A/N: Usual disclaimer, I own nothing, the story isn't for kiddies, blah, blah, blah... you know what you're reading.
Any errors in regard to grammar or continuity are my own, the story is currently unbeta'd.
Chapter 2 – Blondie and Bargains
Epov
Present day
Wow, not my best moment… pistol whipped, and not by some fuckhot dude (though Jasper certainly fit that bill) I got taken down by a chick that probably weighs about 110, tops… Well, regardless, the kiss was definitely worth it, and the way Jasper responded, perhaps I'd get another shot. Now personal inventory: I feel fine, except for that exceptionally nasty splitting headache from aforementioned pistol whippage. I'm alive, which is never a given in my line of work. I don't feel any electrodes or spikes, so either I'm paralyzed or they haven't set in with the interesting equipment yet. Hands are still bound, but not so tightly that the blood flow is cut off (of course, a doctor is gonna care more about that than a thug, so once again, Jasper = huge plus). Not much more I can tell with my eyes still closed.
I open my eyes and immediately regret it. I'm in a prison cell; that much is plain. It seems to be one of the public-humiliation-over-private-degradation styles, complete with bars and an audience. Blondie is outside, chewing gum, fiddling with her pistol, and generally sporting a disgustingly smug demeanor. There's some other dude too, but Blondie is front and center.
I wonder how much time has gone by.. maybe I should ask.
"6 hours" Blondie answers the question still rolling around on the back of my tongue, waiting to be asked, "You mutter in your sleep, did you know that? Who the fuck is Jack?" She pops her gum and continues to fiddle with her firearm, leaning her chair back until it's balanced on two feet. I hope it falls over.
"Please, I need to talk to your boss, right away." I try a charming smile, and she ignores me.
"Well? Jack?" Blondie doesn't seem like she's going to listen to anything I say, so I don't talk for a minute. She shrugs and goes back to her gun cleaning. I think about Jack.
8 years ago
14 years old, and doomed to never have a life. I wish my mother would just lose interest all ready. I've lived with her for two years, guess how many days of holiday I've had? Zero.. That's right, no holiday for Edward. At least with Frank there were moments of drunken stupor, whole summers when I only had curfew, Victoria is absolutely the worst. I don't think it would matter as much if I were straight, after all, it's not like I don't have options here. There are 3 other kids that live in the manor, but fuck, the two I can have I don't want, and the one I want, I can't have. Jack.
So, things I know for sure about the Volturi, the guys my mom works for.
They don't let children be children, I've been working 12 hour days for the last 2 years learning languages and martial arts. I've learned to disassemble and reassemble about 30 different types of gun. I can fight proficiently with a sword, and I'm the top knife wielder among the trainees (many of whom are almost 20), I can also concoct a variety of poisons and toxins using common plants. I can construct explosives, I can disarm anything I can build (and some bombs that they won't let me build yet), and I am also the top of my class in covert tactics (I can blend into social settings really well)
They don't allow any sort of religious beliefs, any sexual deviance (including, but not limited to homosexuality), and they vehemently uphold a Nazi-esque type of racism (thank God for my years in school with Frank, at least I know what's what as far as radical bullshit)
They keep their operatives under 24 hour surveillance during their training (which in my case will last until either I'm 20, or until I pass some "final test" that Victoria says should be a breeze)
They're involved in highly illegal operations in at least 3 countries that I know of, and I'm sure there are more, they especially like political assassinations, gun running, and drug distribution. Money laundering goes hand in hand.
Fuck I want to be normal. If I were normal, not attached to some bizarre organized crime cult, maybe I'd be around some other kids, maybe I'd be able to make a move on a boy without someone killing me for it. Jack is perfect. Jack is the best hand-to-hand fighter of the trainees, he's 16, and every time he and I spar, I'm floored, literally, by his skill. Mostly he pins me in about 30 seconds, though recently I've been able to hold out for almost a minute. I think one reason he always pins me is that he's the most distracting person on base. He has slightly wavy blond hair and grey-blue eyes with thick lashes, his eyebrows are dark and straight, his nose is slightly large for his face, but it fits him, his mouth… oh god I've wanted to kiss him since I first saw him.
His parents were Volturi, but they were "murdered" by "evil" Sanctum last year, I'm not sure I believe half the bullshit Victoria says, but Jack eats it up. I'm sure he's sleeping with both Hanna and Sarah, the other two teens on base. You'd think he'd be more discreet about it, but I suppose he knows someone's always watching surveillance footage anyway, so it's not like it would be secret. Besides, heterosexual relationships are encouraged by the powers that be, I'm not sure what that means in terms of surveillance, but though the Volturi are obviously aware of Jack's activities, they would never do anything but encourage them.
Sigh, last month, he pinned me, and leaned in close to tease me about being easy, a drop of sweat beaded at the end of his nose, and I felt myself stiffen in my pants as it taunted me, I wanted to reach up and pull him into a kiss, I wanted to lick the bead off his nose, lick his neck, taste his flesh, anything, I freaked when I realized I'd popped a boner and shoved him away, cussing him out. Fuck I want to get laid, I want to have what Jack has, dammit, I want to be a normal boy, with a normal life, fuck Victoria.
I know why she wants me here, too, she's hoping I'll follow in her footsteps. James is absolutely shit at most of his lessons. He's pretty good at combat, but he's a fucking disaster at comportment, he can only speak English (and even that is a struggle). If it weren't for him being shit as a prospective agent, I don't think Victoria would bother with me, there's something weird between the two of us. It's like she doesn't trust me, or expects me to fail as a Volturi (not that I'd mind failing, if I could get away and live my life, I wouldn't give it another thought). For now, I have to keep to myself. Fuck the Volturi and their bigoted fucking stereotypes. Fuck the lack of holiday. Fuck tests. Fuck James. Fuck Victoria. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking Fuck.
Present Day
I start when she starts bouncing the rubber ball. I didn't expect the gun to last long, but this is just sad. I guess the interrogation strategy here is bore-the-prisoner-to-tears. I try a different tack, assuming that the mysterious approach won't work.
"I have information about Volturi operations to give to your boss." I offer.
She looks at me with one eyebrow raised, then starts laughing her ass off, "Please, spare me," she gasps through fits of hysteria, "You sound like a double agent in a Bond film, next you'll tell me your name is Pussy Galore."
"Honey Rider is more apt," I blurt, thinking of Jasper. She chokes on her laughter and her eyes go wide.
"Well, I don't know what I expected as far as a comeback, but it certainly wasn't that." She eyes me speculatively for a moment, then shakes her head, "Sorry, the whole charming routine isn't gonna cut it for me, Jasper told me you were here to assassinate my boss, so until I'm convinced you aren't a threat, you aren't getting anywhere near her." Her? That I was not expecting. Visions of Victoria spring unbidden into my mind and I cringe reflexively. Surely the leader of Sanctum isn't a frigid bitch like her.
"So, tell me, Honey, why that particular name?" Blondie is smiling wickedly at me, and I sigh inwardly, of course she would latch on to that bit of word vomit.
7 years, 10 months ago
I came this fucking close to kissing Jack today in the lockers. Fucker pinned me up to a locker in only a towel, he's seriously cut and his developing chest glistened in the steaming room. I think he and James might have experimented together, though now that James has discovered his cock, he's been sticking it in whatever will let him. I walked in on them, and they freaked, though. I didn't see anything, but they were on James' bed and when Jack walked out a couple minutes later, I think he was blushing. God why would Jack wank off with James. James is practically a mutant, and Jack is so perfect.
Anyway, Jack pins me up against the lockers and warns me never to tell anyone about what I saw in James' bedroom. I'm not sure why he thinks he's stealthy, since I know for a fact that there are cameras in every room in this god-forsaken complex. As I feel his arm pushing up against my neck, and his breath hot on my face, my whole body tenses, I've never been more thankful for underwear, since without it, my erection would poke Jack in the stomach, and he would lose it.
"Fuck, Jack, I don't care what the fuck you do on your own time, man." I say, desperate to keep fear or worse, lust out of my voice. "Fucking Volturi and their rules piss me off anyway. And I'd never do that to you, you're my only mate in this place."
He nods once, strings of his hair flop into his face, and he grins, I fight the urge to reach a hand up and brush the hair out of his eyes. I fight against my traitor body, reacting to Jack's proximity. Fucking Volturi. If I could kiss Jack without them knowing, I fucking would, even if he is straight, which I think he is. He obviously experimented with James, and I fucking want to be that. I want his hand on my cock, mine on his. I want to stroke him until he loses control. I want to take him into my mouth, I want him to fill me and thrust, and thrust.. and thrust.
6 months later
Jack turns 17 today, his birthday is only a month after mine, Volturi don't celebrate birthdays, it's too self-centered, according to their bullshit. I think they just want us to have as little normalcy as they can. The only reason I know it's his birthday is that I used my newfound hacking skills to access the least secure servers and look up the trainee personnel files. Jack Aborneth turning 17, he lost his parents when he was 15, he ranks first in hand-to-hand combat and in language skills, he ranks second in knife skills, and is in the top 4 of all his other skills, in short, he is a golden boy, and don't I know it.
The Volturi commend and encourage competition, and I've been practicing my hand-to-hand moves particularly hard, I've also been holding back in sparring bouts with Jack, since I want to surprise him when we fight today. He'll never forget this birthday, that I promise.
Since those of us who have been around for 2 years or more can choose the order of our training, I approach Jack as soon as we get to the training yards, "Hey, Jack, want to spar with me today? I've been practicing some new moves, I might just have you this time,"
"Sure Ed," he replies, confident smirk on his face, he swaggers to the ring and strips off his shirt in anticipation of our bout, I almost groan as I quickly memorize the lines of his bare back, down to the low slung sweats tied about his waist. His sweats hug his ass as he walks to the middle of the ring. Realizing I'm drooling at him, rather than preparing for the bout, I quickly scramble to my corner and doff my shirt as well. He takes my tardiness for trepidation, "Don't worry, Ed, I won't hurt you… too much." He grins at me, then he glances at my chest, "You're filling out pretty well, Ed, keep up the workouts and you might get into Sarah's pants yet." I've been awkwardly trying to flirt with Sarah ever since James commented loudly that I must be a fag or I'd have "tapped one of the bitches" already. Little does Jack know that I've actually been stalling with Sarah, claiming that I'm not ready, because I'm actually not interested at all. Fucking James. If I'd known how effective my fake flirting would be, I never would have fucking done it. Focus, Masen. I need to have all my wits gathered if I want to take down Jack. It's true that I have some surprises he certainly won't expect, but he's still top ranked, which means he almost always takes down trainees that are up to three years older than him (I recently learned why 20 is the cutoff for trainees, it turns out that if you don't pass your test by 20, you don't become an agent, you just become a liability)
Jack wraps his hands in bandages as I do the same, then he crouches into a fighter's stance, feet squarely planted, hands raised. I take a moment to gather myself then do likewise. The trainer gives us the signal to start and we carefully begin circling each other. I know he will take advantage of the few inches and several pounds of muscle he has on me if I get to close, so I wait for him to make the first move. He lunges at me, feinting right while reserving most of his momentum to attempt a grab when I dodge left, but I notice the feint and stick right instead, bringing up my wrist to block his now weakened lunge, I shove his arm away with mine and bring my right knee up, flicking a kick at his upper thigh while he stumbles briefly. I catch him right on the muscle, but by this time he has recovered from the failed feint, and though he gasps at the pain in his leg, he catches my foot in one of his hands. I launch myself from the ground, climbing his hand as I kick toward his shoulder with my left leg. He curses as the kick connects, stunning his fight arm, and I use his head as a further launch pad, bracing my body with both hands as I jump over him. I shove hard with both hands, pushing his body away from me as I carefully leap down behind him. I swing around just as he does and I see his expression has turned from smug superiority to confusion and wariness.
"Fuck, Ed, where did that come from? That's fucking impressive!" He crouches again, I can see he slightly favors his right leg, as his left is still hurting from the earlier kick, and his right hand is not quite as high as it would normally be. I don't wait for him this time, I bound toward him, and just as his hands reach for me, I drop down onto my back, swinging both legs at his while my momentum carries me along the ground toward him. I see his eyes widen in shock as my feet connect with his shins. The momentum of my body carries me past him as he falls backward. I continue to spin around until I'm lying on my back next to him. Then I quickly push my entire body up and over on top of his, coming to rest over him with my body pinning his right arm, my left arm over his throat, and my right arm holding his left wrist above his head. "Meet me in the lockers in 5" I whisper into his ear. He seems rather dazed by my defeating him so quickly. I push myself off the floor and reach down to give him my hand. He grasps it and pulls himself off the ground, we're both panting, him with exertion, me with exhilaration and anticipation "Fuck, man, that was intense. You need to show me some of those moves."
I nod to the trainer and head to the locker room, Jack trailing a couple steps behind me. When we get to the room, I head to the sauna and pour 3 ladles of water onto the rocks, creating thick white steam all around us. This is the only blind spot in the entire complex, and in 5 minutes, it will have the next batch of trainees. Jack is still behind me, and I grab hold of his hand, pulling him to a bench.
"Sorry about the bout, Jack, don't feel bad, I've been training in secret for months and I've been holding back. I'm sure if you'd been expecting it, we would have been better matched."
"Yeah, where did that fucking come from, Ed? And why are we here?" Jack eyes me curiously, I steel myself.
"I wanted to give you your birthday present," I say quietly.
"How did you—" I hear a sharp intake of breath as I palm his crotch through his towel, then, to my delight, I felt his cock begin to stiffen. Without waiting for him to stop me, I pull his towel loose from around his waist, and dropped to my knees in front of the bench. I lean forward, grasp the hardening length in my right hand, and jerk it a few times. It continues to stiffen, heading toward a full boner. I lean forward and licked the length of his shaft, from his balls to his head. Jack moans and throws his head back as I take one of his balls into my mouth, bathing the orb with my tongue, I give the same treatment to his other nut, cleaning the salty, sweaty skin with my tongue. As I let his second nut fall from my mouth, I'm struck with inspiration and I blow on his balls, hard. He hisses and sits bolt upright, "Fuck, Ed!" I revel in the power I have, licking my way up his rod once more. His slit is weeping precum and I gather the oozing liquid on my tongue, spreading it around as I take his head into my mouth, sucking gently. I feel him shudder and it spurs me on. I bob down on his shaft, taking about half into my mouth, then I suck hard as I withdraw, still working his shaft with my tongue, he moans and jolts as I reach his head once more and sweep my tongue over his slit again. His hands move from the bench to the back of my head, knotting in my hair as he holds me onto his cock. Then I go down on him again, taking more of his length, and apply the same suction as I withdraw again. I can tell he's close because he chants my name, "Fuck, Ed, so good… don't stop, Ed… fuuuuuuck" I plunge down on his length one more time, this time, I relax my throat and make sure his shaft doesn't touch the back of my tongue, and suddenly my nose is brushing his blonde curls at the base of his shaft, he tenses, eyes opening wide to captivate mine as I hold his entire length in my mouth, "Ed, I'm gonna…" he tries to warn me, but the knowledge of what I'm doing to him excites me to no end. I moan around his shaft and feel him tense underneath me as his cock jolts and streams of his cum start to spray the back of my throat. I withdraw enough to allow his cum to coat my tongue and mouth, tasting his essence for what I hope won't be the last time. I watch him the entire time, and he gazes at me as his cock empties in my mouth. I milk him dry and pull away from his softening cock. "Fuck, Ed, I never…"
"Shh, don't say anything, to anyone," I'm pretty sure Jack would keep quiet about what I've done to him, but even if he doesn't, I'm happy I worked up the courage.
"That was…" his eyes were glazed over, his face flushed, "I won't tell anyone, Ed. Thank you."
Present day
"Hey, did you die in there or something?" Blondie is sounding irritated, I wonder what would happen if I poked the bear, just a little.
"Yeah, you bored me to death, I have nothing more to say to you, Peroxide, I want the man, or indeed woman in charge." Blondie's eyes narrow, she takes aim and bounces the ball right off my forehead, of course it goes straight back to her, she does it again.. That was wildly successful.
"Look," I say, trying to move so that she can't get a clear shot, "I promise I won't kill your boss, I'm tied up, I just need to talk with her, I have business that I don't want to get sucked up in the chain of incompetence that most places like this are built with."
"I know you're a killer, you have the equipment of a Volturi, and you were sneaking in here in the dead of night, when almost all the base happened to be away dealing with a Volturi diversion. You tried to kill our doc, and now you claim you want to talk with my boss.. I may be blonde, but I'm not that blonde, Honey." Her voice drips sarcasm, I'm starting to get pissed at this little game.
"First of all, I'm not a killer," I say, "Second—"
"All Volturi are killers," She says frigidly, "If you aren't a killer by the time you hit 20, you aren't a Volturi anymore, and you and I both know there's only one way to leave the Volturi." Shit.
6 years ago
Jack's test is today, Victoria says he was ready to take it years ago, but this is the first opportunity he's had to prove himself, I guess there was some drama with Sanctum interference and operations like the one Jack has to do were closed off for a couple years. Jack will be back any minute, and then he'll be gone for good. It'll be torture and a relief. 16 years old, and I'm sure I'll never be kissed.
I've been sucking Jack off ever since last year. He loves it, says I'm way better than either Hanna or Sarah, though I'm not surprised, I'm in love with him, they aren't. He sometimes gives me a handjob, but he's adamant that we don't kiss. I'm pretty sure he's at most curious, not really gay, hardly even bi, but I wish he would return my feelings. Anyway, it probably won't matter, Victoria says when he passes his test he gets to choose his base, due to how highly he ranks among the students. She says he's going to pick Los Angeles, which figures. The one beautiful boy on the entire base, and he's given part of himself to me for a whole year, and now he moves across an ocean, away from me.
He's my first love, he's straight, and he's leaving me to pursue revenge. Fuck my life.
When he returns from his test, his eyes are hollow, I try to tease him, to get him to spar with me (usually my blowing him follows our sparring, because that's the only time we can get away from cameras) He looks at me and smiles tiredly, but I can tell something is different inside him. Jack has always had this rage, this hatred toward the world that he loses control of sometimes. I think it's part of what makes him excel, he hates the world that stole his parents. The spark of fury ignites every time he mentions them, and sometimes, when I see him practicing combat, I see the same spark. He is the most deadly when the spark is there, but now, it feels like there's a cold void where the spark should be.
"Jack, is something wrong?"
"I'm fine, Edward" He says shortly. He doesn't look fine, but he never calls me Edward, so I know enough to shut up, my wonderful boy is not the same as he was when he left. I leave him to himself and decide to confront him tomorrow, and maybe I'll find my playful Jack somewhere in this cold hard shell.
I get up early, intent on cornering Jack, I know our days and hours are limited, so I need to find him soon. I knock on the door of his new quarters, he no longer bunks with the trainees, and since he's leaving base, they've assigned him a temporary berth. He opens the door and sighs resignedly when he sees me. "Jack, you need to tell me what's wrong," I put my hand out to touch his shoulder, but he jerks away.
"You need to leave, Ed. I can't talk about it. I won't." He turns away from me, and something in his voice convinces me that he isn't going to talk. I turn and leave, closing the door softly behind me, a single tear slips down my cheek.
The next day, I return. I knock on the door, but he doesn't answer, I wait for a few minutes, still knocking fervently. Nothing. Maybe he's gotten up, fucker is probably practicing without me, now that he's a big agent man. I pass by the training yard, but he isn't there. I check the mess, I go to the Tech training center, with banks of computers and tables of gadgets. He isn't there. I finally give up, maybe he's on a mission. I ask my mother that night, and, in a shocking turn of events, she tells me.
"Jack is gone, Edward, he left for Los Angeles last night."
Gone.
Jack is gone, he didn't even say goodbye. I can't show how much I miss him, I need to be impassive, fucking fuck! FUCK! The asshole didn't even tell me he was leaving! 'you need to leave, Ed…' fucking asshole. I'm going to kill him! I hate him! And I love him. Fuck.
After a week, I cannot stand it anymore, I need to see his face again. I use the computers to hack his file again, and there he is, but the picture has been updated. It's no longer the boy I knew, all full of fire and fury. It's the man with hollow eyes. I see an attached file that wasn't in his records before called "Edward" I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach as I click on the file, it opens; it's a letter.
Edward,
I'm sorry that I could not face you, I'm sorry that I didn't ever tell you how much you mean to me, and how much I will miss you. I love you, how could I not. You are everything bright in the world, you are laughter and joy. You drew me out of my dark world, first as my friend, then as my lover. I'm so sorry that I did not say goodbye when I had the chance, but I couldn't face what I had done, and didn't want you to think less of me. I fear I failed my final test. I carried out my mission, and was promoted, but what they made me do…
The final test to become an operative of the Volturi is to kill an assigned target. That is why I could not carry out this mission earlier, Sanctum is bearing down on the Volturi, and for the last few years, they have not been able to assign this sort of mission as a final test. I am the first in two years, and I fear that the test broke me. The man I had to kill.. He looked like you, Ed. If I didn't know you weren't related, I'd swear he was an uncle of yours, maybe even your father, his hair, his eyes. I almost couldn't do it, I felt like it was you I was killing, but that horrible voice was in my head, Victoria in my head telling me it was all for my parents. Oh how I wish it had been you, reminding me of the beauty of life, urging me to stop. My greatest fear is that I might not have listened. After I did it, I realized the horror of killing. I knew then that I could never tell you the truth face to face.
The Volturi always told me that Sanctum was responsible for my parents' death. They said that if Sanctum were destroyed, that my parents would be avenged. I know now that what the Volturi do is evil. They destroyed me; they made me unworthy of your love. It broke my spirit, knowing that I would never again be worthy of you, not even being able to look you in the eye without seeing the man I murdered. Don't let them douse the fire in you, Edward. I will love you for as long as I live. Please destroy this as soon as you find it, these files are rarely accessed, but I fear for you if the Volturi find out about us. I am sorry I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you deserve. Find a way out, Ed. Don't let them break you too.
Yours until my dying breath,
Jack
I stare at the words for several minutes, love and horror, pain and fear well up inside me as I realize that I will never see Jack again. I cannot breathe, cannot think. I follow his instructions and purge the file, suddenly panic stricken, what if I'm not the first to read it, what if Victoria knows. But no, she would never stand for it, she would have killed me herself if she realized the contents of the letter.
Bile rises up as I react to the self-inflicted punishment Jack carried out on himself. I'm horrified by what the Volturi did to him, what they will probably try to do to me, and I can't stop them.
He loves me, he's gone. He's a killer, he loves me. I love him with everything that I am, but I love a man that is gone. He's broken, he's not who he was. He's a killer. He's a killer…
Present Day
She's back to fiddling with the gun. "Don't you have anything better to do with your time?" I ask acidly, maybe she'll piss off for a few seconds and I can get a moment of goddamn peace.
"Sorry, Honey, I find you riveting too, but orders are orders." She starts unloading her clip, bullet by bullet, then she wipes each of them down and puts them back, but if she wants to keep them clean, she's fucking failing.
"You know you're leaving your big fat thumbprint on each of the bullets, right?" fucking prissy moron can't even clean bullets properly. She grins at me, "Oh, I know, Honey, My bullets only kill Volturi, and I don't mind taking credit for that." Great… I'm stuck in a cell with a psychotic Volturi-hating Barbie just waiting for the green light to finish me. What the fuck am I supposed to do.?
4 years ago
Internal Volturi Memorandum
To: Victoria Masen, London Branch
Re: Los Angeles Branch
Be advised that as of 10:26 AM, June 4, 2007 the self destruct mechanism in the Los Angeles branch of Volturi Syndicate went active. All personnel still on base at the time of explosion have been presumed dead. All operations and personnel files confirmed destroyed. Accelerate timetable on Seattle operation, send full executive team ASAP. Recommend James Masen as Head of branch on probationary basis. Details of LA base personnel below
Head of syndicate branch: Aro Volturi Status: Confirmed Dead
Primary Security officer: Felix Dominev Status: MIA, Presumed Alive, off base at time of attack
Primary field agent: Jack Aborneth Status: Presumed Dead, on base at time of attack
Primary tech operative: Alec Whit Status: Presumed Dead, on base at time of attack
Primary intelligence operative: Jane Whit Status: MIA, Presumed Alive, off base at time of attack
Other Base Personnel
…
As I read the private memo, my eyes freeze at the third line of the personnel roster. Presumed Dead. I can't bring myself to care about the other people from the branch of the Volturi that has been assaulted, I can't mourn their loss, since I didn't know any of them. I can only picture blond hair and smiling blue eyes, aglow with wit and passion. Jack is dead.
For the next 3 weeks, I'm practically a zombie, James leaves to head up the new Seattle operation, I barely notice the vast improvement in the cleanliness of Victoria's and my personal space since he vacated. Hanna and Sarah are both reassigned to cover base shortages in other cities as Seattle is populated, I didn't say goodbye (not that I really cared enough about either of them to do so out of anything but manners anyway.) Victoria tries to rouse me by sniping at me every chance she gets, but after a week of this I throw her up against a wall, putting my training to good use. Far from upsetting her, she seems happy with me for the first time ever, congratulating me on my fighting prowess, I growl at her and stalk off, still unable to cope with the loss of the only friend I had since I was 12, and the only lover I'd ever had.
After Jack left, I realized how incredibly lucky I had been that he was gay. I never even considered starting a similar liaison with any other men (not that any of them interested me, but if they had I still would have balked).
I pick myself up after the third week and think back to the letter I read in his file 2 years before, I determine that I'll avoid killing if it's the last thing I do, knowing that my test is going to come sooner rather than later, I begin to plot. Obviously the only way to avoid killing is to pretend to kill. Within a week I have everything I'll need to convincingly fake a death, I know from some extended eavesdropping that confirmation of kills comes in the form of photographic evidence, I'm lucky it's nothing so substantial as a body part, but even amputation would be preferable to death for most people (if not all, but I don't want to generalize).
I throw myself into my training, at 18, I'm absolutely unchallenged in all my courses of work. I speak 11 languages fluently, I am at the top of 3 martial arts tiers. I can assemble and disassemble any gun on base in under 30 seconds and hit 5 bulls eyes in a row with any of them (except some of the more lively machine guns, but what are you going to do?) I have been undefeated in knife fights for almost a year, (even Victoria won't challenge me, which I'm particularly proud of) I can control a car like none other, I can charm the pants off any woman (or man, I hope) in approximately 3 minutes. I can hack anything with a modem and an operating system designed after 1990 (but come on, who uses anything older for intel work now?) I have perfect scores on my situational exams (practical courses where you are posed with a crisis or mission and scored on how well you execute strategy and tactics) and at the top of my medicinal and chemical studies.
My timing turns out to be eerily serendipitous, as Victoria comes to me exactly one month after the LA branch is hit.
"Your test is today," she announces, I almost fall out of my chair.
"Today?" I say blankly, she glowers.
"Yes, now get dressed, and wear a suit. You leave in 10 minutes; you'll get your briefing en route." She stalks off, I release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding and sit for a moment. Then I pull myself together, gather what I know I'll need, and head out to the motor pool, time to see if my acting chops match the rest of my skillset.
I arrive at the garage in time to see the other three men of my four man team suited and hopping into a van. McCallister, a quiet fellow I've never really interacted with, is the team leader. He hands me my mission briefing. I quickly peruse its contents. Basically, I'm to identify and kill a mid-level American diplomat in an upscale London hotel, the fallout of this uncouth murder is supposed to raise tension between the countries of England and the US, not to mention that the software company this particular diplomat started will tank, and the Volturi intend to capitalize on its financial trouble.
McCallister makes it clear that this is a solo mission. I will be off comms unless I run into major trouble, I will have no backup on the ground unless I fuck up. If I fuck up, it will be bad for me. I nod. He hands me a camera, he wants me to photograph the body once it's done. I take the camera. I have on the suit and I have a messenger bag for the gear I'm taking, the killing should be quiet, so I don't even take a gun. The van pulls up to the hotel and I hop out, smoothing my tie and running my fingers through my hair to tame it somewhat. I breathe deep, this is the first unfiltered air I've tasted in 8 years, the sounds of the city are comfortingly alien, I'm almost free.
I stroll into the hotel with my bag slung over my shoulder, I walk up to the concierge desk and lean against it, throwing a quick, shy smile at the dark haired concierge, she smiles back, her eyes raking up and down my form.
"Hey, beautiful," I say in my most charming sex voice, the words feel like velvet on my tongue, very different from my normal speaking voice, "My boss sent me to find a colleague of his, but I'm not sure what he looks like, could you help me out? I think he's an important client of yours." I wink. She blushes.
"Well, I'm not sure if I should give you any client information, Mr…"
"Bond, James Bond," I say, tongue in cheek, she snorts, rolling her eyes, "What?" I ask, "I thought my accent was rather good, besides, I'm trying to find this guy to kill him, so I need a spy name, right?" her eyes widen until I raise my hands, "Kidding, sorry poor taste. Anyway, I am in a bit of a bind, I need to get these documents signed and back to my boss pronto, the guy's name is Peter Conrad, can't you help me out? I accidentally spilled my boss's coffee on him this morning, so I'm in the shitter, if I fuck this up, he'll fire me. My life is in your hands." I give my best winning smile, and she smiles again.
"Well," she says again, "I guess since you just need to speak with him briefly, I could point you in his direction. Mr. Conrad happens to be at the bar, he's the gentleman with dark hair, blue-green eyes, and the pinstripe suit." She points toward the bar and I grab her hand, kissing it swiftly, "You're a lifesaver…"
"Mary," she says, blushing hotly.
"I owe you, lovely Mary." I squeeze her hand and head for the bar. There are only a handful of people left since it's well past midnight by this time. I peruse the room and identify Conrad with no difficulty, now for the real seduction.
I slide into the stool next to him and order a whisky from the bartender, he cards me, which is embarrassing as hell, but I play it off and offer him a "thanks," as if it's a great compliment, definitely not James Bond, and thank God I'm 18, I'm probably pink around the edges as I sip the drink, relishing the burn. I glance at Conrad and I'm surprised to see that he looks about 35, I'd expected someone older, and less attractive. He gives me the once over, then raises his glass and cocks an eyebrow, "Can't remember the last time I was carded," he remarks quietly, "and fuck if you're a day over 18,too."
I grin at him, "You Americans get the shit end of the stick, that's for sure," I say, recognizing his wistfulness, I use my sexy voice again, with a light accent, just in case he has a thing for foreigners. I lick my lips deliberately, noting that his eyes follow the movement of my tongue, he throws a heated glance at me. He definitely swings the right way, now to get him alone.
"Nice to meet you, .." I pause inquisitively, "Peter," He supplies, holding out a hand to me, I take his hand in one of mine and give it a firm squeeze, then release it, allowing my fingers to trail over his skin. He exhales noticeably, I smirk at him and the heated look is back in his eye. I think of Jack, and the control I had over him with the merest touch, my heart squeezes in my chest but I force myself to focus and nod at Peter. "Looks like your drink is getting low, Peter. Are you heading off to bed then?" I inflect the word bed differently to draw his attention to the innuendo.
"I'm not as old as that," He says in an affronted tone, I trail my hand over his, grazing his knuckles with my index finger, "You do look quite… virile" I comment lightly, his hand shivers, and he fucking growls at me, "I may have to demonstrate my vigor, for the pride of my entire generation, boy." His voice is husky and thick, I smile languidly and nod, sliding off my stool and following him as he walks calmly toward the elevator bank. We ride up to his floor in silence and he opens the door before turning and pressing me to it, I switch from seductive to serious faster than he can blink and I grab his wrist as he tries to capture my arms. I turn tables on him and trap him against the wall, he moans, thinking it is part of the seduction. "Mr. Conrad," I say softly, dropping the accent, "I need you to listen to me, very carefully." He tenses as soon as I drop his last name.
"I assume you know who the Volturi are, I've been sent here by them to end your life," He begins to struggle against my grip, but I hold him fast, "Fucking prick!" he snarls, "of all the cowardly, vile, disgusting, fuck you!" I smile, "You seemed like you'd like that a minute ago," I remind him flippantly, "Besides, I only said I was sent here to kill you, not that I was going to do it." He falls silent and stops struggling.
"What is it you're after?" he asks, "Money? I'll pay you well" I cut him off, "I'm not a whore to be bought, Mr. Conrad, and I don't need your money. What I want is vindication. I will not become a killer at the behest of an organization that forces children to embrace their brainwashing bullshit, my parents forced me into this position, and I intend to get out of it. What I need from you is simple, I want you to die." He curses at me again, I shake him firmly until he stops, "I need to provide photographic evidence that you are dead, and I need you to maintain the charade until I can get away from the Volturi once and for all, in return, I will give you their entire London operation." I make a wild offer, hoping that the Volturi picked this man for more pressing reasons than his business connections or puny political power.
"Shit," Conrad breathes, "How did you know I work for Sanctum?"
"You just told me," I grin cheekily, "But I'm very astute, do we have a deal?"
"I can safely say that we have a deal," Conrad confirms, "How do we do this?"
"Leave it to me," I say, pulling out a kit from my bag. I slash up a set of his clothes and he quickly strips and changes into them, then I apply fake blood and gore to his body, I complete the effect with bruises on his arms and neck as if from a struggle. When I finish his killing looks particularly brutal. I stage him on one of the beds and break some of the furniture around the body, I spill a copious amount of the fake blood on the sheets then snap some photos of his prone figure, making sure he arranges his limbs in painful and unnatural ways to add to the overall milieu.
"Peter, this has to be convincing, you have to die, or I will." I say seriously. I'm putting my life in the hands of Sanctum, I'm trusting a man I barely know. "I would rather die than kill, but that doesn't mean I have any particular wish to die." I pause significantly, waiting for him to respond.
Conrad grins and flips open a phone, dialing a number and waiting while it rings, "Carlisle," he says when the call connects, "I need some help, I have a Volturi operative here that needs me to fake my death, when he gets free of them, he'll hand over the London branch once and for all…" the voice on the other end asks a question, "No, he came to me, could have just as easily killed me outright…" another question, "No, just me, doesn't want any more on us…" another question, "Yes, I believe so…" there is a brief pause, then the other man says something else, "Excellent, I'll expect the team soon." Conrad flips his phone closed, then grins, "A team will fix it up in no time. When you get free, call this number," he scrawls a telephone number on a piece of paper, "I will make sure you're brought in securely, and we can take these bastards down."
There's a knock at the door and Conrad opens it to reveal a pair of police officers and a female coroner, they all nod deferentially to him as they enter, I slip out and down the hall. Stowing my camera, I memorize the number before dropping the paper into a waste bin. I activate my earpiece and call for an extraction, McCallister and the rest of the team meet me just outside the hotel. As I hop into the van he asks how the mission went, I glare and hand over the camera, refusing to answer. He examines the pictures and whistles lowly, "you're a violent one" is his only comment. I refuse to talk for the rest of the trip back.
When we reach the base, I march swiftly to the quarters I now share with only Victoria. I get into the shower and scrub my skin vigorously; I'll have to make this convincing if I want to have any control over my life at all. I hear Victoria knock on the door to the bathroom and turn of the water. I wrap a towel around my waist and open the door, she seems delighted, small wonder, heartless bitch. For the second time in my life, I assault my mother, I grab her and press her against the wall, arm on her throat. I put a haunted look (I've practiced in the mirror) into my eyes and I snarl, "Never, EVER again, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" I press her more firmly with every breath, intending to convey my message clearly, "If you try to force me to kill again, I will kill you." I put as much venom into my words as I can, Victoria's eyes are wide as she hears my threat, and she nods weakly. I release her and stalk back to my room, pulling on clothes quickly. I leave the quarters and go to the training yard where I beat up some mannequins ferociously, pretending to vent inner rage. Everyone leaves me alone.
For a couple of months, nobody mentions my mission, Victoria doesn't even speak to me. Finally, about 3 months after my test, she corners me, and I can tell the bulk of my threat has worn away.
"You ungrateful bastard," she hisses, as I stand impassively in the center of our quarters, "I had such high hopes for you, after James was… well, he hasn't exactly done credit to the family name. You should suck it up, be a man. If you refuse to take the dirty jobs, you'll remain a worthless pawn, do you think that's what I want for my son?" the tension in the room is palpable, I fix her with an icy stare, which she returns full force, "You're weak, just like your father. He was never cut out for this life. If you had half my ambition, you could rule all of the Syndicate, even the brothers would be yours to command," She spat the words at me fast and furious, "You are my greatest failure in life, I cannot believe how pathetic you are." With that she spun on her heel and marched out of the room.
Though her feelings were clear, I never received any kill orders, I would go on non-violent missions or missions where violence was optional. Since I was so well trained and had done so well in my classes, I was a squad leader, but no one stayed with me for more than a month before requesting a transfer. My teams never killed, and the only time a member killed on one of my ops, I found a tactical error the man had made and used it as an excuse to drop him.
Victoria didn't speak to me for almost two years, which was fine with me. I did her dirty work, short of killing. I was never allowed out of the complex alone, and was never left alone on ops. Perhaps she knew that I wanted out, perhaps she feared what I might do if I ever got free.
Present Day
"Peter Conrad."
"What's that, Honey?" Rosalie flips her hair as she looks up from her magazine.
"Peter Conrad," I repeat, "Tell your boss that I made a deal with Peter Conrad 4 years ago. At the time he was working in London."
"And why the fuck would my boss know about this deal?" Blondie is just being difficult now, but since I can't get the message across personally, I'll have to play along.
"I have a number for him, it's 646…" I tell her the rest of the number that's been burned in my head for the last 4 years, since this is the first time I've had unsupervised access to anything outside Volturi bases, I guess I kept my deal after all, of course, since I was frozen out of both London and Seattle, I probably don't have enough information to bring down either branch, but I'm sure I can still help. Blondie seems to be skeptical rather than downright hostile, so I simply let her absorb the information for a moment.
"Here's the deal, Honey, I'm going to get in touch with this Conrad fellow, and if you've been lying to me, I'm going to let my husband in here, and he's going to rearrange your face, m'kay?" I nod weakly, I'm not lying, but I hope to whatever god is out there that Conrad is still around and still remembers me, I really don't need Ken smashing my face in, though if he did, I might get some more doctoring…
…
Blondie is back. She doesn't look happy, which could go one of two ways, either she thinks I'm lying, and she's mad that I had her go to her boss, or she found out I'm telling the truth, and doesn't want to admit that I'm not who she thinks I am.
"Damn you, Honey, you're making my life suck!" She glares at me through the bars, pacing back and forth in agitation, "Fucking suck!"
"Touché," I spit back. She rounds on me.
"Don't you get all smug, you Volturi scum," she shrieks, "I can't confirm your fucking pansy-ass story, because the man that used to go by the name of Peter Conrad is currently deep undercover, so we can't contact him. The number he gave you is one he can't use in cover, so conveniently, we can't confirm or deny your bullshit lie, which means that my boss won't let me do anything with you for the moment. I'm stuck with you." She's fuming and ranting while she stomps around outside my cell. I figure it's only fair to let her, since the situation does suck. Of all the fucking luck, my one link to Sanctum, the one person that could and would corroborate my story just happens to be unavailable for the long term. Caught in fucking limbo again. My life is one great tragic joke.
2 years after test
Victoria wants me in her office, this should be good. I haven't spoken to her in 634 days, (1 year, 9 months). We live together, we eat together, sometimes she even spars with me, but the shroud of bitter, silent disappointment has rested on us for nearly two years. That's fine by me, I hate her, I hate this entire life. I never chose it, I don't fit in, and I don't want to stay here, I just can't figure out a fucking escape.
"You're being reassigned," Victoria states coldly, inwardly I'm jumping up and down, finally a place away from my fucking family, somewhere to build a reputation and trust until I can finally, "to Seattle," she finishes with a sick smile. FUCKING NO WAY IN HELL.
"Before you protest, you should know that your other choice is retirement." Well, between James and death, it's a close race, but James barely ekes out ahead, providing of course that I get my own quarters. If I have to share with that pig again, I'll gut him.
"Edward, you proved yourself my son once, show me more, and I might change my mind, disappoint me and I'll simply leave you to rot with your brother to babysit you." I want to kill her, I could do it, I could end her now, but it would accomplish nothing, it would simply mar my soul, it would break me, and she fucking knows it. Someday I will see you dead, vile bitch. I nod, furious, then turn and walk out of her office. One way or another, I'm going to Seattle.
Present day
"Blondie, I fucking hate this as much as you, probably even more," She glares daggers at me.
"Really fucking unlikely, Honey," she shouts at me, "If you don't have anything more than fucking Peter Conrad to give me, then shut the fuck up."
Fuck this, I'm not spending my life in this fucking cell waiting for Conrad to get off his assignment and come rescue me. Time for another long shot, sometimes they pay off, after all.
"I have one more name, but he might not even be Sanctum. Conrad called a man named Carlisle."
Blondie stops midstride and stares at me, "No. Fucking. Way." She breathes.
Jackpot.
A/N - I appreciate the value of reviews more than ever. Please give feedback and tell me what you think of the story.
I'm posting this chapter now because it feels like it's ready now, and I wanted to give more Edward, since last chapter was more Jasper history.
I'm looking for a beta, PM me if you're interested. I feel like this story has lots of little pieces coming together, they intersect and build on each other, and it's much easier finding things that don't make sense when you are outside the writing. I've gone through about 4 drafts of this chapter, and I wouldn't be surprised if there's at least one or two things that don't make a whole lot of sense.
