The night passed on uneventfully but the weight of the bounty lingers in the starry night as the Carnal Requiem settled into their hotel room.
"This is a very well-organized hotel," Thomas remarks, typing on his laptop. His fingers delicately type on the letter keys. Stitch messes with the air conditioning over his bed, pressing buttons and turning the knobs endlessly to change the temperature.
EMP looks at her computer, reviewing the available hit lists in the city and writing down the cash reward tied to each one. A tiny bobtail cat roams away from the crazed assassins inhabiting the private luxury retreat.
"Where's Hanger?" Thomas questions, shifting his gaze from his laptop to his comrades. The cat jumps onto Thomas' bed, looking at what he is doing. Thomas gently pets the cat's head, leaning into his hand for more.
"He's probably out skinning a poor soul somewhere," EMP calmly assures, carefully looking over the details of the hit lists on her computer. "There are many hit lists for lesser criminals that we can do before all of us do our missions. Oh, there are plenty of nice burger places nearby."
Stitch angrily slams his fist into the air conditioning, the impact causes the machine to shake violently before blowing out a gentle cold breeze.
"I feel almost sorry for you. Having to take out a bunch of training wheels," Stitch mocks, flopping onto the comfy king-size bed. "The emissary must think of you and Hanger are jokes to be assigned to eliminate 2 inexperienced teens."
"$250,000 is a lot of money," EMP cuts back, almost like a challenge. "Since they're so young and experienced, they'll go down quickly. Not sure about your target though."
"$250,000? You think I'm impressed?" Stitch's brow furrows, raising his hands in mock praise. "While you and Hanger are getting crumbs for small-time targets, I could earn $2 million going after this 'master' or whoever he is."
Thomas doesn't say anything, paying no attention to the tension building up in the retreat. He finishes his work with one hand on the laptop with the other playfully petting his cat. It purrs softly, eyes half-closing before flopping onto its side.
"I don't care if he is an anomaly outside Warden society and created 2 Elusive human hybrids," Stitch adds. "I will slice apart and reattach him into something more beautiful."
"That's good for you Stitch. I hope you achieve your aspiration" Thomas gently closes his laptop with a click. His eyes glare at Stitch, causing both EMP and Stitch to stand down. Thomas leans forward, exuding a sense of control over the situation. "That's enough out of you two."
EMP looks over cautiously, turning her attention towards Thomas while Stitch sits slouched on his bed. Thomas gently picks up his cat and lays it on his lap.
"I don't care about this cash reward but we will eliminate our targets no matter what," Thomas warns, his eyes cold as a razer. "If our clients want them dead then that's what we will give them. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I do understand," Stitch says with genuine respect dripping beneath his tone.
"That's good," Thomas praises but it felt mechanical and rehearsed. "Did you tell Hanger about the name of the hotel?"
"No," EMP bluntly utters, lazily leaning her head next to her hand.
Thomas' eyes narrow as he groans to himself at this realization. Stitch lays on his king-size bed comfortably as he is met with the gentle cold breeze of the air conditioning. No one made a sound allowing the silence to draw on for way too long.
"Where is he actually?" Stitch says a smirk tugs at his lips. "He said he wanted to let loose for a bit but it's been a while."
A loud painful scream echoes through the city, his voice reverberating off the metal glass frames. The cat lets out a soft hiss before curling tighter into Thomas' lap. Thomas comforts his cat, making sure it's not frightened by the noise. Stitch lets out an annoyed sigh before turning up the volume on the flatscreen TV.
'Well at least someone gets to let loose," Stitch mutters, cursing to himself as he raises the volume.
In an abandoned alleyway, the honks of the taxis and the cars speeding through the road muffle the groans and screams of a poor unfortunate soul. Hanger looks over the poor skinless fool who crossed his path, laying on the cold brick wall. The man looked like a bright red piece of raw meat. Hanger's right hand clutched on a tiny potato peeler, dripping with the man's crimson blood.
"Don't worry you'll be fine for the next 24 hours," Hanger kindly assures, patting the man's shoulder. The physical touch sends sharp shivers down the man. "Most don't realize that you can live long without skin. Course not including bugs and hypothermia," Hanger jokingly acts, waving the man goodbye.
He stood up brushing aside the dirt from his coat as if he was leaving a corporate meeting.
"Try not to die unless someone finds you. Or don't," Hanger gives a daunting wave over his shoulder. "Oh, do you know where Continental Veil is? Need to meet up with my friends." The skinless fool gives a weakened groan but Hanger half-heartedly shrugs, casually strolling away.
A few hours before the Carnal Requiem arrived, the sun was barely below the skyline of the American Warden temple's high towers. The sky is a beautiful shade of warm hues stretched across the mountains below. The recruits were entering the meeting room in drones. The corridors were filled with angsty teens pushing against each other, and the royal guards stood perfectly still like stone sentinels glued to the ground.
"You really think your grandpa really convinced the Arbiter for us to learn spiritual techniques?" Adam inquires, dramatically pondering to himself. "I thought once you turned 18-that is your chance."
"Yep. That dumb old leader agreed to decrease the limit to around 16-17," Kiara explains, sliding her hands into her suit pockets.
"It's not fair. If only I was a couple years older," Seth says with an exasperated sigh. Anby comforts him, placing her hands around his shoulder.
"Don't worry you still have me," Anby kindly reassures. "I still got 2 years until I get my chance." Seth gives a half-hearted smile as the group tries to find their seats.
As the group sits down on the wooden benches, the Arbiter and Zhang walk forward to the front of the room. Their presence exuded a sense of authority and command.
Everyone stands up in unison in their presence. Their bodies straightened at once, their shoulders rolling back, and their heads lifted high. Kiara half heartedly stands tall but she still felt out of place to everyone around her.
"This is still so weird," Kiara mutters quietly to herself.
"As you know the legendary Edward Meitner was almost killed on Wednesday," the Arbiter explains with a sense of unease and courteous disbelief. "If our strongest are this vulnerable then I tremble at the thought of our weakest." Edward's head slightly pulls back, taking a tiny pause to himself.
"Did he just insult your grandpa Kiara?" Seth leans forward, his voice calm and measured.
"Did he really?" Kiara raises her eyebrow.
"He's implying that your grandpa is as vulnerable as the weaker recruits," Seth bluntly remarks, not understanding the situation in front of him.
"Oh hell nah," Kiara mutters quietly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I don't understand the little beef they have."
"Eh. No one does," Adam cuts in casually. "Your grandfather just never liked him."
"Quiet!" Zhang orders, silencing the crowd. He gestures to everyone to sit back down in their seats. Adam playfully jokes with Kiara as they flop back onto the cold benches below them.
"Thank you, Zhang," the Arbiter compliments, placing his hands together. "Remember everyone–this new threat will challenge you like no other. There's not going to be a next time so we have to get stronger."
Edward shifts uncomfortably as he straightens his posture on the stone wall. Many of the recruits stare, some nodding their heads, making notes and some just dozing off.
"Even though recruits like yourselves start their training to gain their spiritual techniques at 18," the Arbiter continues, his gaze narrowing on the crowd surrounding him. "Edward has made a wonderful point that we should prepare you all for the future. If you are 16 and older, you will be given the chance to see your options."
"Are there any questions?" Zhang utters, clapping his hands together. His gaze looms over all the excited recruits waiting for the chance to see their choices.
Adam slowly but dramatically raises his hand high in the air. Zhang narrows his eyes with annoyance the moment he sees who it belongs to. He gives a long deep sigh.
"Adam. There's a difference between picking a weak technique because it felt right for you–," Zhang explains, already regretting it. He points his finger directly at the young recruit. "--Vs picking a weak technique just because you want to mess with me."
Adam slowly lowers his hand, amused by Zhang's frustration. Kiara chuckles to herself, leaning back and forth on her chair.
"You know what Adam, please be an example," Zhang pinches the bridge of his nose. "Be my guest. Come up to the front and place your hand on the orb."
"Hey guys I got sacrificed," Adam jokes, rising from his seat. He raises his arms like a martyr before slowly walking to the front of the room. He is soaking in the giggles from the crowd. Zhang doesn't even hide his glare, giving Adam a mean look.
"You're not being sacrificed," Zhang rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. "You're being made an example." Adam shrugs his shoulders, gently placing his hand on the black orb in front of him. It glows an unnatural pure white glow assessing his character and skill level.
After the light from the orb dims down, it relays Adam's choices.
Orb: Select one– Mimicry, Bubble pulse, Spiritual manipulation, Telekinesis, Illusion, Emotion manipulation.
Mimicry? Zhang thinks as his brow furrows. He stays quiet, his eyes darting towards an excited Adam. The young boy brushes his shoulder pretending there is dirt there.
"Those are your choices to pick as your technique. Remember to choose wisely," Zhang raises his finger, instructing Adam with a stern look. "Please for the love of god please do not pick the weak technique just because."
"Thank you, my glorious king. I love you forever and ever," Adam claps his hands together. "Hope your swords stay sharp. Thank you for giving me the chance to–"
"It's sir or master," Zhang cuts in, raising his hand for Adam to stop. He gives off a disgusted look crossing his face. Adam gives a soft sigh before walking back to his seat.
"If you dare pick bubble pulses, I'll revoke your right to exist," Zhang yells out to Adam in the crowd. The young recruit slowly slouches, trying to make himself invisible.
"You better give me a good explanation as to why you picked it," Zhang pinches the bridge of his nose, his frustration clear in his tone. "You'll be spending hours training to make it work because you'll be stuck with it for life if you choose it."
"You know he's gotta do it," Kiara playfully leans next to Anby and Seth.
"I have to do it," Adam grins, shaking Kiara on the shoulder.
"He's going to kill you if you do that," Anby mutters, her gaze darting to Zhang staring deadpan at Adam.
"Oh yes he will," Seth chuckles to himself.
"You can only pick one like he says," Kiara playfully mutters. "Hope Adam doesn't pick the wrong one."
As many more recruits are being called up, the orb relays their choices one after another dictating their fate. Some let out loud cheers excited by their choices but others groaned with disappointment seeing the mediocre lineup they had to choose from.
"This is it," one recruit complains under his breath, hearing the mediocre lineup of abilities.
"Let's see what I can work with." one takes a steady deep breath.
"Remember. You have plenty of time to think about your choices," Zhang calmly assures.
Adam perfectly times Zhang on what he is about to say. "Remember it's about choosing what's best for you. Pick what feels true to yourself," Adam slowly mouths, moving his hand up and down mimicking Zhang.
"Bro you can read this man like a book," Adam remarks casually to Seth. "You think he is reading off a teleprompter? I've got him down for rhythm."
Kiara gives a nod of agreement, arms crossed.
"He's like repeating stuff–he said the whole picking one technique like 3 times," Kiara comments casually. "Is he good? Like does he need new material to say?"
"Kiara Meitner," Zhang reads off the list. "It's your turn."
"Welp. I also got sacrificed," Kiara gives a weak peace sign as she rises from her seat. "I hope one of my choices is ridiculously powerful for no reason."
As Kiara walks forward to the big orb in front of the room, many recruits behind her whisper behind her back.
"It's the Conroy girl," one recruit murmurs quietly to her friend.
"Don't get too close," one upperclassman sneers. "Her aura's always shifting. That's how it always begins–with the dangerous ones."
Kiara slowly puts her hand on the orb. It glows an unnatural pure white glow assessing Kiara's character and her skills. She patiently awaits for the orb to relay all of the choices she can pick for her spiritual technique. `
As the glow of the orb dims down, it relays all of Kiara's choices. The crowd quieted. The mentors watched with a rare silence while others clutched onto their clipboards. Kiara however is just vibing.
Orb: Select one- Shadow manipulation. Phantom mirage. Blink step. Spatial lock. Point-to-point recall. Mimic fade and Echo Kill.
Many of the upperclassmen and mentors stood frightened as they heard each of Kiara's choices playing out loudly to the crowd. Their shoulders felt stiff and their feet felt petrified to the ground.
"Those techniques are associated with killers," one classmate mutters quietly to himself, clutching his hands into fists.
"She really could be a Conroy," a recruit whispers to her friend. "It makes sense. Remember when the mentors thought she was going to kill the Arbiter." No one expected this turn of events.
Shadow manipulation? That sounds kind of awesome. Kiara thinks to herself, placing her hand near her chin and pondering. Maybe I should choose that. Point-to-point recall also sounds cool. Ah, there are too many options to choose from and I have to pick one? Wish I could try them all out first.
Behind Kiara, the crowd whispered and muttered behind her back but she was very oblivious to this fact.
Turning around, Kiara goes to meet back up with the crowd but is met with judgemental glares from many around her. She didn't understand why everyone was so frightened. Their fear is evident on their faces.
Alwin Dubois's eyes narrow, tipping the brim of his rice hat, covering his gaze. Zhang looks with a serious expression, not expecting Kiara's choices. Edward leans on the cold stone wall, crossing his arms together. He tries to maintain a level of composure but the Arbiter's calculating gaze shakens him.
"Oh. Did I miss something?" Kiara mutters, slowly stepping down the steps. She flops on her seat next to her friends while eyes follow her from every direction.
"Kiara…literally everyone is staring at you like you summoned a demon," Seth mutters, before facepalming.
"Oh really?" Kiara looks around, seeing all the death glares around her. Whispers passing around like it's a funeral. Their stares start to sink in.
"Are my choices not that good or something?" Kiara inquires, keeping her voice as quiet as a whisper.
"Oh they're not bad per say," Adam leans forward, his face serious but he is still taking the situation seriously. "The problem with your choices is that those techniques are associated with killers, assassins, and hitmen. The threat we are actively training to stop."
"How do you know those techniques are associated with those types of people?" Kiara inquires leaning close to Adam.
"Rogue wardens," Adam simply remarks, straightening his posture. "Everyone is afraid of a little boogeyman."
"They're just scared that's all," Anby assures, fidgeting with her fingers. "Everyone here is paranoid after what happened 25 years ago."
"I can't believe you people," Kiara bluntly utters, raising her head to emphasize her words. "Y'all don't even know me that well and you think I'm going to be a threat or something"
"You people?" Adam dramatically acts seriously. He raises his eyebrow while leaning forward. "What do you mean by you people, Kiara?"
"You know what I mean," Kiara mutters, her voice high-pitched and playful. "I just wanted to pick a cool ability now I look like a serial killer."
"What ability are you going to choose to manifest, Kiara?" Anby leans forward, the light glare in her glasses hiding her gaze.
"I don't know but shadow manipulation is very awesome but echo kill tho.." Kiara utters, swinging her legs like she is at recess. "That sounds kind of awesome like it sounds both edgy and awesome. There are too many choices to just pick one."
"Kiara's right," Adam cuts in, suddenly hyped. "Like Point to Point recall. Blink step. Phantom mirage. Those sound like banger abilities. No wonder Kiara has trouble picking."
"Those are all stealth base and agility abilities," Anby chimes in with a sigh, pushing her glasses forward. "Kind of not a good look for Kiara since stealth isn't meant to be deadly."
"Stealth is meant to be deadly– if not why would you be scared of it?" Kiara says in an exaggerated tone. "How else are you supposed to surprise attack and see them squirm and scream because they didn't see you? Like all of the blood spraying out."
Anby exhales with the weight of a disappointed mother watching her rowdy children play with the electric socket with a fork. Adam smacks his lips not having a comeback ready. Seth groans louder.
"I'm just saying people project all of their fears onto people's choices," Anby mutters worryingly. She fidgets with her fingers trying to rationalize everything. "You're really not making it easy to defend yourself."
"I get it okay. You don't know what I'm capable of or what I'm going to do," Kiara shrugs, leaning herself back lazily on the wooden bench. "I will prove them wrong. I'm not dangerous. I'm…just me. They are just ain't used to the loud-mouth-expressive versions of me yet."
"Tomorrow will be an important mission for you all," the Arbiter suddenly cuts through the murmur of the room. The sudden shift in tone made the air feel heavier. Everyone turned their gaze towards the front, where the Arbiter stood. Kiara narrows her eyes, crossing her arms together. She looks over to her friends, unsure if they're as ready as they seem.
"You'll be surveying the city making sure there are no dangers–to the civilians and our ranks," the Arbiter utters, his tone calm and measured. Alwin Dubois' head slightly pulls back, his blank expressionless eyes narrow. Zhang and Edward look cautiously at each other at the significance of the news.
As the final recruits finish seeing their choices, they are released in rows back to their barracks. Zhang, with a neutral expression, slowly walks away from the scene. The atmosphere lightens as they leave the intense situation behind–their focus turning to the looming threat ahead. Alwin Dubois gives a cold glare at the warden as he walks away in the opposite direction.
"Kiara. Will you mind waiting out for a bit?" Edward instructs, gently patting her head. "I'll need to make a quick conversation before going back home."
"Yeah sure," Kiara slides her hands in her pockets before meeting up with her friends outside. Edward follows Zhang into the dimly lit corridors. The walls felt narrow yet a sense of history dripped out the cracks and corners around him. Zhang's footsteps echo loudly in the empty halls.
"Anything on your mind," Edward mutters, his voice carrying through the narrow passage. "You've been awfully quiet."
Zhang doesn't answer immediately, his gaze focused on the textures on the walls as if something is clinging to the back of his mind.
A long palpable silence falls between them.
"Edward. When I was 6 years old, I saw the boogeyman for the last time," Zhang coldly reminisces, stepping closer to the old man. "Behind those tired eyes was the spark of a monster. What if behind Kiara's eyes is the spark of a killer?"
Edward doesn't respond, as if a shiver from the past runs down his spine.
"Kiara is not like that, unlike him," Edward utters, voice thick with memories."The boogeyman is a figment of this temple's paranoia."
"Do you know that?" Zhang questions with a genuine look on his face. "It's what he said to me: 'The wind is always shifting, leaving us with new paths in our future.' Does that not scare you?"
Edward's gaze lowers to the cold floor below him. He clenches his fist not knowing what to say.
"Yes. I'm afraid," Edward remarks, unclenching his fists. "But the boogeyman is not this shadow. I knew him myself since the day he was here and he is not this fairytale you claim him to be."
"Yet you can't even say his name," Zhang cuts in, turning his gaze over his shoulder.
A long silence falls between the two of them. No one exchanged a single line, letting the tension fester and breathe. Edward stands there, clutching his fists, knowing Zhang is right.
"The boogeyman doesn't crawl out of beds or slip through cracks. He walks among us," Zhang mutters, his voice cold and steady. "That is why you should always keep your head low and your gaze sharp. I will defend my guard so that the history's ghosts never return."
The paintings of the previous Arbiters stare on with quiet authority, their expressions stern and unyielding. The edges of the dark ornate wood frames are worn with age and time.
"Maybe that's the problem," Edward cuts in, almost a challenge.
"Maybe but the boogeymen don't wait for the right time," Zhang glances at the photos of the previous Arbiters. Their oil pastel eyes felt like they were looming over the conversation, watching over them. "We accept the truth or not. Remember techniques reflect a person's character–Kiara has the spirit of a killer."
Edward clears his throat, torn between his belief in Kiara and Zhang's words. Zhang turns his head back, walking away from Edward, his footsteps feel heavy on the marble floor. Edward is left alone with his thoughts, the silence reclaiming itself in the corridors around him. The paintings were observing him through the veil of their legacy.