Chapter 1
Inconspicuous. She had to be inconspicuous. She fidgeted with the silver bangles on her wrists, her eyes flitting over the entire room. The ballroom could've been made of gold, the drapes a deep shade of red with gold lining. A large fountain spewed sparkling water that glimmered beneath the light of the chandelier. The large double doors were held open by two men who greeted the guests. A balcony lined the walls, the second floor. Even the doors were a beautiful gold with a deeper shade of the color for the designs. It was beautiful. It held something dangerous, though.
A stage with red velvet carpet was at the front of the room, where an elderly man started to climb three stairs to reach the microphone. He took the microphone from the stand, and cleared his throat to get the attention of the socializing people. As soon as it echoed across the large room, silence followed quickly. Everyone stared, the women wearing the softest silk, the men wearing glossy black ties. It was a ball, but it's kind of obvious with the large banner that had been hanging up high above the doors. The Charity Ball.
There had better been large donations, for most everyone who milled around with their dates had thousands upon thousands of dollars they weren't going to use. She was sure she looked like she had money as well, as did the rest of the team. She herself was startled by her appearance.
The sweetheart neckline arched down, the navy blue color making her crystal blue eyes shine as bright as the fountain water. It was tight against her chest, drifting loosely in layers from mid-stomach down to the tip of her heels. A silver belt wrapped around her stomach, dividing the loose bottom from the tight bodice. Silver earrings dangled from the lobe of her ear, brushing her neck when she turned her head to the side. Her soft, brown hair was tucked so that it all sat on her right shoulder. It was curled into perfect ringlets. She looked absolutely stunning.
Too bad it wouldn't last much longer. She stopped her nervous fidgeting, turning to look at the man. He cleared his throat again, but not for effect. He looked amongst the different faces, glancing directly at her for a single moment. He moved on instantly.
"We have a special guest tonight," he said, and the crowd murmured with curiosity. He calmed them by clicking his tongue. The crowd grew silent again. A single pin could drop and it would echo against the golden walls. Her eyes shifted to the familiar person standing on the balcony. Her red hair stood out like the shiny glass chandelier, matching the blood red gown she wore. She nodded slightly, staring back at the girl.
"Dr. Griffith Cane," he sidestepped, applause filling the room as the man himself strode onto the stage. He moved next to the man, and smiled a winning smile. He had lines on his face from years of labor, years of exhaustion. His hair was graying, despite his look of being only in his thirties.
"It is great to be here, Jerold," he replied earnestly. It seemed as if his eyes immediately found hers, lingering long enough to make her heart rush into a constant drumming. She moved hastily, apologizing to multiple people as she shoved her way through.
Her heart thrummed faster. She placed her small, thin fingers against her chest, feeling the flutter of her heartbeat. She finally found the end of the crowd, heading up the velvet stairs. She felt a wave of ease to know she hadn't gotten the attention of many.
She caught up with the red-head she knew by the name of Rebecca. She nodded at a door with a beautiful gold background, a deeper gold that looked like a light brown swirling along the wood. The girl stepped inside, closing the door softly. Just as expected, a large black bow and a matching quiver full of silver-pointed arrows sat on a brass table. Guns lined the walls with a few empty spots. Rebecca had already prepared herself.
She swung the quiver over her shoulder, cross her upper back. She pulled an arrow out, notching it and pushing out the door carefully. She went to stand beside Rebecca, who was staring down at a man. At the target. She looked at her, her eyes glimmering with mixed emotions.
She knew that Rebecca felt everything she did. Nervous, Fearful, and Adrenaline. The girl looked at her a second more before turning back to the man. She pulled back, her knuckles brushing her cheek, her sweaty palms against the cool metal of the bow. She aimed at the man, and released the tension in her arms. The arrow slid past her hands, flying in slow motion toward the man. As he turned to aim the gun's point directly on the elderly man, it sunk deep into his chest, straight through the heart. Screams filled the room, the gun clattering to the floor. He fell to his knees, his mouth wide with horror. His eyes drained of life, and he fell forward. Dead.
"We have to leave," Rebecca spoke frantically. She pushed her lightly, waking her out of her horror stupor. Her eyes shined with a feeling well known as dismay. Rebecca looked afraid, security running into the center of the room, some training their guns on them. She saw the rest of the team run out as if afraid, acting their part.
"Gracelyn!" Rebecca screeched as a gunshot exploded into the wall, and she could tell it was an inch from her head. She was instantly grabbing Rebecca's arm and dragging her down the stairs roughly. Guards came at them, but with Rebecca, they were punched and kicked into unconsciousness.
Gracelyn didn't hesitate to aim at the chests of the men, shooting most of them down. She killed three with one shot, three arrows. She reached the door, but Rebecca was still behind, fighting a guard. It almost seemed as if she were losing, but she proved herself to be stronger than she seemed by hitting the side of her hand against his throat, making him choke on air. She stomped his toe with the stem of her heel, and he hunched over to reach his foot while he wheezed. She clocked him in the head, and he crumpled to the ground. She looked to Gracelyn and they both ran forward, running out the door and toward the safe house.
Gracelyn and Rebecca both let their shoes come off, the heels making it difficult to escape. It wasn't long after that the other girls caught up, and they ducked down an alley. Slowing to a walk, they continued on. Sirens wailed down the street behind them, making Gracelyn's pulse jump lightly.
It wasn't long after the sirens had droned off in the distance did they enter an old, abandoned warehouse. Gracelyn lead them through the halls until they breached a large, thick metal door with a symbol warning them of toxins. She barged inside, and was already pulling off the dress carefully as she strolled through the room.
She laid the dress delicately across the surface of a counter, pulling a gray v-neck over her head. She ran her fingers through her free hair and pushed the television button, and the screen was fuzzy for a few seconds before lighting up with color. Already on the news channel.
A pair of two girls murdered a man at the Charity Ball just an hour ago. After the police identified the man, and his weapon, they've come to a conclusion. The two were not criminals, but heroes. The man was Jack Louis; a man who had attempted to gun down New York City's Mayor but killed the Police Chief instead. He was attempting tonight to assassinate the Manager of New York City Bank, who indeed ran the Charity Ball himself. We thank you to those two women, for saving our kind, Charity-donating bank executive, Lenard Jones
All of their jaws were slack, their eyes wide. Including Gracelyn. She was the first to clamp her mouth shut, for the door swung open. A man with graying hair and a familiar face entered.
"Heroes indeed," he spoke with intelligence, and he walked straight to Rebecca and Gracelyn. But his eyes ran over all of their seven faces. He touched the face of a girl named Charlotte but he spoke to all of them.
"Well done, ladies," he congratulated, but Gracelyn could tell his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than the others. She looked down with a blush, but gritted her teeth to look into his eyes with confidence.
"We couldn't have done without the likes of you, Dr. Cane," she replied earnestly, almost as he had to Mr. Jones. But when she spoke to him, it came naturally. He had known what to say to Lenard. She didn't have to.
She didn't hide from her creator, just like Frankenstein's Monster hadn't hid from him. Cane would've been upset to have her compared to a monster, but it only seemed fair. She was extraordinary, yes. But she was made, not born the way she was.
Gracelyn wasn't even an original. Her life was altered because Cane had wanted to create his own "Avenging Heroes". And he had out of the seven girls. But he'd said they were advanced compared to the Avengers. She didn't doubt that. She just felt like she was copyrighting a person, taking his life and claiming it for her own.
Was that okay? Stealing someone's identity and shaping someone else's out of it? She didn't dare think of the man in front of her as someone horrid, he was much to kind. He was too open. He was too much of a father to her for her to question him.
But there was the small corner in her mind that only ever spoiled his image with unanswered questions, the bad part of her mind she had to scold every day. And here she was, staring shamefully at the floor because of her thoughts. Because of her betraying mind. She felt guilt wrap around her tight even though he couldn't possibly know her thoughts.
At least she hoped.