I sat on the couch of the one bedroom flat, wearing my black wife beater and a pair of ripped up jeans. They were old but comfortable. My hands smelled like gasoline, a strong pungent scent and overpowering to my brain. It was all I could smell and it was all I breathed. My short hair skirted my bare shoulder-blades, black like my mood. My leg kept twitching, over and over, shaking the coffee table. The cigarette felt foreign between my lips, and it wasn't even lit. It was like someone else had placed it there and I had forgotten to remove it. Every breath I took I could only smell gasoline. Music drifted from the laptop on the coffee table, some old 90's rock song. With all the lights off, it was the only light in the room. I glanced at the clock. It was almost six in the morning. How long had I been sitting here like this? The heater kicked on, the rattling noise jarring my thoughts. I wanted to debrief my mind from my mission but my mind was infuriatingly blank. No thoughts to bug me, yet no thoughts to continue writing my report. The phone rang, and I brought it to my lips, barely registering the movement in my brain. “Hello?” came a deep voice from the other end. It was a soothing dark voice like melted chocolate being poured over strawberries. It was calming like watching the ocean waves roll over one another, erasing their predecessors existence. It was warm like coming in from the winter night and being held close. “Kvar,” I heard myself say, breathy as if I had been running a long time. A pause. “Are you okay?” he said, that voice making me melt against the back of the couch. “Yes,” I said, hissing the s in the word until I could hear it in my head long after I had ran out of breath to express it. “Finish your debrief for Null,” Kvar said, “I will see you later.” The phone clicked in my ear and even as it did I sat with it against my head in the dark room. Music continued to pour from the laptop, filling the room, and as I finally brought my hands up to hang up the phone I could smell gasoline.
It had been 17:00 hours when we mobilized. The driver dropped us at the location and left, his dark eyes like holes in his wrinkled face. My kevlar vest was tight around my chest, causing me to hold my breath. The wind was unforgiving as we ran through the woods, guns heavy in our hands. I slid to a stop, crouching in the wet leaves. The base loomed up before us like a dark obelisk, mysterious and evil. This was our checkpoint. Trijan behind me was a tall man, thin and strong. He was playing team leader this time around, and pulling his mask over his eyes he motioned to Einn and I. We flanked the left end of the building, skulking through the rough underbrush. I felt a shiver go through my spine as I saw the guards, standing by the entrance. They were wearing heavy armor, but not looking our way. Looking back I could see Trijan moving the opposite direction, his back straight even as he crawled across the ground. I clutched my gun tighter. My M4 felt almost warm to the touch. This gun was my child, my life. We had been trained to believe this, and I would never think otherwise. Einn lifted his M24, positioning it as he lay sprawled on the ground. His icy black eyes stared at me from behind the mask, and I knew I was to continue on. My descent towards the door was rough, the ground uneven and slick from the recent rain. The hill didn't provide much cover as I let myself slide feet first a good ten feet before rolling myself behind a bush. I needed to get myself together, my breathing was so frantic I was fearing I'd hyperventilate. I closed my eyes and breathed out slow and even, counting off my breaths until I was sure I had slowed my blood pressure. Death needed to come out today, and death would not make mistakes. Lifting my M4 I pointed it in the direction of the guards. Next thing I know, I am running through the base, my combat boots pounding heavy against the concrete floor. Behind me I can hear Trijan, his stride much larger than mine. We come to a stop and I smash the butt of my gun into the control panel next to a door. It slides open partway before jamming. Trijan reaches over me and pries the door open the rest of the way and we run inside. I am feeling high on adrenaline as he runs to the console. I can admire his strong back from where I stand. I realize I have never seen him slouch. He turned to me, his thin form almost disappearing in my view. He was waif-like, yet he had unbelievable strength. I innately knew that I could count on him for anything. I hoisted my M4 in my arms as a shout came from the testing area before us. A huge explosion lit the area and Trijan was over me, his back shielding me from the blast. I knew Kvar had done his job, and now it was time to leave. I got up, remembering the strength in Trijan's arms when he held me as I sprang out the door, my M4 leaving a trail of cover as we ran. And then I was outside again, watching the building burning with Kvar and Trijan. Looking out the corner of my eye, I saw Kvar standing stiff, his dark hair messy in his eyes, the fire glittering off their pretty blue color. Trijan grabbed my arm on the other side of me and pushed me up the hill. We scrambled together in the mud, climbing the precipice until we stood, shaking hands with Einn. The trek back to the truck was long and cold. It had begun to rain again. My hands were slick on the gun, and it was heavy, pulling on my shoulder. Behind me, Einn looked just as miserable although his cold eyes were glaring at my back. Trijan was walking straight as ever, his short light hair pushed down on his face with the rain. Our driver was not the same man this time. He was older and had gray all through his hair. He like the other, didn't speak as he drove us through the winding roads back to our safehouse.
We were orphans, all from different areas, different experiences and different times. We never had been given names so they were assigned to us, a system of identification and nothing more. We didn't have a home. We were taken from safehouse to safehouse, completing missions for the cryptic Null. It was war time, and we were soldiers like any other after all. Einn was the oldest, and he had Asiatic features and a quick tongue. He was shorter, but rippling with muscles. He had black hair and black eyes, his hair just long enough for dreads. Tonight he had stripped down to a white wife beater and yoga pants, and was doing stretches in the corner of our shabby cabin. He was our team's sniper, and had a steady hand that none could compare to. Trijan was the tallest, and slim like no human I'd seen before. He had light brown hair that was neatly cropped and dark hazel eyes. Sometimes they were brown, sometimes they were green. When he got very angry they went black, but I only saw it a few times before. He had the calmness of a jungle cat and as I mentioned before the strength that surpassed his figure. He was at the laptop taking his turn writing a debriefing on his mission. He was a master tactician and used SMG's like no one's business, but preferred to dispatch targets without the use of guns. Kvar was a mystery to me. He was sweet like sugar but had a darkness in him that we all saw. His hair was ubiquitously in his eyes, those eyes of Prussian blue. His reflexes were second to none, and I always felt that I could count on him for everything. When the terrors came to me at night he would hold me close, and talk me down from every mission high I experienced. Yet, even despite my feelings that I'd die without him, he'd frequently push himself in missions to the point where I had seen him throw himself in front of an explosive blast. It was as if he wanted to die. Rima was the last. She was of African descent for sure, and spoke harshly to me. She had eyes of gunmetal gray and the kind of dry wit that made me want to curl up inside. She was undeniably beautiful but she had never shown me kindness, and whenever she flung her long black hair over her shoulders it was a sign that she was going to rip into me and tear me apart. She didn't go with us on missions due to some situation she had worked out with Null, but I knew her proficiency with a pistol. She had used it on me once before. Null was our leader. I can only remember his voice from the one time I spoke to him. He had a cool voice, perfectly calm and collected. It sounded like any other person's voice, and he had been neutral on every subject he spoke on. I was told where I was going, I was told who I was and told what my life would be like now. I did not know what he looked like, I did not know anything about him. To me, this was fine, Null was Null.
Kvar was looking at me, and I slouched down further in the couch. Our new safehouse was cold, and in the rain it creaked. I felt my leg shaking again and he was at my side suddenly, hands around mine. His fingers were warm as they pushed my hair from my eyes, and I didn't want to look into those blue hypnotic pools. But it was too late, my eyes locked in his and I was lost. No one disputed Kvar as he stood me up and led me away. I followed like a dog at his heels, up the stairs and to the bedroom. My shoulders were bare again in the wife beater I loved wearing most. His hair was in his eyes and I could not see his expression as he pulled me into a tight hug. His arms were around me, I could feel them drawing me into his warmth. My eyes closed and I couldn't see the light of the laptop in the corner, the shabby beds in the corner of the room, or the guns lined up on the desk. My hands were shaking, my legs were shaking. His voice was in my ear. “Let it out,” he was saying over and over like a personal mantra. I could not do anything but obey. Though my tears were falling I did not feel emotion. I felt numb. Kvar was looking into my eyes, as if mesmerized by the pain on my face. Was this kindness a facade to prolong my torture? He held me tightly in the middle of the tiny room, my limbs shaking and protesting the tight embrace. It wasn't until the clock clicked over to 22:00 when Trijan walked in. He completely bypassed the two of us, and went to a cot. I watched his strong back as he slid his white shirt off and climbed into his cot, his shoulder blades jutting out from his skin. Then the dirty white sheet settled over his body and I saw no more of his flesh. Einn propped himself up against the doorjamb, silhouetted from the light in the hallway. His black eyes looked in at us, and he made a sound of disgust before he slipped into the room as well. We had all shared beds before, depending on the quality of our safehouse, but this one was stocked with four cots and a couch downstairs. I assumed since Einn was here, that Rima had opted to stay downstairs. Einn pushed past us, making sure to elbow me hard as he went to the side of the room where Trijan lay. Kvar released my shoulders and gently guided me to my own cot. It had not gone unnoticed that Kvar had smelled of blood, even after his shower. Where had he been last mission? I knew he would not tell.
Rima woke me in the morning, shoving me from the miniscule warmth that I had managed to produce during the night. She ripped the sheet from my body and threw it into the center of the room. Her steel eyes glared down at me as she stood over me, hands on her hips. “You have a mission. Solo mission,” she said coldly, a bit of a smirk growing on the edges of her lips. I stumbled sleepily downstairs, the jeans I wore doing nothing to protect me from the frigid cold. The laptop was open and blinking a message repeatedly. As I strode over to look at it, I noticed that I had again been the last to awaken. Kvar was drinking from a mug, and Einn was again doing exercises off to himself. Trijan was not present but I could see that his shoes by the door were gone. Logging on, I realized quickly that Rima had not lied to me. With a glance I could see that her hands were crossed over her chest and her expression was one of a cat catching a mouse. Signed at the bottom of the mission was the single word Null. I stood and walked back upstairs, ignoring the huff of exasperation from Rima because I did not react. Outwardly I had tried to keep my cool but I was afraid. In the tiny room that we all shared, I sat crouched on the floor. My hands were tightly bound in my hair as I pulled on it, fighting back tears. A solo mission was suicide, and even if I had never received formal schooling, I knew suicide was death. Null never had sent any of us on solo missions. I had thought of myself as his child, and the realization that he would send me away like this was just as painful as if I had been eviscerated. Strong hands pulled at the ones tied up in my hair, and I looked up into dark blue. Kvar was there, pulling my hands from my head and standing me up. I could pretend I was someone else as he held me tightly, his arms like steel as I leaned into them, unable to hold myself up. His voice a deep timber in my ear was saying “It's okay,” over and over. His hands were in my hair, smoothing down the patches that I had tousled in my distress. I don't remember leaving, but the next thing I knew I was sitting in a truck with a man who wouldn't even look at me. My guns were strapped to my body, a heavy weight. My kevlar vest was tightened around me like a corset, painfully tight. The man who was driving me would not speak, or could not, and had avoided my eyes every chance he could. It was like he knew I was going off to die. The truck stopped too soon and I was almost shoved outside into the rain. My hair was soaked in seconds and the shorter pieces clung to my face as I tried in vain to wipe them away. The engine of the truck roared away, spraying mud from it's back tires as he took off. I was left standing alone in the middle of the woods, soaking wet.
The headphones in my ears roared out rock music in my ears as I ran across the distance to my destination. I could feel the M4 thumping against my back, urging me on as I closed the gap to my mission. The ground was slippery but my boots were made to cross terrain like this. Approaching the building, I could almost imagine it was someone's house. Someone's very large house. The mansion was sprawled over the ground like a sick display of opulence, even with the armed guards patrolling the perimeter armed to the teeth. It was morning, and the sun was rising rapidly in the sky. I would easily be seen, decked out in my only mission suit I had, which was mostly black material. Null had ordered this, and it would be done. But even though I had done everything Null had ever told me from as long as I could remember, I didn't want to die. In Null's brief, I had studied the outline of the guard's shift change. Scaling the building was not difficult for me, as I had done it a hundred times over, but I felt a novel sense of nervousness. Something I rarely felt this far into a mission. As I walked down the hallway, my boots clacking against the floor, it dawned on me just how alone I really was. As I peered around the corner, I could almost see the ghostly outline of Trijan, pushing against my chest as he told me to wait and check. Walking past the empty upstairs rooms, I paused to look out of their expansive windows. Einn would be perched up there, the glint of his sniper rifle barely visible in the morning light. From the safehouse, Rima would be monitoring our communications. Was she even watching me now? It would be her ultimate satisfaction to see my heart stop. Where would Kvar be now? Kvar would be somewhere unexpected, the maniacal smile on his face as he planted his explosives. Lost in thought I came back to reality suddenly as a tingle went through the back of my neck. Looking up, I was startled to see I had almost walked out onto the upper landing in plain view of the entire downstairs. Heart beating fast, I ducked into the nearest room. The room was oval in shape, filled with giant floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, of rich mahogany wood. They were filled to the brim with books of all shapes and sizes. The room was completely closed in by the bookshelves that lined the walls, yet it still managed to seem open and beautiful. It was like someone had taken the perfect picturesque library and placed it in this mansion. In the center of the circular room was a sitting area, with high backed chairs made of leather. A wisp of smoke was curling through the air behind one of them facing the fireplace, away from me. Someone was in here. Nervously, I reached for my belt, pulling the .32 pistol out and cradling it in my hands. Stepping forward, I put one foot next to the other, walking almost sideways as I approached the chair with a crouch. “No need,” a strong male voice said from behind me. Before I could whirl around to face the new intruder, arms the size of my thighs wrapped about my chest and lifted me into the air. With my arms pinned to my side, he squeezed painfully until my fingers released my gun. My vision was getting smoky as I felt no air being drawn into my lungs. “Release her Yetmisiki,” said another voice, this one a light and airy male voice. My descent to the floor was humiliating as I crumpled to a heap, my limbs numb and unable to push myself up from where I fell. A hand cupped my chin and lifted it, and I stared into light blue eyes and flaxen hair. He was wearing robes like a priest, decked in gold lining that made his hair seem even lighter. He was young, maybe only a few years older than me, and he had a general look about him that was kind. “Child, what are you doing here?” he asked. “Breaking into my house, with guns like this?” I couldn't struggle as I felt him lifting my M4 from my back. From where I lay I could see him looking at it, turning it in his hands. I was enraged. That was my child, my life. “Get your hands off that,” snarled a voice that I realized was my own guttural tone. He laughed, a musical one, and set the gun down in front of me as if daring me to pick it up if I could. The pins and needles in my arms were painful, burning like fire, but I could feel the life coming back into them. In a moment I'd be able to grab the gun and shoot him in his face. If I could move fast enough. “If you need something from my house, you are welcome to take it,” he said his eyes showing the bemusement beneath. “I don't want for anything, so whoever has sent you can have what he wants. But in return, I would like some time with you.” My eyes widened. “When you're feeling up to it, come have tea with me in the downstairs parlor,” he said, and with that he was gone from my sight, his robes sweeping majestically across the floor. Then I was left all alone on the floor of the majestic library, with my M4 before me.