Chapter 3: Growing Darkness and Fading Light
She looked at the stars; seeking solace from them. It was her final night in Ireland; she had completed the exam to her 'tutor's' satisfaction. The stars offered her some measure of peace; she existed in two worlds now: one of light and life, the other of darkness and death.
She noticed a few things had changed in the course of two months, especially since she had that black out in England three weeks ago. She didn't fell as ill as she used to after an exam, she could successfully push away all thoughts, and she no longer felt so guilty. She didn't think she felt anything at all anymore; she lacked both emotion and feeling, she could even watch a target die without feeling anything. She whispered a prayer to whatever higher power was listening if there were any that would listen to her; for help because she was too used to killing and death now.
She would cry if she could; but what was the point of that. She wondered if Death would cry for the lives that it ended.
Tomorrow she would board a civilian flight back to the States; Danny would pick her up at the airport and take her back to the base. That was tomorrow; tonight was hers alone. Her 'instructor' had left her to herself since his job was finished. This one had been the worst; ruthless and cruel, but his reputation was well known, He never missed a target.
Over the past two months, she had discovered several mysteries about what they had done to her and she wondered if the others were the same. She'd learned that in addition to what she was aware of; she possessed some sort of advanced regenerative capabilities. A quick healing ability that worked with in 24 hours on shallow superficial flesh wounds; such as cuts, but bullet wounds and anything else still required medical attention. She had learned this on a night like this; a night that belonged only to her and her penance.
She had wandered out of the town into a quiet place of grassy knolls where the stars were easier to make out. She sat on one of the knolls and pulled a knife from her pocket. Slowly and carefully she drew the blade across her wrist. She watched the blood flow and wished to feel something. The bite of the blade, guilt, anger, or remorse at what she'd done; but still she felt nothing.
Ten days passed since that night in Ireland; it was the first full unit mission in three months, their objective was the detainment or termination of a particularly ruthless third world dictator. They had been told that the people were suffering and this guy liked executions with his breakfast.
The dark night sky stretched out above, overcast and no sign of the moon or the stars. Such a thing would ultimately work out in their favor. Ian, Christian and Jon met up with Scarlett, Lucius and Antonio with in the perimeter of the compound. Ian's group was in charge of artillery; if they were seen, they'd be in charge of the cover fire. Scarlett's group were the 'sweepers', they had entered by the main gate and taken out what guards and security systems that they encountered. Hector and Alex arrived a few seconds after the lights went out signaling the completion of their task.
A few seconds after the lights went out the remaining guards opened fire on the approaching pair. It prompted the start of an all out fire-fight that served as a perfect distraction. With the focus all on returning fire while trying not to get hit, no one notice the shadow that slinked off into the main house.
Ian signaled for a head count and was startled when Hector signaled back that they were short by one. Glancing around, he noticed that he didn't see Scarlett anywhere. If she had gotten away from the fire- fight then she would head into the house after the objective. She was silent and both proficient and efficient in her work; he could trust her to get the job done, all they needed to do was continue to provide the distraction.
She slipped like a shadow into the bedroom; listening all the while to the breathing and snoring on the dark. She was surprised this guy was still asleep with all that racket going on outside; but then her hearing was better than the average person's was. Within seconds she was standing by the bed, taking her knife she put it to his throat.
Nothing like cold metal to wake someone up; he startled, staring at the knife and the beautiful woman holding it. This creature, this being was too beautiful to be mortal in his mind; this was an angel of death. She said nothing, only stared at him with darkened, cold eyes before she swiftly pulled the knife across his throat.
The arterial spray of blood splattered on the carpet; some on the wall and on her.
She shook her head as if to clear it and put her hand to her temple. She didn't know how she had ended up in the house or the bedroom and how she was now covered in blood; only seconds ago she had been in the court; in the middle of a fire fight and then it had gone blank. She looked to the body in the bed; somehow she knew that she had killed him, but she couldn't remember doing it. Absently she recalled El's instruction about the defense mechanism that all people had to block out certain memories, but then why didn't she remember leaving the court and entering the house. It was too many questions for her to answer especially since her mind was hazy. She noticed that the fire- fight must have stopped since everything was now quiet.
Ian looked up as she approached; his first instinct was to see to her when he saw the blood, but he saw no wound. The thought that he just had filled him with a cold dread as he watched her. She walked up to him before saying;
"It's not mine," she said of the blood.
Ian wanted to scream, yell and curse. He had known that there was something different, something wrong about her. Irons truly deserved a place in hell if he'd spent three months driving her to assassination. He knew that this was the specialized training, but something scared him just now. Her voice was totally devoid of any emotion or feeling.
Once they had gotten back on base; she had withdrawn to her quarters and refused any company. By dawn the next morning she was gone; Ian managed to track her to a thickly wooded area not too far from the base.
He found her sitting on a rock; knife in hand cutting across her arms. She had been there for a while, because she was working her way down from wrist to elbow.
"What are you doing?" he asked softly, taking care not to startle her.
"Penance." She replied. He was relieved to hear a note of sadness in her tone.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't feel anything."
"You probably wouldn't," he said; noting that her other arm was cut up and bleeding too, "At the rate you're bleeding, you'll probably pass out soon."
"I feel nothing, Ian. I felt nothing when I killed him."
"You must feel something or else why are you doing this penance?"
She simply looked at him and noted that her vision was blurring; he was probably right and she was loosing too much blood.
"If you feel nothing then why do you cry?"
"I don't know. I can't even remember what happened in that room or how I got into the house. It's like I blacked out; I was there, but I wasn't."
"Have you ever blacked out before, like this?"
"I have no history of this. The only time I ever blacked out was in England."
Ian wondered on that; it sounded like his first experiences with self-hypnotism. Had she somehow managed to hypnotize herself without her knowledge. He resolved to watch her closely; if she had done that and he could prove it. That might stop the tailspin of sanity.
By the close of the first year, he had observed that she did enter a trance-like state as she neared the target. She had been skeptical about hypnotism and the idea that she had done it to herself. It had been Danny who had successfully put her under several times before she copulated that he and Ian were right.
But the more Ian watched her; the more concerned he became. She had spent three months in the company of assassins. Physically and intellectually she had the training, she knew how to strike and at where; but psychologically she simply did have it in her. When she went into her trance she didn't employ any obvious or normal method of self-hypnotism.
It made him wonder if maybe she was reacting to a post hypnotic suggestion placed on her; and if she was then who made the suggestion. He could see the puppet; but where and who was the puppeteer.