Author's note: The feedback for the first chapter was great, thank you so much! I hope you like this chapter and review again :)
So this chapter is in the POV of Striker's friend Art from the first chapter. The next chapter will be back to Striker's POV and you'll get to see the outcome of the end of Chapter 1.
Just a warning that the story may change to a few different POV's to get into different character's minds, but Striker and Art will be the main two.
Artemis
One thing assassins have to learn to be good at is being patient. Stalking your target and learning their routine can take a while and without that you stand no chance of easily killing them. Patience is essential – three words I have heard over and over again as I've grown up.
I am usually quite good with waiting around and being patient but so help me God I'm not right now.
It didn't take me long to get back to the guild, all I had to do was find one of our grates on the ground in a dark alley and make sure that I hadn't been followed. You see, the government and the net expect us to be living in some grand stadium far out in the country somewhere, maybe even hidden in the desert or the woods or a rainforest, but the truth is we're right below their feet. Literally. We live underground in a society that was built during the war. We have everything we need here, and more.
The training facilities are the biggest section of our so-called home, with the hospital wing being second. Right now I am in a bed in the hospital wing, having been lucky enough to be given a private room because of my standing with Medea.
When I arrived at the hospital wing, all my demands to see Medea immediately were completely ignored. The nurse focused on getting my gunshot wound seen to and stitched up, gave me a blood transfusion because of all that I lost, and finally, only after she was sure I'm going to be okay, did she say that she'd send word to Medea that I was in the hospital wing and needed to see her as soon as possible.
That was over an hour ago. My patience is wearing thin and not only that but I feel like I'm going to drive myself crazy. I have always hated staying still for long periods of time so being in the hospital now is like my own personal prison. I am also making myself feel worse by thoughts of Striker and the fact he let himself get captured so that I could get away.
Why did he do that? I could have fought for however long I needed to and yes, it probably would have ended up badly for both of us, but I hate that I went along with his plan and just left him there. He never would have left me behind, despite us always being told to put ourselves first.
I remember the first time I met Striker when we were both six years old. He'd already been in Medea's care for a few years before I arrived on the scene so he gladly helped me get into the routine of things. We had a connection straight away; we just seemed to understand each other. We became very close friends at such a young age and not even Medea could keep us apart.
I guess I could call Striker my best friend. My only friend. He's the only person that I trust with everything. I mean yeah I have secrets from him, things that I don't talk about to anybody, but I know that when I'm ready to talk he'll be the one I go to.
Correction: He would have been the one I'd go to. Now he's most likely going to end up in prison for at least a couple of years and after that, who knows what will happen to him? Most of the time if one of us is released from prison, Medea has one of her bodyguards visit that person and wipe their memories of where the guild is from their mind. Once an assassin has been captured, Medea never lets them back into the guild in case they have a repeat performance or can no longer be trusted. That assassin then has no contact whatsoever with any of us ever again.
I'm terrified that I'll never see Striker again.
The door to my hospital room swings open and Medea finally walks in, one of her personal bodyguards behind her. Her guards are pretty much anonymous, dressed in black cloaks that cover armour underneath, their hoods pulled down so low nobody can see their faces. I'm surprised they can even see anything to protect her properly.
As always, Medea is stunning. She is tall and thin, the kind of body a supermodel would have if being a model was still a job like it was before the war. Whereas the rest of us always wear black, Medea always wears white. Today she is in a perfectly white pants suit and blazer, with a white shirt underneath and white heels on her feet. The whole outfit screams elegance and perfection. Her auburn hair falls down to the bottom of her back, naturally straight and not a strand out of place. She welcomes me with a smile, her green eyes sparkling.
I have always been in awe of Medea, not just because of her beauty but because of her power. She created the assassin's guild during the war after she realized that the world would never be the same again and some people really did not deserve to continue living after the mistakes they made. She was only twenty when she created the guild and now, at the age of thirty-five, she is one of the most powerful women in the world. Even if people don't know what she really looks like or where she lives.
She's somewhat like a mother to me.
Ordinarily, the youngest Medea lets people join the guild is eighteen. And even then, they have to have some sort of history or reputation that's enough for her to have the person hunted down and recruited. She makes sure all her assassins get the training they need and, depending on how much training they needed in the first place, they eventually take a series of tests that determine whether or not they're good enough for the guild. If they pass, they're in; if they fail, their memories are wiped and they're kicked out.
However there are six exceptions to this age rule: myself, Striker, Athena, Cassandra, Dagger, and Archer. Three boys and three girls. We six were only children when we were brought here. We all came from terrible backgrounds and neglectful families, so Medea rescued us from that and gave us a better life here and a new name that meant something to us.
Myself and Dagger were six when we were brought here and we both roughly remember our lives before although neither of us talk about it. The others don't remember their lives before Medea saved them because they were younger than six and the memories didn't stick, so I don't think they'll ever be as eternally grateful towards her than me and Dagger are.
Medea raised all six of us and taught us everything we know. She calls us her children even though none of us are biologically related. I'm hoping that this personal connection between us is what will get her to forget her rule of getting ourselves out of our own mess just this once, that she'll help get Striker before he's executed or put in prison.
"Hello dear," she stands at the bottom of my bed, her faithful guard behind her. "I am glad to see that you're okay. I was terribly worried when I was informed you'd come back here with a gunshot wound. Evidently the assignment didn't go as well as your usual ones do."
"That's why I wanted to speak to you," I say, fully aware and ashamed of how desperate I sound. Desperation is weakness and I hate myself for it right now. "Somebody betrayed us, Medea. The FBI – at least I think it was them – knew that we'd be there and they ambushed us. I don't know who betrayed us but I want permission to find out and to punish that person however I see fit."
"Permission granted," she replies immediately. Her voice is always soft and quiet, even when she's angry. She doesn't sound angry right now though; it's normal for people to want payback for a betrayal.
"There's also something else," I say. She tilts her head to the left and raises her eyebrows, signalling for me to continue. "Striker got caught while we were trying to get away." I leave out the fact that he ignored an important part of our training. It's not like I'm lying completely to her face. "Medea, I know that you always say that if we get caught, it's our own problem and we're left on our own and that you don't help us. But Striker... He doesn't deserve to be executed or locked in prison! You know that he's amazing at what he does and that he should have a second chance. Please, Medea. I'm begging you to work your magic and get Striker back."
I don't realise that I'm crying until Medea sits on the edge of my bed and wipes a tear from my face. "Artemis," she says in a strict tone but still in that soft voice. "No, I will not help him."
"But-"
"I said no. Those rules are in place for a reason. If I help one person, I will be expected to help others. Striker is like a son to me and it pains me dearly that chances are, we won't be seeing him again. Oh, Artemis. Don't cry. Assassins don't cry, how many times over the years have I told you that?"
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "It's just that Striker's the only person here that I trust, that I work well with. How am I going to do this without him?"
"Very easily. You are a strong young woman, just like I raised you to be, and you don't need a young man in your life to make you feel strong and capable of your job," she tells me. "This is exactly why I always say, especially to my children, that you shouldn't ever let yourself get too attached to someone. Getting too attached just ensures that you'll be hurt when things go bad. The others manage that, I never could understand why you and Striker couldn't put a little distance between you both.
"Of course I want Striker back. But if that's going to happen, he has to do it himself. I don't want you going out there trying to track him down and find out what's going to happen to him. It'll only hurt you more. That's an order, do you understand?"
I slowly nod my head and mumble a promise to her that I won't try and help Striker come back.
As Medea leaves not long after, I feel terrible.
This may just be the first time I've ever gone against one of Medea's order and although I feel guilty about it, I know that he would do the same thing for me.
Artemis
I wake up in the middle of the night and straight away I can feel the warm energy of somebody else in the room with me. Sitting up and expecting to find a nurse here, I am surprised to Cassandra, my 'adopted' sister, sat in the blue leather chair beside my hospital bed.
"Jesus, Cass," I curse, my hand going to my chest as I jump at the sight of her eyes staring straight at me through the darkness. "What the hell are you doing here?"
I'm not overly attached to Cassandra – I don't think anybody really is to be frank, she creeps a lot of people out – although I feel some sort of affection for her. I used to be quite protective of her, almost like a proper big sister, until she joined me and Striker on a hard assignment a few years ago and took out five people in the blink of an eye. It made me realize that despite her small, petite body, she is entirely capable of looking out for herself and doesn't need my protection.
At just fifteen, she looks a lot younger. Short blonde ringlets frame her face; she has chubby cheeks and bright blue eyes, and just has a vibe of vulnerability and innocence about her. Aside from when she's in a fight of course.
"Oh I did not mean to scare you," she says now in her high voice, her accent sounding rather posh and her words old-fashioned. That was another thing that made her so strange and made her stick out like a sore thumb. "I sincerely apologize for that, especially in the condition you are currently in. I was simply sleep-walking I think, for when I woke up I was in here."
"Right," I nod. "That makes sense." Cassie has had a habit of sleep-walking ever since I can remember, probably ever since Medea brought her here when she was four.
"I'm sorry about Striker," she says to me.
"You heard about that, huh?"
"Oh no," she shakes her head. "I saw it happening a few days ago, you both being betrayed and him being captured so that you could get away. I alerted Medea straight away obviously. I rather hoped she would tell you and stop you both from going so that the future changed, but alas it must have slipped her mind."
Cassandra, like her namesake from Greek mythology, has prophecies and visions of the future. Striker also has visions of the future, although his can be rather unpredictable and spontaneous. Cassie on the other hand is constantly seeing various possible outcomes of the future, so much so that she sometimes finds it hard to discern what's the present and what's the future, and often just has a sense of what the future holds in store for somebody.
"Wait, you had a vision of Striker being captured and Medea didn't even bother to tell us?" I'm shocked. If Medea really did care about our welfare as much as she says she does, why didn't she stop us from going on that assignment? She could have totally prevented Striker from being captured and me from being shot if she had. And why didn't she mention it earlier when I first told her what had happened? It just doesn't make sense.
"I don't understand it either," Cassie replies, easily figuring out where my thoughts are. "Perhaps she simply forgot. Whatever her reason, I am sure it is justified and that she had every right to not to tell you and Striker." She stands up, smoothing her hands down the ruffled pink nightgown she wears. "I am going to head back to bed, Art. I have an assignment and have to get up early to stalk my target on her day-to-day routine. I am glad you are okay, make sure to give yourself time to heal before you get back to work." She smiles sweetly at me – the smiles are always sweet and innocent when they're coming from Cassie – and heads over to the door.
"Wait!" I call out. She stops and turns back to look at me. "Have you seen anything else today about Striker? About what's going to happen to him?"
She shakes her head. "I do not know what the punishment for his crimes will be but if I do see anything I will come and find you to let you know. I have seen one thing about him though: he's going to have a family."
"What do you mean?" I frown in confusion. "Is he going to have children? Or like, parents and that?"
"He's going to have a proper family at last. He will be very happy with them," she concludes. She leaves the room then without another word.
I don't say goodbye to her. I'm confused about 'Striker having a proper family' but I am grateful she told me of the vision. Plus, I'm too lost in my thoughts to bring myself to thank her.
I keep thinking of possible scenarios or excuses Medea could have that warrant her practically letting Striker get caught but none of them seem like valid reasons for such a horrible outcome.
It really does make me wonder: is our betrayer somebody close to us that we never, in a million years, would have thought of accusing?
