I heard their screams in the middle of the night. I was fourteen at the time, and I had no idea what was happening. Standing up from my bed, I could just see a car pulling out of the driveway. Thinking it was nothing, I walked slowly down the stairs.
My parents were on the floor, a knife between them, and a pool of blood underneath their lifeless bodies.
My mom's red hair almost looked like the blood. My dad's black hair, on the other hand, was a black contrast to the red on the linoleum.
I ran through the door and grabbed my mom's cell phone. She had already tapped out the message on the touchscreen keyboard, so all I had to do was press the send button.
Their deaths had been expected. There was no time for mourning. I had to do what I had been trained for: to follow and kill Louise Rentradt.
The front door was wide open, and I could feel the cold air blowing in at me. My black leather jacket flew off the hangar and slipped itself on my body. Other than that, I was wearing the dark jeans I had worn the day before, and a white tee shirt. I ran outside, my neck-length black hair blowing in the wind.
As soon as I was on my Skybike, I was flying.
My Skybike was black with a single blue stripe going the middle, and about the size of a motorcycle. However, it looked much sleeker than a motorcycle, with a faint blue light where the wheels should be. It flew over 300 miles per hour, and could fly up to a mile in the air. It had cost around 400,000 dollars, but with my parents pay, it didn't even put a dent in our family savings.
Flying through New Chicago, I could see everything. From far away, it looked beautiful, with blue lights emanating from almost building in the city. However, as soon as you get close, you realize that it isn't as beautiful as you first thought; it looks run down, with garbage in the streets and the less fortunate sleeping in groups on the sidewalk.
I flew through the streets of the city, disgusted by the stench rising from the streets below, until I saw a car, an old 2037 Frickter, driving down a dark street. I followed him until he parked his car in front of a run-down hotel.
As soon as the Skybike was parked and off, I rushed inside of the hotel.
The place looked worse on the inside, and since I wasn't wearing socks or shoes, I could feel the cold, wood floor beneath my feet.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked.
She looked to be about fourteen years old. Her hair had a strange style to it. It was short, except for a single section in the back, which was brought over her shoulder and reached just below the bottom of her chest. She didn't look like a normal receptionist, wearing a pink blouse and, from what I could see, blue jeans.
“I'm Chaos Rose,” I said to her. “I'm here to see Louise Rentradt?”
“Oh, thank God,” the receptionist said. “ I was afraid you would want to check in, and I probably would have had to kill you. I'm the one you're supposed to meet. My name is Lilith. What's yours?”
“My name is Chaos,” I replied. “I'm being completely serious.”
“Oh,” Lilith said. “That's an interesting name. Anyway, we should probably go up there now. We don't want her to suspect something.”
“Why would she suspect something?”
“Because she's expecting somebody to try to kill her. If nobody shows up, he's gonna think something's up, and jump ship.”
“Then let's go,” I said.
Running up the stairs in the hotel, Lilith told me her story.
Lilith had been born into a family of assassins, much in the same way I had. However, after she had been trained, she killed her parents. They had wanted her to quit, but she liked killing too much. Then, she became a full-time assassin, with contacts all over the world, although she liked jobs in the U.S. Best, since they were easier to get to.
She had met my parents on a job, and they had asked her to team up with me when the time came that I would have to become an assassin.
And when that day came, we worked together perfectly.
“I'll get us in,” said Lilith, her girlish, high-pitched voice already getting on my nerves.
I pulled out a pistol and pointed it at the door.
While knocking on the door, Lilith yelled, “Louise Rentradt? I have a private message for you. Could you open the door?”
The door creaked open, and a woman, maybe in her mid-thirties, stood behind it.
Pointing the gun at her, I said, “Louise, walk backwards now. If you make any noise, you die. If you try to run, you die. If you do anything we didn't tell you to do, you die. That includes speaking.”
The lady slowly backed into the hotel room. I could see tears slowly forming in her eyes.
“Any last words?” I asked her.
“How could a boy your age be so terrible?” she asked.
“Simple,” I replied. “It makes me feel fucking amazing.”
And with that, I pulled the trigger on the handgun.
2 YEARS LATER...
“Chaos,” Lilith said as the two of us stared at our latest assignment in amazement. “It's not possible...”
“Unless we failed,” I replied with disbelief in my voice.
For on that napkin, left in the garbage can of a small diner on the outskirts of town, was scrawled a name in the worst handwriting imaginable.
And that name was Louise Rentradt.
TO BE CONTINUED