard one of them scream "Get them!" and pointed at me as I turned around. I felt Nick's hand pull me and my arm out the back door, ending up in a dark alley. As I jerked my hand away from his, and said, "Alright, what's going on?" I heard the screech of a car nearing the left side of the alley. "There's no time to explain," he said, taking my arm once more and dragging me to a black Lamborghini Gallardo that pulled up next to us. I heard the back door of the bar bust open and had no doubts that it was the terrorist guys after us.
"Go, they're catching up!" he yelled to the driver, whose face I could barely make out as a man's. "What the hell is happening, why are you taking me, and where are we going?" I demanded. "Should I tell her now?" He asked the driver. "Yes," we answered simultaneously. "Alright, fine. But first, I have to ask you something." I gave him a sharp look, but once we stared at each other long enough, I gave up, slouched in my seat, and raised my eyebrows, signaling him to start.
He raised a privacy slide I hadn't noticed, creating a barrier between us and the driver. "Your dad-his name was Juan Ortiz, right?" I nodded, biting my lower lip hard to stop my tears. "And he was murdered, right?" I nodded again, biting less. "Well those guys back there, they work for the group who killed him." "And how do you know that?" "I'll get to that later. Anyway, this group is called 'The Vikers'. They're a group of assassins." He gave me some time to soak up the information, and then continued. "You know how there's positive and negative, black and white, sharp and smooth..." "Opposites?" I interrupted. "Well there's an opposite for The Vikers, too: The Sacreds, another group of assassins."
"So what's the difference between them then?" "The Sacreds work for the government, though they're supposed to be a secret, and track down as well as assassinate the most dangerous threats to the public, whereas The Vikers assassinate people who are associated with anyone they despise...I know all this because I'm a member of The Scareds." He finished, leaning back in his seat and looking at me. "So what do you want me for?" I asked. "All members of The Sacreds were once victims of a Vikers attack." There was silence between us as I took it in. "The leader of The Sacreds sent me to ask you to join if you wanted to avenge your father's death." I took a deep breath, and thought of the consequences of being an assassin: nothing.
I had no one who would worry about me, no friends who would care, and no pets to take care of. I only had one thing in mind. "So how many members have avenged their attacks?" I asked. "Many. Once they avenge their deaths, they have the choice to continue to be assassins, or leave the group, becoming one with society." "So what do you think?" he asked. I stared at the floor, preparing to make the biggest choice of my life. I looked up at him and said, "Count me in." He smiled and lowered the slide and said "She's in." to the driver. "Okay," he said. Immediately, the car came to a gentle stop, turned left, and went into an underground tunnel. "Where are we going?" I asked.
"The Sacreds Headquarters," the driver replied. "You need to be grouped," Nick added. "Which means..?" "Once we get there, you'll need to be observed by the judges." The car came to a final stop, parking in between two other black Lamborghinis. "So what's up with the fast cars? Are limos in the past now?" I asked, getting out of the car with Nick while the driver stayed. "They're better escape cars than limos," he said, leading me into an elevator. He pushed a button with a tiger symbol that glowed white.
"Damn right about that," I chuckled, imagining the sight of a Lamborghini outrunning a limo in just seconds. I felt an abrupt bump and a ding, signaling it had reached our floor. We stepped into a hallway lined with marble statues of archers, all leading to a temple-like structure ahead. A few minutes of silence passed between us as we walked, when Nick said, "Well, shouldn't we be talking? This is special bonding time we got here."
I burped, showing my excitement to get to know him. "Ladylike," he replied. "Thank you," I said. It was a longer walk than I thought, but we finally got to the temple where I would be evaluated. "Okay. The whole process is pretty concise. You'll be judged on your abilities in three main levels: hand-to-hand combat, silent assassination, and long range shooting. Then, you'll be placed in your starting category, based on how you scored."
He pushed a button on the wall to his left as we entered it, and a blue screen appeared, showing pictures of different guns and their names. "Pick one for long-range shooting," he motioned his hand to the screen. I bit my lip as I looked for the one I was thinking of. "Got an M8?" I asked. The picture was in the lower left corner and was supersized to fit the center of the screen. "Any attachments?" he asked. "Yeah, I want a 6x scope on it." Immediately a virtual scope appeared on the gun. "Satisfied?" he asked. "Yup."
"Alright. It'll be handed to you when you get to the station." He led me to a corridor and said, "Good luck." "Don't need it," I said to him without looking back.