Chapter One
"We need her," Jamieson acknowledged, swilling his Scotch around his glass.
"She can't be controlled," Nettles responded shortly "She's as likely to turn on us as to fight for us."
"We don't need to control her; we need to unleash her," Jamieson stared hard into the fire "That woman was born to end lives."
"Yes, Brett is a gifted killer. But she threatens everything we've achieved," Nettles rubbed his chin agitatedly "Before me, there was nothing. And now we have hundreds of recruits, we have the entire city under our thumb. I am building the future, Jamieson. Me!" Nettles took a deep swig from the bottle of whisky at the side of his easy chair "She is the past. A woman who fights for nothing and no one. Nothing but revenge, anyway."
"And how many important men has she brought down with a single swipe of her legendary Sai?" Jamieson enquired "This will be the greatest target we have ever terminated. We need the best assassin."
"She will only listen to one person," Nettles looked up.
"Then summon them."
"He cannot be summoned," Nettles shook his head "Only waited for. We must set up a meeting. But I warn you," he leant back in his seat "He is not easily bought."
"And I am not easily deterred," Jamieson retorted "Set it up for first light tomorrow. Let us see this tamer of the untameable."
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"Mom?" the pretty teenage girl pushed her hair out of her eyes. Blood covered her hands as she shook her Mother gently from side to side. The bed linens, once a bright white, were now a deep crimson, from the liquid spilling from the wound deep in the woman's chest. "Mom!" she yelled, dropping down onto her knees, tears coursing down her face.
I have come for you…
"NO!" Brett awoke screaming, cold sweat dripping down her back. She downed the entire glass of water by her bed, and then moved to sit by the wall. Lately, she'd taken to painting the shadows away. Now her whole room, which was big even by her standards, was painted a pale blue colour. Downstairs someone emitted a happy shriek, followed by a loud guttural chorus of laughter.
The others were down there, drinking, shooting up and generally having what they considered to be a good time. Sometimes she'd find them still down there in the morning, only partially clothed, snoring and entangled, like a basket of stoned puppies. But she would not lower herself to be like them, her body was a temple and she intended to keep it that.
That is apart from the cocktail of tequila and sleeping pills she took on an almost nightly basis in a futile attempt to try and get some sleep. But it seemed that her brain either would not, or could not, switch off. And recently her dreams had been escalating; now she saw the faces of the people she'd killed as well as her own Mother's corpse.
She glanced over at the digital clock on her bedside table. The luminous yellow letters read 3:00am.
Pulling on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, she sauntered downstairs to the kitchens, trying to avoid running into any of the intoxicated others. Brett tugged open the fridge door, enjoying the cool feeling it provoked on her skin. Grabbing a carton of apple juice, she searched for a glass and poured it. She was just finishing it off when someone burst in. Her whole body tensed as Tex, just about her least favourite person in the world, walked into the room.
"Well," he smiled, but not in a drunken way as she had expected. He seemed completely aware of how uncomfortable he was making her "If it isn't just my favourite feline." He constantly drew lines between her and cats, because he seemed to think that she moved like one. "What's up, Kitty?"
She rolled her eyes "Why don't you just go back and have fun with your little hooker friends, Tex?"
"You see, I would," he smirked "But right now, I can sense that your heart is racing." She didn't even know why, but for some strange reason she was attracted to this asshole. He was hot, aesthetically, but as a person… Well, she'd already shared her feelings about that. "And we both know it's not because of the temperature." He stepped closer and she gripped her hand around her glass.
Suddenly he clamped a hand on either side of her waist, turning her to face him, and pulling her close. He kissed her passionately.
"Tex!" she exclaimed, wriggling away from his grip to move to the other side of the room "What the hell?"
"You know you want me, Brett," he smirked.
"Touch me again and you'll find out exactly what I want to do to you," she responded, through gritted teeth.
"Does it involve nudity?" Tex raised his eyebrows "Because if so, I'm in."
"Actually it's mostly centred on my sais," she smiled "In a very uncomfortable place. For you anyway."
"Like you'd dare," he said but she noticed he was trembling.
"Tex…" she trailed off as realisation hit her like a tidal wave "Are you afraid of me?"
"I'm not scared of you!" he exclaimed, crossing him arms "I could kill you anytime I wanted."
"No you couldn't," she shook her head "For one, I'd like to see you try and two, Nettles would have you hung, drawn and quartered."
"Whatever Brett," he scowled "Why don't you go back to your dumb paintings."
"I will," she agreed, walking past and pausing in the doorway "Don't get too wasted, Tex. Remember you've got that early assignment tomorrow," and with a satisfied smile, she headed back up to her room.