He expected it to happen eventually.
He did not know when it would happen, where it would happen, or even if it would happen in a year or so—but he expected something to happen. He expected his newly-"adopted" girl to be bullied by her classmates the moment he had set foot on her rundown, high school campus. But how she would respond to such bullying, however, was something that caught 47 slightly off guard.
Regardless, the assassin is unsure of whether or not to blame himself for the recent misfortunes. He is unsure whether or not to be upset at the fifteen-year-old girl. 47 is unsure of a plethora of problems that manage to creep into his mind as he waits impatiently in the principal's office of Victoria's private high school. Taking custody of Victoria and raising her, it seems, has proved to be far more difficult than the assassin previously believed.
But despite 47's light sense of guilt, he secretly revels in his sweet success.
"Mister—uh," the secretary of the principal's office quickly views her clipboard. "Mr. Rieper, was it?"
"Yes, that's right," 47 fidgets slightly in his undersized chair. For the past ten minutes, the secretary had made awful attempts at forming a lasting conversation with him. Unbeknownst to her, the assassin merely wanted to see the principal, hear his or her complaints, and leave the rundown, forsaken high school forever.
"So, I take it Mrs. Rieper couldn't make it to the meeting," the blonde secretary with rows of cascading curls awkwardly smiles.
47 glares at her from across the small office.
"Or … is there a Mrs. Rieper?" she asks with now a full smile across her face.
47 sighs, "When did you say the principal will be seeing me again?"
"Oh—" the secretary's smile quickly fades once she realizes 47's disinterest in her. "Once she comes back from the nurse's office, you can talk to her ..."
47 mentally groans, feeling the blistering stare of the newly-fuming secretary. The assassin has no time to sit and chat to random people—he has a duty to do. He has to care for Victoria until she is old enough to care for herself. He has to make sure Diana's money ends up in the young adult's hands one day soon. After all, the assassin has places to go to and people to deal with—work never ends for the most desired assassin. Regardless if he is the reluctant caretaker of an individualistic, spunky teenager, 47 hates the idea of juggling two jobs.
He is an assassin during the night and a devoted caretaker of a fifteen-year-old by day. 47 never dares to leave the youth unattended in their rundown, dingy apartment in the worst part of London. There is too much risk involved in doing so, and as a result, 47's thoughts often wander to an imaginary, disappointed Diana should something happen to Victoria. Thus, the assassin sleeps during the day when Victoria is at school, escorts her home every day, and takes off in the night to finish some contracts.
But not today.
Of course, an assassin like 47 can never call in sick to work. But, today, he will not sleep or rest until tomorrow afternoon. Today, he spends his resting hours sitting in a principal's office. The assassin mentally frowns at such a thought. Pondering on this unusual encounter, 47 finds himself completely clueless on how to handle the situation at hand. Never in a million years would he have imagined himself in this position—waiting to talk to a principal because his adopted "daughter" decided to beat people up in her high school.
The sudden creaking of a door makes the assassin's heart thud viciously within his chest. The time has come. Without having to fully turn his head to the opening door, 47 catches a glimpse of Victoria from the corner of his left eye. She shamefully tiptoes into the principal's office, refusing to turn her damage cheek to 47. Behind her, the principal holds the girl by her shoulders, leading her to seclusion from the bustling hallway.
"Ah, you must be Mr. Rieper!" the principal nods in the assassin's direction. "No worries, your daughter is just fine. The nurse had a look at her."
The fifteen-year-old, still refusing to face the assassin, flings her straight hair forward in an attempt to cover her face. She slowly walks towards a chair farthest away from 47. The assassin's heart continues to pound viciously against his ribcage. What has happened to Victoria?
Quickly and skillfully, 47 extends a gloved hand to a hesitant Victoria and drags her closer to him. She struggles under his strong tug. The assassin then places a firm grip on Victoria's chin, lifting her face and forcing her to make direct eye contact with him. Regardless of 47's unnatural strength, Victoria's emerald eyes fling to the faded, white tile of the floor. She would not give him the respect of staring at him.
"No," 47 finally voices his frustration with the rebellious teenager. The sudden command seemed lifeless to the teenager—between its harshness, there lies no trace of emotion. "Look at me."
The strain in his voice causes Victoria to slightly shudder in unusual fear. Never has 47 spoken so abruptly and harshly to her. Realizing this, her gaze shifts to the misty, blue eyes of the bald man before her. His grip on her chin increasingly tightens as he fully grasps the damage on Victoria's face. Beneath her right eye, a sour, purple bruise begins to swell, causing her lower lid to puff up. The bottom of her plump, pink lips is tinting into a deep shade of crimson—her slight pout becomes slightly more profound as light tears form in her damaged eye.
"I'm alright—really!" Victoria tries to calm her nerves as her cheeks flush a light pink. She did not enjoy being scrutinized by the assassin.
"Apparently, you're far from okay. Look at your—"
The young girl suddenly slaps 47's hand away from her face in complete bitterness.
"I'm fine …" she groans.
47 and Victoria glare at each other for a few seconds before the principal taps the assassin on his shoulder.
"Mr. Rieper, let's go to the meeting room, shall we?" Suddenly, the principal points at the secretary to continue working at her desk, and then, the three people move into the adjacent room interconnected with the principal's main office. 47 steps through the door last and shuts the it happily, glad to finally remove himself from the same room as the nosy secretary.
In the meeting room, a large, circular table is placed in the center of it. The walls are white—plain, boring. The floor is white—plain, boring. The glossy table is littered with old, disposable coffee cups whose rims are tainted by faded, chunky lipstick.
"Sorry about this mess! We had a meeting earlier today!" The principal giggles softly, but 47 knew better. No one has been having meetings in this office for a very long time. Anyone else would have not minded the mess, but to someone with high tastes like the assassin, the disgusting room slightly bothered him. Still, the most annoying thing about the principal is her little lies. 47 sighs to himself as he knocks over a few of the littered coffee cups after finding a seat farthest away from the door. Victoria, still in a rebellious mood, sat right next to the principal and the farthest away from 47.
"Victoria, dear, can you tell your father what happened today?" the principal clears her throat awkwardly.
"I got into a fight," Victoria stares at her hands resting on her lap. She fiddles with the hem of her skirt.
"And why did you get into a fight?"
"Because a group of boys were picking on me."
"Why were they picking on you?"
"Because I told them to stop picking on this other girl who never fought back."
"And why didn't you come to tell me about this?"
"Because it's none of your business."
The principal gasps bitterly, "What? What do you mean it's none of my business, young lady?"
"Last time I asked for your help, you gave me detention!" Victoria blurts out, and a solitary tear struggles to glide down her bruised, bumpy cheek. "You don't care whether I suffer here or not!"
"That is not true!"
"It is true! It is!"
Both the fifteen-year-old and the principal turn to view the silent, bald man sitting slightly hunched over in his seat. While the assassin has been trained to deal with any surprises, this event certainly has caught 47 off guard. He simply clears his throat as his eyes continue to scan the bruised face of Victoria.
"When and why did you receive detention?" the assassin awkwardly whispers, feeling a strange, overwhelming humidity suddenly overtake him.
"Because the kids I fight are rich, and their parents are very important people!" Victoria weeps, and she thrusts her hands towards the principal. "I can't take this school's politics! This woman doesn't do anything because she's friends with their parents!"
47, feeling overwhelmed at Victoria's sudden burst of anger, turns his head slightly to view the principal, whose cheeks begin to fade from a soft rose to a pasty, milk color.
The principal clears her throat, "That's enough, young lady. You earned detention because you started a fight—"
"I was being bullied …" Victoria groans, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. She grimaces at the slightest touch to her bruised face.
"And I warned you of what would happen if you tried again!" the principal slams her hand against the table. "You just needed to report it, okay?"
Victoria sighs in response. There would be no winning against the principal today, tomorrow, or ever. She slides down in her seat and crosses her legs in bitter hatred, feeling defeat. Still, her eyes never meet the assassin's—her shame is great.
"Why was I not notified of this problem the first time?" 47 frowns as he subtly glares at the principal.
The principal smirks lightly. "I can handle your daughter by myself, sir. I assure you."
"I never asked for your help," the assassin dryly retorts. "Handling Victoria is my job—not yours."
The principal, now fuming, simply shudders in her seat and looks away from the man sitting before her. Victoria lightly sniffles, and the assassin simply continues to glare at the principal. For, after all, what did some random woman who has known Victoria for a mere three months know about anything? Was the principal there a year ago to save the girl from kidnapping? What did the principal care for a random transfer student who has never been in London before? What did the principal care for a young girl who had no real family other than a surprisingly mysterious adoptive caretaker?
Still, what can one do? 47 realizes how important an education for Victoria is. She is a freshman in high school. She cannot simply drop out no matter how difficult of a time she is experiencing at the hands of terrible people. The assassin begins to mentally weigh the pros and cons of the situation at hand. Education is important. It is very important for a girl who came from nothing and still has nothing.
"Do you fail to understand the seriousness of the situation, sir?" the principal blurts out, her cheeks reddening with each word that passes her lips. "Do you?"
"Of course I underst—" 47 does not raise his voice despite his boiling anger.
"Miss Victoria took on four boys in a fight with knives, sir! Knives! Besides that, she broke one boy's arm and the nose of another!"
"I did what I had to do!" Victoria croaks.
"Girl, there are a variety of other things you could have done! You could have come to the office—you could have talked to me!" the woman sighs heavily, now rubbing her temples.
"I see—" the assassin whispers. Truly, there is no way to win against a woman with severe anger issues who finds no fault in herself.
"And if you can handle this situation, sir, what should we do to punish Victoria?"
"Well, what do you have in mind?" 47 finally caves in. Victoria has to stay in school no matter what—unfair but necessary.
"I'll have to give her detention for the rest of the semester but only because she was being bullied, and the boys confessed to it. Otherwise, I'd have to expel her and maybe send her to some delinquent program. Still, parents are very angry. Victoria, you got off lucky this time!"
"Detention is fine," 47 states, refusing to stare at the possibly fussy and shocked girl in front of him.
The principal nods in agreement, rises from her seat, and storms out of her office, shutting the door behind her. If anything, the assassin realizes Victoria will only have more trouble to deal with once he leaves campus. The principal hates him now and will stop at nothing to make the fifteen-year-old miserable.
"I can't believe I get detention for doing what's right—" Victoria sniffles. "Why would you let her give me even more when nothing is my fault?"
The assassin slowly lifts himself from the uncomfortable chair. "You'll thank me in three years when you graduate and get accepted to a university. Be grateful you are not going to some juvenile delinquent program."
"But it's not fair!" the young girl croaks again, feeling more miserable.
"Nothing is fair. You just have to deal with these problems the best way you can," 47 states.
Although furious at the assassin's words, Victoria buries her face into her hands and groans. The edges of 47's lips curl slightly upwards at sight of the frustrated girl. Still staring blankly at the littered table before him, the assassin silently relishes his success.
"Knives, huh?" the assassin smirks.
"They—they got the first punch, and—" Victoria croaks, still fearful of what 47 thinks of her bruised face. "I didn't want to fight. I didn't want to kill anyone, but they pulled out knives—I tried. I really, really, really tried. I did what I had to in order not to die myself …"
"And how did the fight end? Did they run away?"
"All of them ran after I broke one boy's nose, why?" Victoria's emerald eyes finally make contact with the cold, blue stare of 47. She is taken aback by the slight smile on the emotionless man's face.
As quickly as it had come, the assassin's smile had disappeared. He whispers a brief, "just wondering" to the curious girl and faces the door. It is time for him to leave before his next "assignment" of the day—his actual work that feeds both him and Victoria.
With proper mental and physical training, 47 realizes, Victoria knows how to properly defend herself. Instead of acting up under pressure, she handled the situation in a logical manner. Sure, she broke a few bones, but she was able to properly defend herself without losing complete control. For the past few months since Diana's death, the assassin had trained her for such a moment. Although the training was never quite extensive, it seems the girl caught on quick and remembered everything 47 had told her to do should such an event arise. And the assassin's most important advice to a pure girl like Victoria was this, "never kill."
For, a girl as sweet and innocent as Victoria should never have to be burdened or tainted by the death of another human being so early in age. Had 47 such a choice when he was her age, he believes his life would be different.
It would be very different …
"I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble," Victoria sighs. "And I'm sorry I slapped your hand earlier. I know you were trying to help, I just—"
"No worries. You did what you had to."
"Can we please leave London, though? Please?" she pleads desperately, finally rising from her chair and walking slowly around the table towards her caretaker.
"Yes—work is taking me elsewhere for a few months, anyway," 47 lies. He can relocate anytime he wants. Being the most wanted assassin, works takes him anywhere. "No need to stay here any longer."
And with that, the teen sighs heavily—gratefulness tearing away at her seams of hatred. God had answered the fifteen-year-old's prayer.
"Thank you," Victoria sniffles.
The tips of her pale fingertips try to slip around the assassin's arm before he quickly fidgets away from her, effectively creating a distance between them. Victoria's attempts to grab his arm and pull him closer to her resulted in failure. If anything, the girl simply wanted to hug him as a token of her gratitude. To which, 47 does not approve of. Still, he understands the inner sadness this causes Victoria, and he simply shrugs in response.
"No problem," 47 sighs, finally placing his hand on the door's handle and exiting the meeting room first.
And in Heaven, 47 knew his former handler was laughing at him—laughing at how he cannot seem to handle a rebellious yet affectionate fifteen-year-old girl. And in the back of his mind, the day's events keep replaying. The whole ordeal is almost unbelievable.
Surely, 47 thinks to himself, a whole lifetime of training and working as an assassin would have prepared me enough to face all the surprises a teenager could create, right?
Right?