Chapter One
Gregory
In training, we were always taught that the European Assassins Guild, or the EAG for short, was the finest of its kind in all the world. They had established bases all across Europe from London, to Paris, to Rome, to Vienna, and they took on missions from anywhere that they needed to. My friend Christophe and I were trained to be part of the five million members that made up the Guild when we were just nineteen years old. After returning to England after the Forgotten War, I made the decision to drop out of Oxford, where I had maintained perfect grades, to follow my dream of becoming an assassin. Christophe had the same ideas as me, for we had spent a good deal of our childhood playing games like Assassins Creed and Hitman, and so desperately wanted to be like them. Of course we thought it impossible, for afterall they were just games; a fantasy that you could only play out in a virtual life, but after the Forgotten War the thought became far less preposterous. With my intelligence and knack for forming efficient plans, and with Christophe's brute strength and apathy to harming others, we made the perfect team for such a job, and so we began to take on the odd job for a bit of extra money. It started off as petty jobs, the things the police were too busy or too lazy to deal with, but it soon escalated and, within months, we were taking down drug cartells and prostitution rings. Soon, news of what we were doing reached the Guildmasters of the EAG and they invited us to join their Guild. Naturally, we accepted and our missions became that little bit harder, but our dream just became much more alive. I couldn't think of a better way to be spending my life, to be honest.
Christophe is particularly short. I've easily got a good two feet on him (not that it makes him any less intimidating when he is angry). His face is too lined for a twenty-three year old and his hair too grey, though still mostly brown. I blame these three facts on the cancer stick currently hanging from his mouth. He has been a chronic chain-smoker since the tender age of twelve, despite my constant nagging.
"Are you going to just stand there and stare?" he asks, his voice still laced with a French accent although he hasn't been in his home country for a good ten years. "Or are you going to get in the car, and come to this fucking meeting?"
"Language, Mr Delorne." I smirk at him. "I'll be there momentarily.
"Fuck off, you British bitch." Christophe grumbles, storming towards the silver mercedes.
Our line of work pays handsomely. It would have to, or no one would risk their lives doing it.
"Thank you for using our services ma'am." I flash my best smile towards the woman we had helped on our latest mission.
It wasn't unusual for us to take jobs that weren't necessarily assassinations, if the money was being offered. We had spent the week following our client's daughter in an attempt to find out why she was acting so strange. Turns out she was hooked on meth, wooden shovelsupplied by the local dealer. We took him out, but didn't bother persuing the whole operation; we weren't getting paid for that.
I shake the woman's hand then join Christophe in the car. I sit in the passanger seat, for Christophe insists on being the driver. I prefer it that way anyway. It means I can allow myself to become lost in my own thoughts without endangering us.
The first mission we were sent on as official members of the EAG was a relatively simple one. We had to infiltrate the base of the major drug traffickers in the towns surrounding London, and London itself. They were the most powerful people in the business, and we were sent in to take the muscle down and confiscate any contraband we could find as a message to the criminals to dissist their operation. It was easy enough for us to complete it. We did it the way we had practiced, with me in charge of the planning and Christophe in charge of the beating. He went in with guns, but Christophe always preferred to get his hands a little bit dirty. His favourite weapon is a shovel, chipped and stained with blood, and though I beg him to get rid of it before it is found by officials, he never listens. What we do is generally for the greater good; taking down the criminals that the police can't find, solving the issues that the FBI don't give a shit about, but we are still breaking the law. We are still just vigilantes to them. Anyway, Christophe took down the guards while I took the drugs and we got out of there in one piece. Perhaps for any other team, the mission would be a huge challenge, but not for us. We had fought in the Forgotten War, and we had lived. Yes, I thought for sure Christophe was dead because of it, but here he is today sitting beside me in our car, perfectly fine. That was our first real mission, and Satan is tougher than any gang member or murderer the world can throw at us. I think of how we had rallied together, how we had fought united and never given up, and how we had won, and my thoughts naturally lead to that perfect kiss with my first love. She was so proud that I had led us to victory, she was so happy to be alive, and her feelings led her to grabbing me and pulling me close and sharing that kiss.
Wendy...
A sharp elbow to the ribs brings me crashing to reality and she is fading like a ghost back into the back of my mind, and the warmth I was sure I had felt retreats with her. I know that after five years she is just a daydream to me, just an illusion brought on by so many years of lonliness, but it still saddens me to lose my grasp on her image. Yes, I have had Christophe as company, and I suppose I do see the guildmaster in a fatherly sort of role, but nothing compares to the feeling of a female's touch.
"Stop daydreaming." Christophe growls. "It isn't healthy for you to keep getting lost like this."
"And it isn't healthy to smoke." I grumble, unclipping my seatbelt.
He rolls his eyes.
"That's different." he says. "That doesn't mean I'm crazy."
"Nor am I." I say, getting out of the car.
He follows me with a laugh.
"Yes it does." he argues. "You need therapy, man."
"Let's just go see what our next mission is." I sigh, walking up the steps to the door to our headquarters.
A girl I have never seen before stands in the hall, and though I am hesitant to approach a stranger, a faint feeling of familiarity stirs within me.
At first glance, she reminds me of Wendy in so many ways. The way her hair cascades down her back with a gentle wave, those big brown eyes framed by long, thick eyelashes, the air of confidence that radiates from her... and that smile. Those thin, soft lips curved upwards at one side. For one fleeting moment, I think it is her, for I have not seen her in so long and she has had time to grow and change, but then she speaks and I know that it can't be.
"Hiya." she greets with a Scottish lilt. "Would you two happen to be Christophe Delorne and Gregory Johnstone?"
I can feel my chest restrict as a feeling of panic spreads through my body and lights my senses ablaze. It is instinct for us to worry when someone knows our full names. Cliche as it is, we go by either codenames or numbers to those outside the Guild for our own protection, but this girl knows who we are. If she chose to, she could tell a good number of people our location, and who we really are, and have us killed in a heartbeat. Before I can form any of this into words, Christophe begins to speak.
"Who the hell are you." he snarls, his hand hovering over his prized shovel that he keeps strapped to his back for emergencies.
I used to laugh at him for thinking he would need it at all times, but now I am glad he does.
"Relax, 630." she shows her teeth as her smile widens. "I am Agent 890, or Sheana if you'd prefer. I transferred here from the Edinburgh branch, and I am to be your new partner."
"New partner?" I smirk at her. "Sorry, but we work alone."
No matter how much the girl reminds me of my lost love, I do not look forward to changing the dynamics of my partnership with Christophe. Change is uneccessary at this point, and would just disturb the flow of things.
"Not any more." she shrugs.
"The Guildmaster said nothing about this." Christophe snarls.
Surely our boss would tell us of such extreme changes. He would at least warn us that we would come across a strange girl, and he would surely consult us to ensure that we wanted her any where near us.
"Probably because he knew you'd act like this." she shrugs. "I-"
But our argument is cut short when the Guildmaster himself walks into the room.
"She says she's to be our partner." Christophe snarls before our boss even has the chance to open his mouth.
"She is somehow convinced that you told her so." I chime in.
Perhaps five years ago when we were first inducted into the Guild we would talk in a more respectful manner to our boss, but we quickly learned that it won't win us brownie points in this organisation.
"She says right." the Guildmaster shrugs. "So you can let go of your shovel, Christophe."
The Frenchman complies, but he doesn't look happy about it.
"Why?" I ask, referring to the partnership idea.
"You two are adverse to change." the Guildmaster tells us. "We need to change that. Sheana here is as skilled as you, but with a different set of skills. I think she could come in handy, when you are faced with more challenging jobs."
"We would adapt to handle it our selves." I say confidently, and the man just smiles with mirth in his eyes.
"Perhaps you would." he says. "But it would be slower. It would be less efficient."
"and efficiency is everything." I finish for him.
It is another of the phrases that were relentlessly drummed into us when we were in training.
We are the best at what we do; efficiency is everything; death before failure; protect the innocent... The list is really never ending when I stop to think about it.
"It is settled then." he says, handing me a big yellow envelope which I know holds the information for our latest mission. "Now you can stop arguing, before I make you spend a night in the hole. And that goes for all of you."
Ah, the "Hole". A glorified cupboard that they shove us into when we refuse to follow orders, or when we mouth back to our superiors. It can sometimes be hard to believe that we are the best at what we do, when our systems are so basic, but I suppose we must be effective. People keep seeking us out, they keep hiring us, and some keep joining us.
"Let's go then." Christophe says, walking back towards the door. "This mission won't complete itself."
I've had this one sitting on my laptop for a good few months now. I tried to adapt it into an original work, but decided that it works best as a fanfic. I hope you enjoyed!
P.S. I've written most of this already, so it shouldn't take as long to get uploaded as the others do. They just need edited now.
P.P.S I don't own anything but the story-line and the character Sheana.