prologue three
"I am the bullet and the hook.
I am cocked and held ready."
- Anne Sexton, "The Assassin"
iii.
Scarlet runs through the crevices of a plush carpet. A flood of maroon trickles through elegant fibers, carving out a sea of sanguine, steady waves never-ending.
Once the color of freshly fallen snow, the walls look like a toddler tried to explore their artistic genius with a paint brush dipped in crimson. A crescendo of splatters, smeared handprints, and bloody smiley-faces grace the lavish hallway. Garnet tears slide down the wall at a snail-like pace, desperately trying to join the expanding puddle of blood covering the walnut floorboards.
Niello grins to himself, a thin knife twirling between baby pink gloves.
Another job well done. Another mark to be tallied.
One doesn't grow up with dreams of murder. Killers are forged, not born.
He knows that fact all too well.
As a child, Niello wanted to become a jeweler. Or a perfumer. A victor. Hell, he even went through a singing phase. After one too many shattered crystalline glasses, his mother promptly shut that down.
Much like she usually does. Or well, did. She can't do much now, buried six feet under.
Niello kicks the cooling body at his feet, a familiar sight that has graced his vision these past few months. In the dark, when the stars are quiet and the sun sleeps, Niello dances with skeleton after skeleton. Everyone is a walking cadaver now, merely awaiting the sweet relief of his touch. He is Death Incarnate. A well-oiled machine programmed to seduce and kill and ruin.
Mother, are you proud?
Raphaél, are you happy?
A corpse lays face-down, mouth frozen in a scream that will haunt this penthouse for eternity. It's as if Medusa herself locked eyes with this once-woman, petrifying her into stone. Her blonde locks artfully spread out on the floor, resembling a golden halo. Ironic, considering this woman was once a devil in disguise. In this place, you're either a serpent or the flower with a serpent hidden underneath it.
Stepping over the now-dead woman, Niello makes his way to stand in front of the expansive windows that make up the entirety of the living room wall. The city dazzles beyond the windows, full of light and laughter. In the reflection of the glass, a sprite wears a mischievous grin.
Thousands of feet in the air, Niello watches the ant sized Capitolites go about their mundane activities. He feels like a God.
It feels correct.
Niello knows he should step away from the windows, too exposed to any wandering eyes. Raphaél would cluck his tongue in disappointment if he were here, ashamed that his star student would make such a careless mistake. But his trainer isn't here now, and Niello can do whatever he pleases. Maybe if he keeps on telling himself that, then he might actually feel like he has maintained some semblance of autonomy.
No matter, his disguise won't allow any voyeurs a clear image of his visage. Swathed in pink lace and wearing a jeweled venetian mask, Niello stands with his hands on his hips, basking in the artificial lights outside. To the unknowing eye, Niello is just another delicate pet ready to please their master for the night. A dainty thing trained in the art of sex and seduction - ready to arch their back and moan sweetly.
Bleh.
To think he actually had to sit through those lessons during his time at the Academy. Most of the time, he wouldn't even show up to class. Why waste his time with such a frivolous pathway, when Niello knew he would either enter the Games or become something more sinister. He wasn't born to be broken, to be offered up as a precious doll for the Capitol elite to abuse.
No. Niello's better than that. He's always been a step above his peers, obviously destined for greater things. Niello refuses to let his potential be wasted.
He knows that nobody else could've killed the woman behind him with such ease. Masquerading as a pet for sale at The Arcadia Club wore his patience thin, but once his mark for the night held up her betting paddle, Niello let out a helpless giggle. Compared to his other assignments, tonight's been a walk in the park. Gaining access to the Victory Party a few months ago had been his biggest challenge yet. Though, slicing Kissinger's carotid was well worth the trouble.
A loud, up-beat dance tune rouses Niello from his thoughts. The electronic pop reverberates through the opulent penthouse, shattering the silence. Niello feels buzzing on the inside of his robe, demanding his attention. He reaches his hand into the right pocket of the silk, toffee skin sliding along the baby pink fabric. Niello holds the mobile in front of him, screen flashing with a single word:
ZADDY.
Let them wait.
While the incoming call drones on, he wanders around the apartment, searching for a snack or whatever dirty secret his mark keeps hidden from the public eye. To be Niello is to be insolent even in the most important of situations. On the last note of the ringtone, Niello presses the accept button.
A voice speaks immediately, manipulated so that Niello can't tell the gender of the person on the other line. "Took you long enough."
Niello waits a few beats, swallowing the last of the rosemary crackers he found in the pantry. "Aw, sorry baby! I was kind of busy with a new friend." He gestures to the dead body behind him despite no audience.
"I assume you completed the assignment."
Straight to the point as ever.
"Don't I always?" Niello says sweetly, overly fake and playful.
"Send confirmation."
A lazy smirk forms on his lips. "If you wanted a dick pick, all you had to do was ask. Didn't have to send me to kill some bland-ass bitch first; kinky though, I like it."
"Send confirmation that the contract has been completed or payment will be withheld."
"What? I've never had to do that before," Niello is caught off guard, forgetting his bubble-pop façade. He's annoyed and quite frankly over tonight. Those freaks at the club didn't know how to keep their hands to themselves. Too many unwanted touches, caresses, kisses, and even slaps has left his senses on overload.
"Stop being difficult, Agent. It is imperative that we know Dolabella Carmichael has been taken care of," the voice asserts.
Niello rolls his eyes and lets out an overly dramatic sigh. "Ugh. Fine, whatever. I'll labor away for you. But this counts as overtime, asshole."
Niello moves away from the window and places the call on speaker, the holoscreen displaying the caller ID icon - one of the phallic variety. The sound waves from the call also dance in the air, moving with each change of pitch and frequency. The bright blue haze of the hologram lights up the dim room, allowing Niello to find the light switch near the kitchen counter.
Niello bends close to Dolabella's face, sticks out his tongue, and holds up a peace sign as he takes the picture. The flash of the camera casts the room in a cacophony of shadows, displacing the darkness for a moment. Once he sends the selfie and shuts off the harsh overhead lights, Niello jumps onto the bronze cushions of the couch stationed a few feet away from the dead woman.
Holy shit, this couch is comfortable.
As he lounges back on the pillows, Niello is tempted to take a quick power nap. He deserves some rest after tonight's success. Before he can shut his eyes though, a voice cackles through the mobile - sound waves leap in the air, twirling like the dancers training at the Academy all those years ago.
"Can you be professional for once?"
Niello smirks. "That one was for you daddy! Make sure to save it to your camera roll, I won't judge."
"If that's all," the anonymous speaker pauses. "We have your next assignment."
"Wait," Niello cuts off the other voice before it can list off the next bastard he has to kill. His curiosity gets the best of him.
"Why her?"
"Excuse me?"
"Why did you send me to kill the Communications Minister? She's nothing in the grand scheme of things. For the past few weeks, you've been making me run around this stupid city hunting down low-level officials that don't have enough power to warrant a hit," Niello gathers himself, he doesn't want to come off too eager. He's the one that makes people beg, after all. "What's your end-goal here?"
"That's none of your concern."
"Well, I am the one dicing these people up. I would say that deserves some recognition!" he pauses for maximum effect. "Do you know how far up my ass this thong is? It's visited places no person has ever been to before! Areas never explored! Never conquered!"
"Is your payment not satisfactory?" the voice calls out from the phone, not even a hint of emotion found. Niello wishes he could be in the same room as this mystery person just to see if his comments get under their skin. Just like how an addict in Six hungers for Morphling, Niello craves a reaction.
"I could care less about the money. I want answers."
The voice takes a few moments to reply, which makes Niello pout even more. "Answers will come in due time. Stay the course, Agent."
"Is that all you have to say? Really? You sound like an old man," Niello scowls. He's not a child. He's done the dirty work, it's about time he was awarded for his talents. "I'm sick of killing these nobodies. If you want to make a statement, let me kill the new Head Gamemaker! She'll be easy to carve up."
A tiny sigh escapes into the room, the hologram acting as a beacon of Niello's frustrations. Good. It seems as though he's finally gotten a response from this mysterious enigma. Niello is pleased; this one's been the hardest one to crack yet. It's always been easy for him to affect people, with his faux-innocence and pleading eyes. Trainers at the Academy. Peers. The occupants of One. Capitolites. Targets.
His mother.
"Your new assignment will be sent shortly. Do not disappoint us."
The call ends before Niello can object. He sits in the silence, listening to the quiet thrum of the city outside and surrounded by the silhouettes of nearby furniture. The darkness of the room is a sanctuary in that way, a place to recharge and forget the things he has done. Radiant colors barely streak through the wall of windows, preventing Niello from being totally undone by the thick shroud.
He's not sure how long he sits on the Minister's couch, staring out into the void, until a ding! notifies Niello of a new email. His mobile lays unmoved from the coffee table, just inches away from his fingertips. Niello shakes off his stupor, his mind finally coming back to his body.
"Display the new email."
His device responds immediately. The screen lights up and projects the communication that screams for his attention. Niello quickly reads over the information displayed in front of his brown irises.
Subject: Assignment #0738
From: [encrypted_email_address_unknown]
To: Niello Forbin [bubblegumbitch69_ ]
Agent,
Below you will find the name of your new target. Proceed with caution, they aren't your typical mark.
P.S. You asked for a challenge. Help us make a statement. Don't disappoint.
Target:
Aurora Elvey
First Lady of Panem
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Things just got interesting. So much more interesting. Niello feels his heart beat faster. His adrenaline skyrockets. His pupils dilate.
Above the bustling streets of the Capitol, sitting in Dolabella Carmichael's blood-soaked penthouse suite, Niello Forbin licks his lips and smiles broadly.
Don't disappoint.
Niello never disappoints. He doesn't plan to now.
Let the Games begin.
And we have another prologue that I forgot to post! Sorry y'all, had to get my party on or whatever it is that young adults do on the weekends.
With that being said, we finally meet our resident Imposter. Hope y'all have been enjoying so far. If you're so inclined, let me know your thoughts! I would love to get some feedback.
Prologue IV is due up next. Might even have a cast reveal or something, I don't know. Stay tuned to find out!
Until next time.