The night was cold and cloudy, a brisk chill blanketing the air. Their neighborhood was made up mainly of factory workers, and by this hour they and their families were all in bed. All was silent, until a muffled scream broke through the faux-peacefulness. Two brothers awoke suddenly, alert and searching for the threat. It was not difficult to locate the source of the scream in their small, one-room house. They watched in shock as their little sister was pulled through the open doorway, the intruder's hand placed firmly over her mouth. She kicked and fought, but a small four-year-old is no match for one so highly trained.
The boys yelled and jumped to their feet, rushing after the assailant. When they got outside, however, the kidnapper was nowhere to be seen. They searched the village for the better part of half an hour, but knew all the time that it was futile. They had heard the horror stories, of course, of the girls who were stolen away in the dead of night. Until this moment, they had never believed that it could happen to them; especially since it had been so long since such a thing had occurred.
The youngest brother wept bitter tears, mourning her already. None knew what happened to the girls when they were taken, but one thing was certain: they never returned. Yet while the boy cried, his older brother was filled with a silent rage. He had seen enough misfortune in his life, and he was not going to continue to live like this: in fear, poverty, and working through hardships only to be beaten back down. They would not continue to grow in this environment. He would make something of himself, and his brother. Life was harsh for all who lived it, but for those who knew how to weather it, to push back and force it to meet their needs, it reaped the benefits of fortune and renown. They were going to have that, one day.
Nika strode alongside her teacher. Though it hadn't been explicitly stated, she knew to where she was being led. Almost all of those who passed the Red Room's training program underwent the ceremony. She knew only vaguely what was going to happen, and so it was with a slight feeling of unease that she followed her mentor into the medical ward.
The surgeon spoke quickly with her teacher, and upon hearing their words a sense of nausea joined the fear blooming in the pit of her stomach. They quickly and efficiently prepared her for surgery and then made her lie down on a bare metal gurney. The cold stung her legs and arms, but she said nothing. To complain was a sign of weakness.
They pushed her down a long, bare hallway. She forced her mind to forget what was about to happen, and focused instead on the blinding lights that periodically flashed overhead, and the squeaking and scraping sound that the wheels made as they traveled over the cement floor.
Once they had reached their destination, she was immediately injected with an anesthetic that made the room tilt and blur uncomfortably. Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out a small team of nurses shuffling about, moving tables filled with grotesque instruments around. One of them quietly sidled up to her and pushed an IV into her wrist. She didn't feel it. Soon after, the room ceased it's spinning and her vision began to fade. Everything went dark.
She awoke later, feeling the effects of the surgery. Cold, aching, and for some reason, tired, she looked in puzzlement at her new surroundings. They had moved her to a different location while she slept. The thought was disconcerting, as she now had no idea where in the large building she was, though she supposed she could find her way around easily enough. She was alone. A nurse would be in eventually, though. Looking around once more, she took in the sights (and the term is used loosely). There was a bed (on which she was currently situated) and a clock. Nothing else. The cement walls stretched around her in a seamless square, seeming to grow larger and smaller the longer she looked at them.
She considered getting up, but discarded the idea. They would not appreciate her moving about before she was supposed to, and that would get her in trouble. An hour passed, and then two, and Nika felt herself beginning to grow hungry. She wanted badly to walk around but knew it would be unwise to do so, especially so soon after her surgery. She might hurt herself, and then what? If she was injured, they might decide that she was unfit to be in their service, following which her days would be swiftly cut short. Even if they decided to keep her and let her heal, that would be a major blow to her career. The weak did not advance in their ranks. No, everything must go smoothly. There was no room for error.
As she was mulling over these thoughts, a tall nurse walked in and proceeded to check her vitals. Nika tried not to stare, but this woman caught her attention somehow. There was nothing particularly striking about her. She wasn't exceptionally beautiful; her hair was a plain brown, and tied up into a bun on the back of her head. She wore the traditional nurse's outfit specific to the Red Room. It took her a few moments longer than it should have to pinpoint what exactly had taken her off-guard. This nurse kept looking at her, straight in the eye. This was unusual for an attendant in the Red Room. The fewer personal contacts one made, the better, and looking someone in the eye usually instigated conversation, or at the very least a feeling of camaraderie. The organization and all of its members were steeped in shadow and mystery, and they liked it that way. This odd exchange (if it could be called that) did not last, and Nika chalked it up to a rare but odd occurrence and thought no more of it.
Waiting was an activity which was common in her line of her, and also nigh-on impossible for Nika. She had a raw, untamed energy within her, and there were times when she would catch herself longing to be free of the Red Room so that she might find a way to sate it. These types of thought were not allowed, of course. They were dangerous. One might think that what a man thinks in his head is private, but in all actuality, it is not. Your face always betrays your thoughts, and you can't keep them secret, try though you might. There are those who can read faces like the pages of a book. The Red Room was filled to the brim with agents such as these. Therefore, when she began to contemplate these notions, she would force her mind onto other matters. But man is not always master of his mind, and occasionally Nika's own brain would disobey her and treacherously continue this line of thought; that she peruse the things she could accomplish if she were on her own. Just Nika: Servant of no one.
Patience was a pillars of the Red Room's regime. They claimed that those who did not hesitate to jump head-long into their impulsive plans and desires would soon be caught up in a web- one woven of their own folly. This meant, basically, that they were fond of making their students wait extremely long amounts of time for things which could have been provided almost instantly.
After another long hour, Nika heard the doorknob turn. She had been expecting another nurse (one who was, hopefully, bearing sustenance of some sort), so it was quite a surprise when the Head Mistress walked in. She was flanked by guards, though this was just a formality. Everyone knew that she could more than hold her own in a fight.
"Congratulations on completing our training program," The older woman began without preamble, as was her nature. "In a few hours time, you will be sent out on an important, and delicate, assignment. One that will determine your future with us. You are to be sent to America. You will be dropped off in Manhattan, New York, and from there you will make your way to the neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen. It is relevant now to inform you of your living relatives."
At this, Nika's curiosity was piqued. Relatives? Up to this point, she had been under the impression that her family was dead. That is what they had told her. So, they had lied. While it wasn't a surprising fact, it was relatively upsetting.
"You have two brothers who are currently residing in Hell's Kitchen. Their names are Anatoly and Vladimir Ranskahov."
Keeping her face cautiously blank, Nika felt her insides begin to twist in…excitement? Anticipation? She could not tell for sure, but it was a strong emotion, and one which she had not felt in a very long time. She had brothers.. she shouldn't be happy about this, she knew. They despised happiness here. Well, not precisely. But they tried to discourage it, because happy people do not make good assassins.
"Your mission," The Head Mistress went on, "once you are in the vicinity, is to track down these men. When you have done so, your orders are simple. Find the elder, Anatoly, and kill him."
Nika released a slow breath, trying to make it sound natural. In truth, it was anything but. Her heart was beating faster than she thought was normal, given the circumstances. Why was she reacting like this? She didn't even know this man.
"I see." She stated in a neutral tone. It was likely that the Head Mistress was not convinced by her calm facade, but she had to try. Her reaction could be a test in and of itself. The girls of the Red Room were expected to remain level-headed and emotionless at all times. Of course, they were only human, and thus these were traits which they constantly worked to keep under wraps.
"If you are to succeed and thrive in our organization, we need to know that you are truly one of us. You can prove this by relinquishing ties to your former family."
Difficult though this would be, Nika knew she had to prove herself. 'A job is a job,' She thought to herself. 'It doesn't matter who he is.'
Without missing a beat, she spoke up.
"When do I leave?"
She stood in a deserted alleyway in the grimy neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen. It was apparent now why they had chosen that name- it was indeed a rough part of town. It isn't the sort of place you would want to be walking through at night- unless, of course, you are a highly trained assassin, in which case it is unlikely that you will face any real problem.
However, there was a very real problem that faced Nika at the moment. She needed to complete her mission within a small time frame, and it seemed that these brothers were going to make it difficult for her. Finding them had been the easy part. After all, the criminal underground is well-connected, and the Russian mob's whereabouts are known and avoided by a good deal of the drug dealers in town.
She had located them much more quickly than her usual targets, and she had foolishly begun to think that the rest of the mission would be as simple. Not so. It appeared that the two brothers never left each other's sides, which was getting to be quite irritating. Her orders had been specific. It was imperative that Vladimir was kept alive, probably because the Red Room wanted to test her ability to maintain control over a situation, so Nika decided that attacking Anatoly while Vladimir was not there would ensure that the younger brother didn't die in the melee. She was going to wait for them to part ways, but from the look of things, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.
They had given her a small backpack with provisions- food, and the like. She ate a light snack when 12 hours passed. Another 8 or so went by, and she was still following them around, waiting for them to go their separate ways. Bored to death, she sorted through the items in her bag once more. There wasn't much to look at. A few packets of food for energy, a bottle of water, a roll of gauze, and a few other odds and ends. There were no weapons. She was supposed to carry this out with her bare hands, though for what purpose she could not discern. Tapping her feet and drumming her nervous fingers, she waited as the minutes rolled by and a sick, anxious feeling grew in her. She didn't know why she should feel this way. Hadn't she killed many others before this man? And to think of the ease with which she did! What made him so special? They may have been related by blood, but she didn't know him. She couldn't even remember him… for the most part. But there was always something at the back of her mind. A shadow of a memory, perhaps. A memory from such a long time ago, before she was in the service of the mercenaries who raised her. It was another lifetime.
Tiredly, Nika looked up from her vantage point. She had been silently tailing the brothers as best she could without being seen, and their current position had her sitting on a bench behind a parked car, watching them through its windows. But wait. What was this? They were leaving- in different directions! It took them long enough. She waited until they had gone a reasonable distance, and then stood up and casually strolled along the same route that Anatoly had taken.
It was time to finish her mission.
Treading on silent feet, Nika made her way through the crowded streets and dark corners of Hell's Kitchen, keeping a watchful eye on her brother- her target. The two words had become synonymous in her head, and it was a little unsettling.
Anatoly's path led him back to the taxi garage. She was going to make her move then, but he surprised her by exiting quickly and turning back- toward her. She had to backtrack quickly, so as not to run into him. Fearing that he had realized he was being followed, she sank into the shadow of a small business's awning. Anatoly came nearer and nearer still, seeming to the young girl to be looking heading straight for her. Then he passed her hiding spot, and she sighed in relief. She felt her chest loosen, not having noticed the constriction her panic had caused.
Mentally berating herself for getting so worked up, she reentered the street and searched for the back of Anatoly's head. Finding it to be much farther away than she would have expected, she picked up her pace and jogged for a few moments.
The path he was taking apparently led back to his place of residence- an apartment which was surprisingly nice, considering the neighborhood. This would be the hardest part of the chase. There was no one else going to the building, so she couldn't pretend to be with someone in order to disguise her entrance. He would most likely know the faces, if not the names, of all of the tenants, so if he saw her arrive it could be marked as suspicious. Though, she supposed it didn't matter much at this point. The only thing left to do was kill him, so his suspicion wouldn't do any harm, other than possibly taking away her element of surprise. She'd dealt with worse.
She entered shortly after he did. She had to put enough distance between them so that she could follow him through the building without alerting him of her presence. This is a difficult proceeding, as these types of buildings tended to be constructed of narrow hallways and a whole lot of sharp corners. Still, she wasn't inexperienced in this area, so she was able to handle it with relative ease, At least, it started out that way.
Everything was going smoothly, and she was getting a little smug at the thought that he hadn't noticed her yet. This feeling proved to be premature, as apparently her eldest brother was more perceptive than he let on.
Her original plan had been to track him right to his apartment and attack him there. That would be the simplest course of action because it was doubtful that anyone would be on the premises at this hour to hear the scuffle. She hoped that, it being early afternoon, everyone would be at work. There also would be no cleanup involved. She prided herself on her ability to carry out neat executions, but this way she wouldn't have to dispose of his body. She would simply leave him in his home, which would probably give her a good amount of time before he was found. As she had learned from experience, however, things rarely go according to plan.
She turned a corner only to find him standing there, waiting for her. He was leaning casually against the wall to show, she supposed, that he wasn't really concerned about her (a mistake in and of itself), but he was tense, ready for a fight.
"Why are you following me?" He asked in his thick accent.
She hesitated for a moment, considering what to do. They hadn't told her to anticipate conversation of any sort, and she had never come across anything like this in her previous missions. She ought to go straight to the point and just kill him, but she found it difficult to let an opportunity such as this pass by. What harm could a little small talk do, after all?
"Because I was sent to kill you." She opted to be brutally honest with him. He deserved that in his last moments, at least. She had used her Russian accent in speaking to him, letting him know that he was dealing with a fellow countryman. A few days ago, after they had told her of the assignment, she had played over a situation similar to this in her mind. But thinking about talking to him and actually doing so were two very different things, and she knew she was walking on thin ice. If they found out that she had conversed with her target… but they wouldn't. How could they? She was alone with him here. The Red Room was good, but not that good. Unless they were monitoring her. She decided to ignore that disconcerting thought and press on, for good or bad.
Anatoly smirked at her words, but when he realized that she was serious, his hardened gaze returned.
"Who sent you?" He hadn't moved from his position, so he obviously didn't really see her as a threat. And why should he? For all he knew, she was just a young girl. A decoy, perhaps. The thought must have occurred to him at the same time she thought it, because he took a quick glance over his shoulder.
Knowing full well that she was rebelling against the true purpose of her mission, to show that she had no emotional ties, she replied to him.
"A Russian organization, the name of which you may or may not have heard before. It is of little consequence, as you will soon be too dead to further pursue the matter."
He raised an eyebrow at this, and then stated in a slightly incredulous tone, "You truly think that you can overpower me."
Nika sighed. She was stalling, she knew, but a part of her was seriously considering telling him who she really was. 'It might not be such a bad thing,' She thought to herself. 'If he knows we are siblings, he may try to beg for mercy on those grounds. When I kill him despite his pleas, will not that show my strength to them?' Whether true or not, it was her justification, and it was all she needed.
"I know that I can," She said meekly. "I have been trained very thoroughly. Though it is unfortunate that I must kill you."
This was the truth. She felt rather sorry that her brother was about to die, and at her hands. She would be punished by her superiors for thinking this, but it would have been nice to have some semblance of a family. Not the sort of family that the Red Room claimed to be, who beat you if you were ever out of line, and always held you at arm's length, but a true family; one that laughed and cried with you, and protected you when you needed it. Then her thoughts turned bitter. 'If I want a family such as the one I have dreamed about, I should look elsewhere.' After all, where were her brothers when she needed them to help her, to protect her? The women of the Red Room may have been emotionally distant, but at least they were there. They raised her to be the strong person she was today and taught her to take care of herself. She did not need anyone to do that for her.
With that thought in her head, she attacked.
A/N: Hello, and thank you for reading Soul Meets Body! First off, it would be beneficial to let you know (especially if there are any returning readers) that I have edited the first three chapters into this one, and plan on taking the next three and combining them, as well (I did this because they are all exceedingly short, and I felt they worked better when placed together). I have also done some minor editing to the sentence structure, word choice, etc.
I did not change anything in regards to the actual story or plot.
Please, do inform me of your thoughts on this. Liked it? Didn't like it? I thrive on comments of any kind, and value honesty, so constructive criticism is heartily accepted.