Chapter 3: The Missing (Ultron X Adayleah)
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"This little scamp? The new dove? Oh please.", he said.
He walks towards me, his muscular body leaning carefully over mine.
"She doesn't stand a chance here."
I form my hand into a fist, closing my eyes, breathing in and out.
But all I smell is the dirty scent of sweat and arrogance.
I wasn't afraid of his intimidation, or his threats, nor his build or his voice.
I was scared that I wound not be able to resist my temptations.
I was also afraid that... He might be right.
"Andrei, can't you pick on someone your own size? She's tiny, stop scaring her."
" I still don't get it.", he turns his head to look at Ekateri.
" It's been 6 weeks. Why hasn't the board kicked her...", he turns to look back at me, stepping even closer to me. He uses is rough, coarse hand to grab my butt, pulling me even closer to him.
"...poor little ass back to Red yet?"
And then I burst.
My vision goes foggy
My boiling blood gushes through my veins.
My heart pumps faster and faster, hammering in my chest.
I can feel a relentless cloud of heat surrounding my body.
It happens every time.
Then I strike.
A blink. An elbow to the knee.
A breath. A fist to the face.
A step. A foot to the chest.
A jump. Two feet on the shoulders.
A push. A body on the floor.
Silence.
I pull myself towards his face.
"Haven't you been in Red? Or has your ass of a brain forgot all the training there?"
He wimpers as I shove my boots up with slit of his pants.
"I don't think you'll last any longer either."
I stand up, walking away from the crowd that has gathered, from the daze of adrenaline.
I feel no guilt
I feel no pain
It's like waking from a dream
I hear heavy footsteps charging.
Behind me.
He knows nothing of stealth either.
I duck and slide back, watching his heavy torso and outstretched arms hit the concrete ground and stay there.
I like fighting
But I like winning even more
I don't love anything though.
It's not in my nature.
I've never been taught to love.
I stand there, behind the where Andrei lies on the ground, and breathe.
Breathing in, and out.
In and out.
Breathing in my new life.
The board gave me a physical examination a few weeks ago. They said that I would receive my first task within a month's time. I'm free to do anything within the training grounds until then.
Freedom.
It's strange.
There are so many rules you have to follow in order to be free.
Not that I have ever had a chance to taste it.
But little moments of freedom I am given the privilege to enjoy, I cherish.
At least I make myself believe I do.
I have dedicated much of my time in the gymnasium and the library. Gymnastics come in as a useful tool. Many try to be dominant in combat by being muscular, being strong, or being big. It's impractical. It's ineffective. It takes a long time to take effect. Being able to move around quickly and effectively give you a huge advantage. Studying the human anatomy and knowing the weakest points and areas of the human body makes defeating someone easier.
Studying other's weaknesses makes me feel stronger.
So that's how I've spent my freedom.
Training and studying.
It's hard to get out of a habit.
I decide to go back to my dorm that early after the little incident with Andrey, as I'm expecting some form of warning from the board. They believe in living in complete unison, as a pack. In order to achieve that, we must live complete harmony.
That's why we're doves
Graceful. Peaceful.
Dangerous. Deadly.
It's late anyways. I should head back.
My dorm isn't a luxury, but it's comfortable enough. I wasn't expecting much. I won't be spending much time in there. It's a small, concrete, corner room, with a small sink and a stove. The bed's rather old and made out of creaky, splintered wood. A crusty, old rag serves as a blanket, and the cotton pillow is embroidered with black birds and red flowers. A small oil lamp keeps the dorm warm, and white light tubes border the walls of the room.
It's rather far away from everything else; the training rooms, the cafeteria, the library...
It's located at most western point of the underground living quarters.
I like it there. It's quiet.
It's Saturday night. Those who are off duty spend their time at the pub, or at the great hall. No one is on or nearby the metal plated corridors leading to the west wing dorms. A few drunkened souls pass by, holding onto the side railings for support, desperately trying to reach for the doors of their dorms. Their footsteps heavy, and their heads light.
Once they reach their room, silence. Only the sound of my hair rubbing against the leather of my jacket echo through the tunnel.
Then suddenly, a young man, a few years older than I am, fall from the railings above, over my body, pushing me onto the ground. He lands on top of my fragile frame, his face millimetres from mine. I immediately register his striking appearance.
Dirty silver hair, black vest, padded motorcycle gloves, trackpants, laced boots. Tall.
Brown-red eyes.
Strong jaw.
Thick neck.
Obviously well trained.
"Pardon me."
But.. His voice..
"People don't just fall from the sky, sir."
"Well, I'm an exception."
Robotic?
"Because I'm not a person."
He doesn't get off me.
His cold fingers wrap around my arm.
The smooth fabric of his trackpants run against mine.
His foot locks into position.
I can't escape.
I look at him. He smiles.
"You've got strings, Adayleah."
I look around, hoping to find someone returning from the frenzy of a busy Saturday night. But I end up looking back right at him.
Right into his piercing bloodstained eyes.
"Do I?"
I sound vulnerable.
Weak.
He lifts his arm, and stroke the loose brown locks draping over my eyes, tucking it behind my ear.
Then a sharp but brief pain.
It hits me like a brick. His hand off my arm...
Is an open window.
I punch his jaw. His grip on my other arm loosens.
He groans.
I grab his feet, flipping him over. My legs are free.
I jump. I tuck. I land.
I run.
Some wind, rapid breaths, dense air.
I run.
But he doesn't follow.
Then pain.
A fall.
A light.
A dove.
Red eyes.
Feathers.
Then nothing.