The Beginning
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147
Victoria sits next to a family she does not recognize. The funeral is unusually small, but she understands that is to be expected. Living a life like Diana's meant complete secrecy. She understands the reasoning behind the secretive funeral, and in the coffin only a few feet before her, Victoria sees a woman she does not recognize. Her only friend in the world, Diana, finally rests eternally. But Diana's body is different. The cancer had eaten her alive in only a year, leaving nothing behind but skin and bones. A year ago, not even a bullet could kill Diana from that mysterious man who saved Victoria. The young fifteen year old wanted to believe her only friend in the world was immortal, for she loathed being alone.
She stares at the plush, red carpet around the open coffin. Victoria does not like anything about this ceremony—she holds her breath as her stomach churns in displeasure. Immediately taking this as a sign from God to leave, she lifts herself from the cushioned chair and looks around for the nearest exit. Her knees buckle immediately after taking the first step towards the closed door on the right side of the scarce, white room. Victoria's vision blurs and her head swirls viciously. She thrusts her body towards the door, feeling closer to freedom. Upon reaching the handle, she yanks open the door and collapses into the hallway. Her bedroom was still a long way off, but Victoria did not have the strength to lift herself from the floor of misery. She slightly raises her head, hoping to see a guard who would happily help her back to her room.
The secretive funeral is being held in one of the back rooms of Diana's mansion, but to Victoria, having such a ceremony in the mansion was a terrible idea. She didn't want to walk the mansion halls thinking of her lost friend—her lost savior from a terrible life. Victoria still kneels on the floor, unsure of what to do. Tears cling to the tips of her eyelashes, and suddenly, she gasps as she is being tugged from the hallway's marble floor. She immediately recognizes the familiar black, leather gloves which were clenching the long, beige sleeves of her uncomfortable dress into a bundle. Victoria's eyes fling from the floor to the man's face, and she immediately stares into vivid, blue eyes. She recognizes the man who saved her life barely over a year ago, but his features begin to blur and distort as sorrow takes control of her ability to speak and see. Victoria's icy tears sting beneath her eyelids, and the swelling of them make her look as if she suffered from severe allergies. Eventually, such heavy tears escape their prison and race down her warm, pale cheeks. Victoria throws her arms around agent 47's neck while beginning to sob.
"She—she's—" Victoria mutters. Her words are barely audible as she continues to bury her face into 47's shoulder. "Diana's dead—"
"I know," the assassin responds casually, showing no signs of grief at losing his handler.
"S—she was my only friend!" The young girl sniffles and rubs her now swollen eyes on the back of her hand. "What do I do now? W-where am I supposed to go?"
47 sighs, "I'm sure something will be arranged for you. Diana wouldn't have left you out of her will."
The complete emotional detachment present within the assassin's voice only makes Victoria feel more uncomfortable and anxious. She tries to calm herself, but her heart slams against her ribcage, causing her to feel faint. Almost expecting this, 47 places a firm hand on Victoria's shoulder. He leads her to the nearest door in the hallway right next to the room where Diana's body is placed. Such thoughts of a lifeless corpse cause Victoria's stomach to churn with nerves again. 47 opens the glossy, oak door and leads the fifteen year old girl to the nearest sofa within. She collapses into the expensive, leather cushions and listens to them squeak in agony as her body makes contact with them.
"Who do I talk to about Diana's will?" Victoria asks. Her voice is barely audible over the way she shuffles in her seat as she tries to get comfortable. She never did approve of the lousy seating within the library.
"Stay here—" the assassin whispers, turning his back to the young teen. "I'll go look for Diana's lawyer. He's probably near the funeral room …"
As 47 walks to the door, Victoria's eyes fling back and forth to the different bookshelves located around the library. For over a year, she has spent all of her waking moments in the library reading novels, magazines, or anything she could get her hands on. Not having any friends as she was homeschooled, Victoria enjoyed keeping her mind occupied with the imaginary beings and situations found within books. Her eyes linger towards the ceiling of the library—her favorite feature of the whole room.
Above her, painted freckles of yellow and white stars are highlighted by the deep blue and black paint of the background. Her eyes linger for a few minutes on the painted Heavens above her—did Diana become a star when she died? Did she become a beautiful, small, glowing flicker of light among a mass of blackness—of lost hope?
Such questioning causes ache in the young girl's heart. Weakly, her eyes now linger back to the vast bookshelves which she loves dearly. And every so often, Victoria finds herself reciting famous lines from her favorite Shakespearean plays. Her emerald eyes meet with the tattered binding of The Collection of the Works of Shakespeare, and immediately, her favorite line from Romeo and Juliet comes to mind:
" …and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars …" Victoria murmurs quickly, fearful of being overheard. "And he will make the face of Heaven so fine … that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun!"
The young girl shivers slightly in shock upon hearing the oak door creak loudly. The assassin has returned with a short, plump man wearing a navy blue suit with tacky, fading gold rings around his stubby fingers. Victoria slightly grimaces but tries her best to hide it. Is this waddling man truly Diana's highly professional and most trusted lawyer? To Victoria, he seems like the type of lawyer one would find working with mafia crime lords, and at such a thought, she slightly chuckles immediately.
"Ah, lovely miss Victoria!" the short man exclaims proudly. His husky voice possibly reveals years of smoking cigars. "We finally meet! I have heard much of you from Diana! She said you were quite the bright one!"
The lawyer plops into a chair directly across from Victoria. The young girl sinks sadly into the couch. If she could somewhat disappear under the cushions, she would do so immediately. Unfortunately, she had to sit uncomfortably near a man she did not trust. Her future was, unfortunately, in his hands.
Feeling the intensity of the situation from both the assassin and Victoria, the lawyer clears his throat, "Well, let's get straight into it then …"
The lawyer awkwardly shuffles in his seat before taking out a paper folded within his suit's pocket. He clears his throat once more and silently reads the paper.
"In terms of inheritance, Burnwood left you quite a hefty sum of money. And by hefty, I mean HEFTY!" he exclaims as a thin smile forms from cheek to cheek. "But—there is a restriction on it …"
47, although not very interested in the legal matters, felt a sudden volt of confusion. "Restriction?"
"Yes—well, you see, Victoria—you're fifteen, correct?"
The girl nods approvingly in response.
"To be of age—eighteen, of course—is when you would be able to legally obtain the money." the lawyer frowns. "Until then, there is little anyone can do for you."
"How so?" Victoria cries out. Her emerald gems glaze over with tears.
"This mansion, as stated in the will, is to be sold. And from what I understand, you don't have anywhere else you can stay, correct?" the lawyer's eyes linger to the floor. Such difficult matters are hard to discuss when a fifteen year old girl is beginning to cry. "Look on the bright side; you can stay here until the mansion is sold, but …"
"Where will she go?" 47's icy words pierced both the lawyer and Victoria unexpectedly. Although the assassin already knew of the girl's fate, he certainly had to make sure if the lawyer had the same idea.
"Well—it says here that living arrangements weren't made for Victoria, actually," the lawyer continues to read through the will. "In fact, Miss Burnwood probably didn't plan on dying so abruptly. Thus, she probably imagined the girl would be an adult by the time she died."
The young girl's heart plummets to her feet. 47 notices the crème color of her cheeks fade into a dull white.
Victoria's lips tremble. "So, now what? What do I do?"
"Well—" the elderly man sighs, removing his glasses. "I see two options. One—you can spend your last three years before adulthood in a foster home. Or, two—you can go to an orphanage. Either way, we will keep tabs on you in order to make sure you get your money when you come of age."
"But—" Victoria slightly chokes back a sob. "But I don't want to go to an orphanage! And I don't want to go to a foster home, either!"
The lawyer continues, "Well, I don't see another choice. Besides, you only have to stay there for three years until you are able to move out and do whatever you want. It's simple, really!"
"Can't I just access the money now to find a nice apartment somewhere?" she sniffles, feeling an incredible pain in her chest. "All I need would be about two hundred dollars a month—"
"I can't disburse any money. I'm not in charge of that."
Victoria buries her face in the palms of her hands. Thoughts of despair run rampant in the dark abyss of her mind.
"What if—" she whispers, feeling calmness overtake her upon devising a possibly brilliant plan. "What if I go to a college preparatory or boarding school? Some schools have dorms on campus I can stay at all semester. I can probably even stay there for the holidays!"
"No, that certainly won't work although it is a great idea," the lawyer smacks his lips.
"What? How is it not a good idea?" she groans.
"The cost of attendance for that type of education is far pricier than a local private school!"
Victoria buries her face in the sweaty palms of her hands—any terrible fate would still be better than living in an orphanage alone and unwanted. 47, witnessing the teen's distress, did not remotely feel upset by the unsettling news of the lawyer. A twinge of pain, however, spreads across his eyebrows and squinted eyes. True to the lawyer's words, Diana did not expect to die so suddenly, and 47 has no idea of what to make of this discovery. Diana was a woman who perfectly planned everything to the tiniest details. To have her die by surprise seems very unfitting and a terrible mistake. The assassin, although slightly disappointed in this realization, did not want his thoughts to linger on the subject.
Still, his handler had risked everything to protect the fifteen-year-old girl who now cries silently on the couch. In her watery gems, 47 caught a glimpse of himself in his expensive suit and tie. For a second, he could imagine Victoria in his position—a skilled, well-paid assassin. But she is still a girl—just a girl who will be forced to live a lonely three to four years in an orphanage filled with anger, depression, and with a sense of abandonment. A girl who might one day use her troubled past to become a trained killer. A girl with a natural ability to fight. A not-so-normal fifteen year old girl sent to live alone in an orphanage. Alone in depression. An angry Victoria—a girl who would be angry enough to willingly follow in the footsteps of 47 one day when she would be old enough to do so. Victoria, an assassin—something Diana fought hard to prevent.
Before he even had a chance to understand his thoughts, 47 faced the lawyer and asked, "Sir, may I have a word with you?"
The lawyer nodded awkwardly, moving away from the weeping teenager. The girl certainly had plenty of issues to deal with. Firstly, her only friend died. Secondly, she was destined to become abandoned.
"Say—" 47 clears his throat, unsure of how to unscramble a group of words floating in the back of his mind. "Let's just imagine. Let's say someone wants to adopt her—how would this person go about doing so?"
"Well—it's just a matter of filling out paperwork, and yes—yes, of course—the said person has to wait for the paperwork to be approved."
"How long?"
"Sadly, the process is very long. Not too much, but still quite significant. I'd say six or seven months—maybe a year or so. Not everyone is lucky with this sort of thing. A lot of couples are turned down because—"
"I see," 47 states, effectively cutting off the lawyer. He already heard everything necessary for him to make a decision.
"Victoria, however, will be able to stay in this house until it is sold," the lawyer clears his throat. "It also seems Miss Burnwood paid the housekeeping staff and guards a month in advance. So, the girl will be well cared for until the house is sold and the workers earn their last paycheck."
47 nods slowly, unsure of what to make of his former handler's actions. He finds it almost hard to believe someone would pay employees in advance. Is it possible Diana knew Victoria would need adult supervision until proper arrangements were to be made? The assassin's eyes roam the library in confusion. Understanding that the bald man was unwilling to further communicate with him, the stout, short lawyer fidgets awkwardly in his creaking chair.
"If it is of any consolation …" the lawyer whispers. He avoids any eye contact with the curious teenager sitting near him on a couch. "I can put in a good word for you to speed up the adoption process. It is clear to me how much the girl meant to Miss Burnwood, and it seems you care for her just—never mind that. I'm just being silly. It's just a shame Burnwood died so—"
Before mentioning anything about death or cancer, the lawyer cut his sentence off. He did not wish to further depress Victoria and make her cry again. The lawyer feels 47's and Victoria's cold stares pierce his strained, worn face. Taking the awkward silence in the room as a sign to leave, the round man pushes himself away from the table littered with maps and history books.
"Please, excuse me. I have a call to make …" the stout man waddles to the door.
Upon reaching the glossy, oak beauty, he opens it in one swift motion and immediately disappears behind it. 47 and Victoria listen intently to the clicking of the man's shoes against the marble flooring of the hallway. Judging by the sound of the lawyer's steps, 47 realizes he simply walked down the hall back to the funeral room. The assassin continues to study the dust shelves of the library around him. The amount of books within the medium sized room is astounding, and the assassin stands in awe of the place around him. He wonders if Diana ever had time to leisurely read outside her job.
But it is foolish to ponder on Diana's tastes when she no longer existed. 47, upon remembering the issue he has to address, turns around and stares at the young teen sitting hopelessly on the couch. Victoria stares back at him—her gems seek an answer in the assassin's unreadable, pale face. His vivid, blue eyes are empty—they do not reflect the stars painted above them in the library. They do not reflect the amazing kindness and beauty Diana often depicted them to be.
"Pack your things," 47 whispers suddenly. "We're leaving tonight."
She frowns. "Aren't you going to file for adoption?"
"No need to. They won't find you where we're going."
The assassin delicately unfolds an ancient looking map of the world. He becomes distracted by particles of dust which dance in golden streams of sunlight coming from the open window. Everything in the enormous library was covered with dust, and even more so, the books which were neatly aligned among the shelves were incredibly tattered. The assassin, unknowing of Victoria's love for books, imagines that Diana must have done quite a bit of reading in her free time if she had any. 47's gloved fingers trace the map's indentions.
"Where are we going?" She asks, still frowning but now full of curiosity.
Victoria fiddles with a loose string of her skirt and is unsure of what to do. She loves the mansion, but of course, she cannot stay in a house which is to be sold in a few months. Even more so, she doesn't have the money to purchase it herself. While Diana may have left her a good sum of money, she would not be able to access it until she turns into an adult.
"Thank you—you know, for what you're doing. Thanks."
47's blue eyes linger slowly from the map to meet Victoria's emerald eyes. She smiles widely, and a solitary tear dances down her crème colored cheek. The assassin sighs while still studying the map.
Certainly, it was going to be a hard and interesting three years …