Et Relinqueretur
Chapter 2
"Relocating"


Anna found that the rhythmic pounding of her fist calmed her nerves. The large bag of sand shifted only slightly as she wailed on it with her fists again and again. If she closed her eyes she was able to see the something else other than the bag and vent her anger. She seemed to have a lot of that lately.

Sweat trickled down her neck cooling down the heat from her muscles. The moisture caught the early morning light from the floor to ceiling, east facing, windows causing her skin to glisten. A few more punches and Anna stopped grabbing a water bottle bring it up to her dry lips and taking a long draw.

She was exhausted. Both emotionally and physically spent.

The years of running were starting to take its toil on her mental psyche. She found herself constantly looking over her shoulder looking for something that wasn't there. She had the constant tingling sensation that someone was watching her. 'Paranoid,' she concluded staring out the large windows watching the sunrise over the tall skyscrapers.

Anna had matured greatly as the years went by. Her small child form had grown to a height of 5'8. She was fit, her stomach was flat and firm, and while she still held air of being fragile she was anything but. Her lean, athletic figure held both grace and power, and she stood with confidence that takes people lifetimes to achieve. Anna had grown into a beautiful young woman, yet the scars of her past were still evident.

A long smooth line curved itself from the top of her stomach down to her hipbone. It was as if someone or something had sliced her clean open with a scalpel using a surgeon's steady hand. It was clearly visible in the clothing that she was wearing, a sports bra and short workout shorts. The story behind that scar is long and complicated like a lot of her scars. But not all of her scars were visible on the outside.

After staring out the window for a minute Anna padded across the large open room to a metal desk with her computer. She took a seat on a metal stool and brought up a little chat window. Her mouse cursor blinked on the page as she typed and waited…

P1I9K8A9: Anything new to report?

D1U9C9K7: Negative. Everything's been pretty quiet around here. Noah's been waiting to see if you'd come out in the open.

P1I9K8A9: To bad he's going to be disappointed. How are things going for you? Are you safe?

D1U9C9K7: I'm fine. You worry too much. I've been working on getting you information on the founders, but everything is pretty secured here.

P1I9K8A9: Don't do anything risky. I don't want you getting too involved in this. They don't take kindly to traitors. If they catch you you're dead.

D1U9C9K7: I know, I'm being careful. I gotta go, my mentor wants me to practice my fighting skills. I'll contact you if I find out anything else.

[D1U9C9K7 Logged off]

Anna stared at the screen of her laptop for a few more seconds, guilt beginning to flood into her consciousness. 'Poor Duck. Poor little Duck. I'm so sorry you're involved in this,' she thought these words with the utmost sincerity. Anna pitied Duck in a way she was much like herself. Both were victims of their own abilities, both had lost their families, and both were at war with the Institute; however unlike Duck, Anna was on the outside. She had escaped that prison, but now she needed to find a way to get others out.

She didn't have much time to dwell on her guilt so before it became too noticeable in her mind Anna squashed it choosing instead to focus on her packing list. She would be relocating today and had to be thorough as to not leave any trace of her behind. Even the smallest hint that she had been there could lead the Institute right to her.

She had already packed away her guns taking care to hide them from prying eyes under the cushions of a couch and her clothes had been packed into boxes and placed in the back of a U-Haul truck under the name 'Annie Walker '. Everything had been made to look as if it were just another person moving. Some guys from the apartment down the hall had even offered to help her some of the larger items into the truck.

And who was she to decline help from some unsuspecting neighbors.

The only thing she currently had to do now was take a shower and change out of her workout clothes. Then she would take the last remaining furniture (the desk, punching bag, and stool) to the truck. She would be leaving behind the name 'Isabel Johnson' and creating a new alias of Annie Walker. It was her system to leave behind one name and pick up another and with each new name she became a new person with a new story. Isabel Johnson the quite, yet pretty journalist who lived in apartment 2D would be traded in for Annie Walker the aspiring chef from Farnham, England.

After taking a shower Anna slipped into some comfortable jeans and throwing a black racer-back tank top over her head. There was the brief flicker of a tattoo on her left shoulder blade before she slipped into a black leather jacket with Kevlar lining. Someone in her shoes could never be too careful. She grabbed a small blade and slipped it into her left boot before heading back out to the sparse living room.

It only took about ten minutes before she had loaded everything else in the U-Haul and after that it was only 32 hours of nonstop driving before she arrived in Port Angeles. Anna had decided that she wouldn't go anywhere near Forks, a town like that where everyone knew everyone was a kill zone for someone like her. She could keep up appearance well enough, but if she lived in a town like that sooner or later her behavior would start to become a spectacle to the residents there. She much preferred to blend in in larger cities, be inconspicuous in hoards of people; small towns were just not the place to do that.

Her current choice of residence might be what one would consider strange. Most people didn't choose an old firehouse as an apartment, but Anna liked it. It had personality. Unlike the dull cement walls of the Institute training facility that had been her home for half of her life. No this place was different, unique, the kind of uniqueness that she craved after the suppression of almost all form of self-expression that came from working with the Institute. This was a place that she could consider calling home, had she not been running for her life.

Anna parked the truck inside the garage that had kept its original high ceilings. She jumped out of the truck slamming the door behind her. She would be unpacking later that day. There was something else she needed to do first, someone she needed to see.


Steven Kane was a quiet individual. He kept to himself; he didn't have friends, at least none that came around regularly. He spent much of his time either in his house or at his job. It would be strange for anyone to come by and see him. So of course when there was a knock on his front door he frowned. No one should've been knocking on his door.

"I'm coming," he yelled when another knock sounded. The persistent person wouldn't go away. Steven wrenched open the door only to be met with the sight of a young woman standing on his porch step. She was tall, above average height, with light brown hair. Dressed in black and wearing dark aviators so he was unable to see her eyes, she stood stationary studying him.

"Hello Steven." She spoke calmly. Her voice was soft, feminine, sweet too. Yet there was this underlying threat, this danger that she emitted.

Steven examined her for a moment. "Hello Steven? Who the hell are you?" He asked, incredulously.

The woman smiled at his response. She found this whole situation rather amusing, while that smile only perplexed the man. "Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, sweetly; it was far too sweet. She brought hand up and removed the sun glasses so he would have a clearer view of her face and chocolate brown eyes. "Hello Patrick, did you miss me?" she smiled a sinister smile, a predatory smile.

Patrick's hazel eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him. "Eden," he moved to slam the door in her face, but she was far too quick. Clamping her hand around his neck, she pushed him into the house and shut the door behind them.

Patrick struggled in her iron grip, the respiratory passages of his throat being constricted. He was fearful of his life, he had reason to be. "What are you doing here? You know they're going to know you were here," he rasped. She couldn't kill him, not now. She wouldn't kill him. She wasn't that reckless, at least Patrick prayed she wasn't that reckless.

Anna pushed him back releasing his throat. He fell on to the soft padded couch not having realized that he was been brought into the living room. He watched as she looked around at the rather plain room, no pictures, and minimal decorations. The curtains were drawn so not much light flooded through the windows, not that there was much light to begin with. The lack of light made the whole room seem all the more depressing and dreary. "It's rather dull isn't it?" she questioned with a frown.

"What use would I have for pictures?" He retorted, rubbing his neck to ease the soreness.

"That's true. You don't have any use for pictures," Anna shrugged, "But then again that's not why I'm here." She turned around and crossed the room with confident graceful strides. Anna then sat on the coffee table, much to Patrick's distain. "You're probably wondering what you did for me to pay you a visit. Truth is I'm not here to hurt you," she informed him calmly, "I need a favor."

Patrick scoffed, "Why in the world would you ever think I'd be obligated to grant you any favors?"

"You're not, but we both know that the second I leave here you're going to inform them that I was here. You're going to tell them what I said to you while I was here. You're obligated to do that," she reasoned, "and that means that you're also obligated to deliver a message for me."

"A message? You want them to know you're here."

Anna smiled and patted him on the head with a gloved hand, "Good boy. You at least caught that much." She crooned as if talking to a dog. She ran her fingers through is reddish brown curls in a somewhat motherly gesture that only made Patrick sick to his stomach.

"You're a psychopath," he wrenched her hand away. He didn't want to be touched by her, that vile creature sitting in front of him. Anna glared menacingly at his hand that was still gripping her wrist rather tightly. She felt a release of energy at the familiar feeling of electricity running through her veins before a bright blue spark lit up the darkened room and traveled up into Patrick's arm. He yelped in pain moving away from her, hastily. Electrokinesis stings like a bitch.

"I don't remember giving you permission to touch me," she hissed. Patrick was crouched, cowering away from her as little blue sparks moved up the skin of his arm. Anna watched him as the pain subsided, 'Pathetic.' "Now you're going to give Noah a message for me," she left no room to argue, "I'm done running. He if wants to play, we'll play. The winner gets to keep his head."

"You want revenge because he killed your mother," the man breathed.

That was true. Anna did want revenge, but not for Renee. "You're talking about Renee. I suppose that does warrant some form of retaliation," she mused, "and yet that's not why I'm doing this." Anna carefully removed the gloves from her hands setting them on the table next to her. She was angry, angry at herself, angry at her mother, just angry at the world in general.

"Why are you doing this?"

Anna leaned in only a breath apart from his face, "That's enough questions now, Patrick. It's time for you to take a little nap." She raised her hand up palm facing towards his face. Another spark of blue and he was rendered unconscious. She wasted no time in getting out of that house. Not sparing another glance at her surroundings, she walked out of the front door into the unknown. Safety, be damn. She was done playing it safe. Playing it safe was what got her mother killed; it was what caused her paranoia. She was done running, it was time to be the threat that the Institute feared. 'The worlds a stage and we are merely players. Let the games begin, good luck Noah. God knows you're going to need it,' she laughed.

This was the most free she had felt in years.


'So bright,' Anna cringed as she opened her eyes. Where was she? How did she get here? The little girl sat up looking around her at the cold cement walls and the clean white sheets of the cot she was sleeping on. 'How did I get here?' She looked around her worriedly.

This place was foreign to her. It was cold; the light gave her the feeling of being exposed, on display. She was a lab rat in a cage, that's what it felt like at least. She had never seen this place before. The last thing she remembered was playing in the park with her father.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as she crawled off the cot and across the room to the only door. Wrapping her tiny hands around the handle she gave it a little tug, it didn't budge. It figures that the only door was locked. She was trapped and scared and alone. Anna wanted her parents; she wanted her mother and her father. The little girl retreated to the only safe place she knew, under the cot. "Mommy, Daddy," she sobbed curling up in a tight ball.

There was a sound of the heavy metal door being pushed open as someone entered the room. Anna was quick to dry her tears and curl in tighter hoping to remain inconspicuous. She listened to the loud taps of whilst a woman's high heeled stiletto neared the cot. "What are you doing down there?" The woman asked.

Anna dared not to move. She couldn't look up, she didn't want to.

"Come on out of there. I'm sure you're hungry. I brought you some chocolate chip pancakes. You like chocolate don't you?" The woman reached a hand under the cot to coax the child out. Her fingers barely brushed Anna's shoulder before she let out a little squeak and scooted farther away. "Okay, I just leave the pancakes on the table. I've brought you an extra change of clothes also; I've put those on the bed. You can come out whenever you're ready," she stood up from the ground.

Anna waited until she heard the metal door click shut leaving her alone again. She crawled out from under the cot after a few minutes drying her tears. Crying wasn't going to get her anywhere. 'I'm a big girl. Big girls don't cry,' she told herself. Now that Anna wasn't as confused, she took a minute to really study where she was being held.

There were no windows. Everything was either metal, white, or cement. The only light shown down from the ceiling in little fluorescent squares and casted square shadows on the cold cement. There wasn't much furniture in the room. Besides the cot, the room was practically empty. A metal desk placed off to the side away from the door with a matching metal chair sat under two identical metal shelves.

True to the woman's word on the desk was sitting a porcelain white plate stacked with two chocolate chip pancakes on a metal tray next to a tall glass of milk. There was a fork, but no knife. Anna was suddenly overcome with how hungry she was. That last time she had eaten was yesterday, she thought, or the day before. If her stomach was any indication she knew that it had been at least several hours if not more since she had anything to eat.

It didn't even occur to her until after she had polished off the plate of pancakes and gulped down half the glass of milk that these people shouldn't have been feeding her. Anna didn't know much about these situations. But she knew that you don't get chocolate chip pancakes.

"I see you've eaten the pancakes."

That sentence startled the girl who had her back to the door. She didn't notice when a well-dressed man entered the room. Anna whipped her head around and took a step back closer to the desk. It wasn't as if the man was threatening, in fact he was wearing a very gentle expression. Dark brown locks were brushed away from his scruffy face and his black suit was without a single wrinkle. "Allow me to introduce myself," he started cordially not moving an inch towards or away from Anna. "My name is Xavier, though people usually tend to call me X," he told her.

When Anna didn't respond he continued. "I'm sure you're wondering what you're doing here. I want to assure you that you're safe. No one is going to hurt you here. Now would you tell me your name?" He requested.

"If you don't like it you can choose a new one, but choose carefully you won't get to choose again," he added.

Anna thought about that for a moment. She didn't want to give this strange man her name. Her parents had warned her against talking to strangers and giving her name was a big no-no. "Eden," she said speaking the first name that popped into her mind. Eden was another little girl that lived on the same street, her and Anna would often have playdates together.

Xavier nodded. "Well Eden do you have any questions?"

"Where are my mom and dad?"

"There not here—"

"I know that," Anna shouted, "Where are they?"

Xavier sighed, "And they thought you were shy."

"What?"

"Nothing. Your parents are back home," he said.

"Why aren't they here? I want to see them. Take me home please," Anna pleaded. Tears were pricking at her eyes. It was a soul-wrenching site, but Xavier could let himself become attached.

"You can't go home, Eden. Your parents will get hurt. You will hurt them."

"What are you talking about?"

Xavier's expression twisted into one of discomfort. "You're different Eden. You're special. Now most people don't know how to treat special people like us. Your parents wouldn't know what to do with you," he explained, "You have a gift that if not tended to properly could hurt people. You don't want to hurt people. You don't want to hurt your family, do you?"

Anna shook her head vigorously. "Once you are under control you can return to them. You'll get to continue your merry life and won't be a danger to anyone."

"What do I have to do?"

"Learn," he responded, "learn to stand up straighter, learn how to talk right, to walk right, learn when to be silent and when to speak, learn to listen, and most importantly learn to survive. It is survival that will take you back to your family. Survival is key -remember that, and to survive you need to fight."


'Survival is key,' those words kept repeating themselves as Anna walked down the cereal aisle. She was buying groceries. How domestic. Her cart was filled with bottled water, canned food, pasta, plastic plates and cups, the type of things that wouldn't expire quickly. She was also buying everything in bulk. Shopping wasn't something that was high on her list of priorities and she would prefer to do it as little as possible.

"Are you preparing for the zombie apocalypse?"

Anna snapped back to reality. She arched one eye brow in question looking at the man –boy more like –watching her with a friendly smile. He had a kind face and warm brown eyes under a fringe of honey blonde hair. He seemed like that type of person who was easy to talk to and Anna saw no harm in having a conversation with him. "Yes, I just have a few more things on my list," she looked at the sheet of paper in her hand and pretended to read of it, "garbage bags, rope –and do you know where I can find a hacksaw?"

He laughed at her response. "The garbage bags are on two, but you might want to check a hardware store for the hacksaw," he told her.

Anna laughed, "Thanks, I'll be sure to do that."

He grinned at her pleased with himself for making her laugh. "I'm Mike –Mike Newton," he said extending his hand towards her.

"Annie Walker," she replied grasping his hand firmly with a quick shake.

"British?"

"Yep. My folks are back in England," she retorted.

Mike was mildly interested. "Which part?" He asked.

"Farnham. I just moved here and I haven't learned my way around yet. You don't happen to know any place that's looking to hire a gourmet chef do you?" She said going over her cover story in her head. It wasn't necessary to mention the chef part, but Anna wanted to be sure she had all her bases covered.

Mike shook his head, "I don't live here, so I'm afraid I wouldn't know."

"Oh where are you from?"

"Forks," he said, "It's this tiny little town about thirty minutes west of here."

"By the Indian reservation? I heard there were some amazing trails there," she said excitedly. This could not have been better planned. If she knew someone who lived in Forks then it wouldn't be that hard for her to come and visit.

"Yeah there are. My family owns a sporting goods store –it's not Sport's Authority –but there are constant people saying how great the trails are."

"Sounds fun," she laughed, "I'll have to get over there sometime and check it out. I'd like to get a good look around the town. Maybe find some good places to eat. I'm always up for a little adventure." Anna paused moving a step closer, "And perhaps we could meet up and you could show me your family's store."

Mike nodded enthusiastically, "Sounds like a plan." He certainly didn't see any problem with that. What could be wrong with showing a hot British girl around Forks?

"Here let me give you my number," she said pulling out a pen and writing on the bottom of her shopping list. She ripped it off and handed it to him. "Give me a call it you like or if you finding any chef openings in Forks, m'kay," she winked.

"Sure," he said a little awestruck.

"I'd best be going now. The apocalypse waits for no man," she said and with that walked down the aisle leaving a dumbfounded Mike Newton in her wake. This was a good day.


Author's Note:

Finally updated this story. This chapter took me awhile to actually get down on a word document. The words weren't really flowing like they should. Hope you guy's didn't mind waiting too long. Leave a review and tell me what you think of Adult Anna. There will be more flashbacks to come I promise.