‘CRACK!’

  Anastasia could feel the blow strike her cheek, snapping her head back and throwing her body into a tumble.

  ‘His face,’ she thought. The image of the man stuck in her mind. ‘Why did I freeze?’

  She saw him again. This time she readied her arm to gouge his eyes, but he caught her first. She gritted her teeth.

  ‘CRACK!’

  ‘Damnit, again?’ she thought as her body hit the glass, crashing through the window of the Amesworth building. ‘What’s with me? I should’ve lobotomized him by now.’

  The two reset. This time the woman’s finger’s pressed together—jabbing for his throat faster than ever before.

  But not fast enough.

  ‘CRACK!’

  As her neck twisted and vision grew hazy, she felt her thoughts fleeting away.

  Her promotion.

  Her assignment.

  But that man. His face. He and only he remained. A thought permanently stained on her subconscious.

  That man.

  ‘You,’ her vision sharpened and her head shot back. She thrust her jabbed fingers to the man, shooting them through his glared face. Before he could react, she was on top of him, stripping his face a way with her nails a fury of bloody swipes. Her were eyes beaded, staring at what once was the man as she continued to swipe.

  ‘You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, YOU, YOU—!’

  “M-miss Rosa, it’s time.”

  Anastasia’s eyes opened to the voice behind her. She slowly raised her head. She sat on a plain gray bed within a near barren compact room, occupied only by a pull-up bar on her left, and weights beneath it. She stood up, hearing the man in the doorway stiffen at her movement.

  “Where?” She asked.

  “P-point ZG!” He stammered. “M-Mr. Dark’s waiting in the debriefing room, Ma’am!”

  Looking over her shoulder, she went over to the dark suited and blue-tied man. She could see his knees slightly shaking while tensing his palms to keep them clasped together. She stopped a few feet in front of him. He seemed to stop breathing.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Y-y-yes?”

  “Are you going to escort me or continue to fidget like a child?”

  “Ye—NO! Err—I mean—I thought I…u-um…”

  “Ugh, you Blue’s scare way too easy!” Another female voice said.

  The man leaped to the side as a younger brown haired woman appeared behind him wearing a darker blue tie. She was dressed in a simple white dress shirt tucked into a belt, sleeves cuffed just above her wrists, and dark blue wide-legged pants hanging over ankle high black boots with matching checkered suspenders. She brushed her hair from her fair skin and adjusted her ponytail, letting two thick strands fall past her cheeks. She smirked at Anastasia.

  “Beat it, she’s mine.”

  “B-but Mr. Dark said—”

  “And I know he means well,” she said, leaning against the doorway. She chewed some gum in her mouth. “But she’s also on punishment, remember? I’ll take things from here so you don’t accidently give her an even bigger ego, ok?”

  The suited man looked at her, then Anastasia. He quickly nodded back to the brunette. “Yes, Miss Wollfe!”

  The man nearly bolted off, leaving the two alone. Anastasia stared at the younger woman, who continued to smirk at her, snapping her gum. Finally she got off the doorway and went into the narrow hall. She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Don’t want to keep Alastor waiting now don’t we, Rosa?”

  “You have no right to call him that, Jacklyn.”

  “That’s Miss Wollfe to you!” she snapped and turned around, nearly flinching to see Anastasia directly behind her. Her teeth grit, “You think you’re funny or something?!”

  “You told me to follow you.”

  Jacklyn slammed her hand on the wall beside the shorter woman’s head, looking down into her face. “You know, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if you, I dunno, were so ashamed, so let down, so depressed by you legendary failure with Amesworth that you decided to indulge yourself in some…” she leaned closer to her face, “self-punishment?”

  She gave the brunette a blank stare.

  “Still wanna play hardball, don’t you?” She glared, feeling her lips part to blow a bubble. “Maybe I can make you scream for daddy before—”

  “Cool it, Jacklyn.” A male voice spoke, followed by the sound of chains and footsteps echoed by red dress shoes.

  The woman stopped, then, her shoulders slumped and her head turned to the left-side of the end of the hall where a young man stood. Atop his white dress shirt he wore a similarly pattered checkered vest and pants with silver chains hanging from both pockets, and his own tie and collar done loosely on his neck. His light brown braided hair fell around his head with red dyed ends and a small upright pony tail in the back.

  “Andre?!” she gawked, “Why are you like, always everywhere?”

  “Alastor sent me to know what was taking so long.” He sighed, “Should’ve figured you’d be first at her door after all that laughing in the car.”

  “Like you weren’t cackling too!” She pointed at him. “That drive out of Amesworth was prime-time entertainment and you know it!”

  “…Ok it was kinda funny.”

  “Ta! Point proven—HEY, where’d she—?”

  “Carmichael,” Anastasia said, standing beside the young man, who quickly hopped back while she inspected at her nails. “Had I known it’d have been you and her, I would’ve gladly accepted the standard Blue Collar from earlier.”

  “Guess foresight’s not your strong suit then!” he shot back. He glanced at Jacklyn, who nodded and joined them. The two pressed their shoulders against Anastasia’s and walked her to the elevator at the end. The young man dialed in a code and the doors opened, the three entered the spacious box and waited, feeling it descend beneath their feet. Jacklyn suddenly gasped, her hand coming to her mouth.

  “Andre!”

  “That’s me.”

  “Isn’t this the first time she’s failed a mission?”

  The young man caught her grin, returning one of his own. “And on guard duty of all things!” he shook his head. “She should be lucky we’re short on Red’s after that boy Willsworth went missing.”

  “Ta ha! I know right? I mean you’d think it would’ve been all the assassination assignments, undercover operations, anti-collarist raids, or even that one time she ‘allegedly’ killed nine-teen Bodily Tal—”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  Both Jacklyn and Andre paused, turning their attention to Anastasia, who continued to stare forward.

  “Twenty-seven Bodily types we’re eliminated on that assignment,” she repeated. “I’d assume if you’re going to gloat about my achievements you’d at least get the facts correct.” With a ‘ding’ the doors opened and she stepped out. “Don’t embarrass me again.”

  Jacklyn’s eye twitched and she yanked the shorter woman back by her shoulder. “Did I hurt your ego, little miss privileged?”

  She glanced at the brunette’s hand, then back. “I’ll give you until the count of six.”

  “Or what?!”

  The sound of chains jingled at Andre’s fingers. The other Blue Collars in the hall stiffened. The area went dead quiet.

  “Miss Rosa?” One of two beefy men in blue ties said standing before a door with a small glass window. “Mr. Dark’s been waiting for you.”

  Anastasia looked at him, the two darker Blue Collars, then, the man again. She calmly pulled her hand away and walked inside as one held the door for her. Stepping inside, she spied a conveyor belt and black curtained tube alongside it large enough for someone to walk through. The two trotted away.

  “Feel free to take your time in there now!” Jacklyn waved her off.

  “And don’t keep the man waiting,” Andre’s voice trailed as the door slammed.

  With a roll of her eyes, Anastasia took out a white tub from beside the belt. She first removed her nails, one set that were long and purple razors, then another of standard sizes that she placed down carefully. Next she removed all the piercings on her ears and nose, leaving only one on her left ear before wiping the makeup from her eyes and lips, spitting out four molars into her hands in the process. Then she reached her belt, emptying her pouches; placing two blocks of clay, four enhanced flash bangs, a handful of marbles and her back pouch down. After that she reached into her fish-netted forearms, coiling up the hidden wires and placing them down along with the silver heels of her boots. Finally she emptied her pockets; dropping two small handguns, two small knives as well as four throwing knives, pilling the tub with ammunition.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The two guards glanced at each other, and then the tub full of weapons as the woman replaced her missing heels with plastic ones from her pockets.

  “U-um, anything else?” one asked.

  “No” she replied walking through the curtain. “I like to travel light.”

  “Anastasia da Rosa, step forth and take a seat.”

  Anastasia stepped forward in the cold gray room. Before her was a metal table in the middle of the room and two chairs—one of which was occupied by Alastor—and a single light hung overhead leaving the corners shadowed. She took a seat across from him as he stared at her, an open folder and pen in hand. Her eyes anxiously avoided his gaze.

  “Begin,” he said.

  “Operation P.A.R.T.Y., location, the Amesworth building, September 9th, 2020. My objective at the time was to safeguard the Talent extracting device we’d funded for Brandon Amesworth, which he unveiled on his son’s birthday. The operation was successful. However the functionality of the machine remained unknown”

  “Why was that?”

  “There was a malfunction at the time,” She said, “An unforeseen variable.”

  The man gave her a glance then went back to writing. “After your promotion we’d received word to continue our investigation on his continued requests for funding. Upon your return what were your findings?”

  She gave a brief nod. “Upon our second meeting I concluded Brandon Amesworth had planned to use the money to betray us.” She explained. “I set out to exterminate him later that night.”

  “Earlier he spoke of witnesses needing to be eliminated as well, what of them?”

  “Dealt with. Forty-six people in total over the course of those two days.”

  “And does this include the three he’d called to be removed after his business was broken into?”

  “…Yes sir.”

  “Then that number would be forty-nine, Anastasia.”

  Her body flinched, her jaw clenching. “My apologies, sir.”

  Alastor coughed. His eyes went to her for a moment. The woman returned the same stare. He went back to his folder. “Go on.”

  “My failure was in retrieving his machine. By the time I’d gotten there it had been destroyed by unknown circumstances. The police had discovered his ‘suicide’ at 6:50am in the morning amidst the chaotic money spree.”

  “That disaster…” Alastor’s voice gurgled under his mask, “Tell me, why did he decide to drop all of his money in the city before his death?”

  Anastasia cocked her head ever so slightly. “He came off as a very prideful man when I spoke with him. I can only assume he’d rather burn his funds than let it fall back to our hands.”

  “And you’re former associates, Left, Right, and Bob? Any idea as to why they betrayed you?”

  “No,” she said folding her arms. “They we’re just the FBI’s offshoot to us anyways. They we’re more than likely closer to Amesworth. Their loss is meaningless.”

  To her surprise, the man glared at her.

  “Meaningless?” his hand twitched. “It is anything but meaningless! Those men we’re your responsibility. As their superior, whatever led to the cause of their defection should’ve been foresight on your part. You’re ineptitude to understand that cost us a Bodily Talent user.”

  “…Where are they now?”

  “Arrested,” He said and looked at her, “For the murder of Brandon Amesworth.”

  “...”

  He let out a slow sigh. “Anything else?”

  “No, that concludes my report.”

  Alastor scribbled into his folder. “In conclusion, you were unable to retrieve the machine, and unable to stop Brandon from squandering his un-carded assets, which cost M.I.R.S at least four million. Furthermore, you were betrayed by your own associates in an utterly bizarre act of insurrection, costing us valuable bodies.”

  Her head tilted downward, lips sealed.

  “This has greatly compromised our organization’s discretion.” He coughed again, harder this time to which Anastasia tried to offer him her spare handkerchief. He shook his head. “Sloppy, especially after such a grand promotion. You should’ve ‘dealt with’ Amesworth earlier as you did the witnesses.” He snapped the folder closed.

  “You are dismissed.”

  “…” The woman turned away from him, her fist clenched. She trudged to the door and reached for the handle—only for it to swing wide open.

  “Oh,” Jacklyn said, standing beside Andre. The two exchanged smirks and she snapped her gum. “If it isn’t ‘Miss twenty-seven’.”

  She stepped forward but the brunette put her foot on the doorframe.

  “In a hurry?”

  “She’s leaving. You two are entering, now.” Alastor said sternly.

  The woman exited as the two hurried to him, saluting. The older man sat down and nearly spoke before noticing Andre was holding something.

  “Green tea, sir!” he replied cheerfully as if he could read his mind.

  “Your fa-vorite!” Jacklyn sang, gesturing to her partner with an unsettling smile.

  “…”

  The two gulped.

  “…Set it on the table.” He said, watching the younger man carefully move his folder to the side. “I do hope you have a—”

  “Coaster?!” Jacklyn asked, whipping a small plate from behind her.

  “…”

  The two quickly stepped back, their hands returning to their sides. Alastor eyed them, then, opened the folder. “We have confirmation.”

  Jacklyn looked surprised, “For real?”

  He nodded. “I spoke with the mobile hotline this morning. The President’s security confirmed the drastic rise in homeless activity since Amesworth is all but coincidental.”

  “So it’s not just the outskirts,” Andre said.

  “A fair guess but no,” He replied, “Whoever these individuals are have managed to cover their tracks for some time.”

  “And judging by what we know,” Jacklyn said, “their probably the source of those annoying flash mobs.”

  “All that property damage is going to force more business to move out of the city,” Andre added, “especially with Amesworth gone.”

  Alastor wrote something down in the folder and folded his hands. The two watched anxiously, waiting. His throat then pulsed ever so slightly to speak, perking their attention. They stiffened.

  ‘Here it comes!’ Jacklyn thought.

  Andre’s fingers twitched. ‘I knew the tea would work!’ He thought.

  ‘BZZ-BZZZZZZ!’

  Andre looked to Alastor, who returned his glance. The two then checked Jacklyn, who returned a wide eyed smile and slowly pulled her phone out. Checking it, her expression changed.

  “Hey, now that you mention it Snow Bunny’s been screaming at me all day about these homeless looking weridos were heckling her in the mall. She even took pictures.”

  Alastor groaned at the name. “Ms. Wollfe, now isn’t’ the time—”

  “Lemme see ‘em!” Andre said craning his head forward. His brow furrowed to the screen. “The heck am I supposed to be lookin’ at? A duck?”

  “It looked more like a goose to me.” The young woman replied.

  “That is a man in a white shirt.” Alastor sighed. He peered closer to the screen, “I can’t make out the one at the table besides a cylinder shaped hat. This third one has gray dyed hair and appears to be crawling on the floor for some reason.”

  ‘Crrrrrrrrrrk…’

  The Blue Collars quickly turned to the doorway where its slim opening revealed Anastasia’s heavily shadowed face. Her protruding eyes pulsed, fixated on the phone screen. Jacklyn nearly jumped.

  “Gah—stupid bitch how long were you there for?!”

  “Ms. Wollfe,” Alastor warned.

  “Let me,” the woman said stepping back inside. She strutted to the phone. “I’ll take this assignment—”

  But Jacklyn snatched it away. “Oh-ho, no you’re not! In case you haven’t noticed this assignment requires the upmost care.” She gestured to herself and Andre. “We’re going.”

  Anastasia looked genuinely surprised, “You two?”

  “That funny to you?!” she got in the shorter woman’s face. “Last I checked we didn’t have a losing record with Empire City.”

  “You don’t have any record with Empire City.”

  “Shut it!”

  “Enough,” Alastor felt his hands clench as the room instantly fell deathly silent. He took a slow breath. “You’re all going.”

  “NO!” Andre and Jacklyn yelled simultaneously. Alastor’s baggy eyes sharpened, shooting the two an angry vein-filled glare, silencing Jacklyn, however Andre clenched his fists.

  “Bullshit!” he aimed his glare at the masked man. “You know we’ve been planning this for months—it was your idea Alastor!” he gripped his tie. “We we’re supposed to make red this year!”

  “Andre…” Jacklyn said.

  “You know how much this promotion meant!” he continued, “My family—”

  “Another few months isn’t going to kill them, Mr. Carmichael. End of discussion.”

  The young man’s glare widened. His tongue lashed recklessly, “Cause you got already yours, huh Alastor?”

  “Givin’ her these handouts won’t make her like you more, Alastor!”

  An uncomfortable silence swept the room. Jacklyn’s eye shot between the two, ‘Damnit, Andre! Shut the fuck up!’

  “…Mr. Carmichael,” Alastor began, “must I remind you it’s Mr. Da—”

  “Really?!” He exclaimed and pointed to Anastasia. “Then why ain’t it her name too? Y’know since you love pickin’ favorites—!”

  ‘K-RUCKK!’

  The bottom of a cane snapped into the younger man’s chin, sending him flipping and landing on his back. His feet shot from under him, stumbling to stand—only for a white gloved hand to catch him by his neck and drag him across the floor and up to the wall, hitting him so hard the metal dented around him.

  ‘THOOM!’

  “Andre!” Jacklyn cried.

  But Alastor put his cane up before she could move. Still looking at the younger man, he clenched his hand. “Mr. Carmichael,” his voice rasped, “What is your third lawful commandment?”

  “Ca—I can’t…brea—”

  ‘THOOM!’

  Andre’s head was smashed into the metal once more, making Jacklyn flinch.

  “I can’t hear you,”

  “What is your third lawful commandment?”

  “H-honor!” He gasped. “Ho…nor thy…superior!”

  “Which means?”

  “Always…stand behind your…greater Collar…patiently awaiting orders w-with the up…most respect!”

  The man held him there. Then, he let him go, letting Jacklyn run past to help him to his feet. Alastor picked up his tea and coaster.

  “Leadership,” he began, crossing the room, “Is a right that must be earned.” He stopped at the door and faced them again. “Despite the usual ranking of Collars, Anastasia will not act as the de facto leader this time.”

  “Wait,” Jacklyn said, “Then why’d you—?!”

  The door slammed and he was gone. Suddenly, the walls and ceiling expanded revealing more lights. The dark corners fell back, revealing a large spacious room.

  “You three have been bickering all day,” Alastor said from the wall intercom. “Andre, Jacklyn, if the two of you can defeat her you will take lead of Cell 2. Same goes for you, Anastasia.”

  The air was still as the three glanced from one another, anxious to make the first move. Finally Anastasia reached behind her, only to come up empty handed. Jacklyn’s face instantly changed to a grin, shooting to her feet.

  “Ta ha! Well, well, look who has no weapons. Andre, you still with me?”

  “I’m good,” he growled. He whipped out the two chains from his pockets, spinning them rapidly. He gave Jacklyn a look and split from her, the two circling the woman in opposite directions like sharks. Anastasia leaped atop the table, crouching. Jacklyn reached for her pocket.

  “Heard my brother also tried to kill you. ‘Bout time he grew a pair,” she said.

  “You’re wrong,” Anastasia replied, focusing on her peripheral. “He actually tried to stop Right.”

  Jacklyn grimaced. “Then I take it back. That eyebrow-less coward hasn’t changed a bit. Waste of Talent!”

  “Jackie, focus!” Andre shouted.

  In a flash Anastasia kicked off the table, sending it flipping into Andre. At the same time she flew across the room towards Jacklyn, grabbing her hand before she could open it. Growling, she shot her leg towards Anastasia’s neck, to which the shorter woman pivoted; spinning out of the way while returning a sweep of her own, knocking the brunette to the floor. Anastasia then bolted up the wall, twisting her body and sending her knee to Jacklyn’s chest. However, inches from impact, a chain wrapped around her waist and threw her up into the ceiling. Looking down, she saw Jacklyn was now facing upwards, two silver handguns aimed at her.

  “Don’t let her escape,” her voice rang with glee, “I’m gonna enjoy this!”

  “Tch!” Anastasia tensed, feeling herself begin to fall as an array of gunfire blasted in her direction. Forcing her body to curl, her feet felt the celling briefly before exploding off of it and downwards into Andre’s direction. She could almost feel the bullets on her sides as she evaded. Andre swung is arms left, breaking her momentum and watching the woman fly into the side of the concrete wall, breaking into smithereens.

  “Gotcha!” Jacklyn cried leaping into the smoke, aiming her guns. There was nothing. Andre stared, then his eyes widened.

  “Behind you!” he shouted, feeling his chain pull slightly forward. Jacklyn spun around, only to see the woman in the air land behind Andre.

  “No, behind you!” she yelled as Andre whipped his chain around himself like a propeller. However it was Jacklyn who was taken off her feet, screaming as she spun around the room by her ankle.

  ‘The hell?’ he thought. ‘She got behind Jacklyn to bond her! Wait…wasn’t she behind me—?’

  Before he could react, he felt his own ankle give as she slammed into him, both rolling to the floor and hitting the wall. By the time they came to, they we’re wrapped in Andre’s own chain. Jacklyn struggled.

  “Andre! Recall your weap—!”

  “Don’t bother.”

  They both looked up to see Anastasia looking down at them, her foot anchoring the chain to the floor, Jacklyn’s guns in each hand trained at their heads.

  “It’s over now children, I win.”