File #1
The day dawned as it always had. She kicked the blankets off of her legs and sat up, ducking her head to avoid hitting the shelf that hung over where she laid her head. For a moment, she allow the bare skin of her arms to warm in the brilliant yellow light pouring in from the east. Just another day…
Without warning and somewhat surprisingly, a ringing erupted, filling the small room with a shrill sound. She lunged and pounced on a small black bag that sat abandoned on the floor. From it emerged a handheld phone that was shaking even as it was ringing. The press of a single button stopped the noise.
"Maye," she stated briefly, sitting herself more comfortably on the floor. Her eyes focused on something across the room, a spider that was crouched on the pale green wall, small and unobtrusive. "No, I finished the job – no, I did, Deme. I fucking- don't tell me to clean up my language, Demetrius Allen. I know that I did what I was told – the target was acquisitioned and disposed of. No one saw and I dumped her fucking body in the fucking Hudson." She was silent again, but a storm was beginning to brew on her pretty face. With an irate sigh, she pushed herself to her feet and rubbed the back of her neck. "Deme, fine, I'll do a double check. But I promise you, the bitch is dead." She gave a final nod and removed the phone from her ear. She let the device fall back into the bag and grabbed a jacket from where it hung over the back of a chair. As she pulled it on, she crossed the tiny room, to a small basket that sat on a shelf above the bed.
"Come here, Donalbain," she said quietly, scooping something out. It gave an insistent cry of protest and she shushed it gently. "You slept just as long as I did and you can sleep on the ride into town. Now, hush." It gave another protest, but she let it fall into the pocket of her jacket, where it was quiet. As she moved towards the door, she stopped again at the black bag and pulled out another small phone – this one was white in color, but the same shape and size as the other. It went into the other pocket.
Outside, the air was chilled, destroying the image of a warm morning that the sun had previously hinted at. She shivered and frowned, as if her irritation would be enough to make the air around her warm. When it didn't work, she shoved both hands deep into the pockets of her jacket and hunched her shoulders. This was going to be a long walk…
The trees and plants that she had made her home quickly gave way to asphalt and metal. This early in the morning, the cars that drove along the road were filled with half awake commuters who paid almost no mind to the small female form that trotted along the shoulder, bundled against the cold. If any of them did, she most likely resembled a runaway and who were they to get involved in another's business? That was one of the problems she had with humans – they were so self-centered!
Across the highway and into the quiet bustle of a pre-coffee corporate America. Here, she received the occasional sidelong glance, which she returned with a hardy glare. These people offered her nothing and, in return, she would give them nothing.
She stopped under the cool glow of a Starbucks Coffee sign and reached into the pocket of her jacket that held the white phone. She pulled out a handful of bills and smoothed them out to count them.
"I need to get paid more," she muttered as the total came up frighteningly low. "You would think, in my line of work…" Shaking her head, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The heat was on inside and she gave an involuntary shudder as the sudden shift in temperature. The barista behind the counter, a tiny little thing with red hair and sharp grey eyes, gave her an appraising look. The girl shrugged herself deeper into her coat and glared sullenly at the woman as she walked up to the counter.
"I'll have an Italian soda," she said quietly, dropping a five-dollar bill onto the counter. "Raspberry flavored… please," she added as an after thought. The woman took her money with a nod and a false smile and her customer stepped to the side. She pulled the handheld phone out of her pocket and dialed with the thumb of the hand that held the phone. The other was still buried in its respective pocket, the fingers wrapped around the traveler that had once again fallen asleep.
"This is Meia," she said into the receiver, her voice even. "Good morning, ma'am. Did you sleep well?" The barista handed her a foam cup and Meia took it, not even bothering with the change the woman held out in her other hand. She turned away and crossed the room to a small table in a corner of the coffeehouse.
"Good," she commented as she sat down and set the cup on the tabletop. She removed her other hand from her pocket and let the sleeping form of Donalbain roll onto the table. It uncurled itself, stretching out its tail first, then the rest of its body. It yawned as it arched its back, displaying a row of sharp teeth, evolution's answer to the feline love of fresh meat.
"My superiors know you survived the night," stated Meia, grinning slightly as the small cat-like creature sniffed the glass table, then turned its attention to the soda. "It may be a prime time for you to disappear for a bit. No, I understand that the summit is near, but Demetrius won't believe me for very long." Donalbain raised himself up on his hind legs and rested his tiny front paws on the edge of the cup, so that he could lean in and peer down into the smoky liquid. "I say this in your best interest, Miss Darl- no, I understand, but your head of security, no matter how well trained he is, cannot be prepared for what will be in store if my superiors decide to send a better force than myself after you. I spared you because I believe in the fragile peace you fight for, but, in my line of work, I am one of a few. This is your only warning – I'm sorry." She hung up the phone with a disgusted sigh at the same time that Donalbain leaned too far forward and tumbled head first into the soda. He was out before Meia could react and he went streaking for her chest, yowling so loud it brought the attention of the few early morning patrons and the barista. Meia wrapped her coat tightly around herself and the shaking, wet form, and smiled weakly.
"This place has some really big rats," she commented idly, reaching for her soda. She raised it in a mock toast and took a sip, attempting to the best of her ability to ignore the cat hair that floated on the surface. Donalbain began struggling, unhappy again with the place where he had ended up, and she decided it was high time she moved locations. She stood and smiled warmly at the people still watching her as she dropped the soda in the trashcan and sprinted out of the door. She made it all the way across the street and into a park before Donalbain slipped out. He landed feet first in a fountain, which had been her goal, but couldn't jump out due to the depth of the water. She slid her jacket from her shoulders and scooped him up with one hand.
"Stupid Felitty," she chided, dropping him onto her coat, where he crouched and sulked with a glare in his green eyes. "I can't even have a conversation without you getting in trouble. Good god." He regained his composure and sat up, glaring at her still. She sat down next to him on the edge of the fountain and scratched the top of his head with one fingernail. "Well, we've done it again, Donalbain," she stated, changing the subject. "We won't have a home to go to, at this point in time. What do you think we should do?"
"You could join us." With a surprised gasp, Meia whirled, lost her balance, and almost ended up in the fountain. Donalbain hissed, slipping into instant guard-cat mode as Meia scrambled to her feet to face the person that stood behind her. It was boy, someone not more than her age, with strangely arranged hair and eyes as green as her cat's. He stood there, quietly, until she was calm enough to demand,
"Who the hell are you?!" That didn't seem to be the right question, because he tilted his head to the side and almost seemed to frown at her.
"You let Relina Darlin live – why?" The subject caught her so off guard, she almost fell over again. Instead, she found herself with her hand underneath the back of her shirt, the hilt of the knife suddenly lying heavily against her skin.
"I asked first," she stated with cold politeness. "Tell me who you are and I'll tell you why I spared the woman."
"My instructions were to recruit you, Ms. Meia, not give you my life story," he answered flatly.
"Recruit me for…?" she inquired, her fingers wrapping around hilt.
"The Hill Organization, which you currently work for, was once responsible for the breeding and genetic re-engineering of children," he said blandly. "The group I work for is attempting to find these children so that the Hill Organization may not reap the rewards for what they have sewn. You are one of the most skilled infiltrators in the system." He didn't need to say what it was that he specifically wanted. It was all very, very clear to her what would be required. For a moment, however, she stood and watched him – it wasn't that she wanted to betray the Hill Organization. They had given her a job, and trained her, they paid her and housed her, and her mentor, Macduff, had been the one to give her Donalbain, who was her constant companion. But Macduff was dead, long since taken by the darkness that claims everyone, and her new superiors… well, with any luck, they had sent someone to kill her, since she had failed her mission.
"How do I get in contact with your organization?" she questioned quietly, slowly letting her hand fall back to her side. He gave a firm nod.
"You already have a way," he answered. Donalbain gave a sudden, low hiss, drawing Meia's attention to him. The small cat was all but spitting in the direction of the newcomer, his back arched, every hair on end. It was so unlike the felitty that she turned back – the boy was gone. Meia sword loudly and drew her knife without even thinking. In the shadows of the early morning sunlight, the blade glittered like the dangerous tool it was, sharp and deadly. The muscles in her form arm twitched, causing the tattoo that traced her pale skin to twitch, like leaves in the wind. For minutes on end, she stood in that position, waiting for an attack that would not come…