Hunter's Prey

The crowd of anxious and rowdy agents my opponent and I standing just outside a taped ring on the floor. Both of us are in all-black clothing, though in an odd twist, I wore loose-fitting clothing, while my opponent had much tighter-fitting clothing, obviously hoping to show off his well-built body. He was young, bold, brash, and handsome. His coffee-brown hair was slicked back, and he had a nice tan. Exactly the type of person Overseer 9 would want. He and his Agents specialised in espionage cases, capable spies for whoever could pay the price. The man was probably one of the newest agents in the top 50, and like many, he thought he’d try the expressway to the top 15- by taking down an existing agent. “Kick his ass Artemis!” Agent 15, Ulrich, called out from his spot near the front of the ring. I rolled my eyes. He also worked for OS 9, while he was in his casual clothes of black jeans and a leather jacket, he was just as built as her opponent. His looks differed, but his side-swept blonde hair, bright green eyes, and strong jawline charmed almost everyone he met. I had been a little more practical for this brawl. My clothes weren’t nearly as restricting but fitted just enough to prevent someone from grabbing me by it. My long brown hair was pulled up into a neat bun- also to prevent my opponent from using it against me. The gaze of my cold green eyes fell on Ulrich. I had a feeling Ulrich just wanted this new guy gone. He, unlike me, didn’t get challenged nearly as often. No, the new agents conveniently skipped Agents 15 through 7 and went straight for me, Agent 6. Who, just as conveniently, was the only human in the top 15. “What’s your rank?” I asked flatly, turning a cold gaze straight to my opponent. “40,” he answered proudly. “You’re not the only human in the top 50,” he sneered, “you aren’t so special.” Hm, that’s odd. It’d been a while since I was challenged by another human. Most knew to wait before being so bold. Off to the side, Ulrich snorted, “You better watch your mouth 40. Lovely Agent 6 here didn’t make it to the top for no reason.” Agent 40 shook his head, “How can you cower from her? Why haven’t you taken her spot?” The crowd erupted in laughter, which seemed to embolden 40. The poor fool. I glanced at Ulrich, who’d responded, “Because she’s kicked my ass more times than I can count. She leads the new cadet training, why are you here?” 40 smirked, “she’s just a human woman. How strong could she possibly be?” 40’s chatter started to drone on, and it was getting painful for me to keep watching him dig his own grave. “40,” I spoke using a commanding tone, taking 40 by surprise. “Unlike you, I have things to do today. I did not come here for you to bore me to death. Now, either heed your superior’s warning or stop stalling.” “Arrogant b***h,” 40 scoffed. The excitement of the crowd faded around them at his words, replaced by low mumblings. The Agents nearest to 40 mumbled him well wishes for a happy afterlife. I stepped into the ring across from me, my opponent who did the same. “Hey Artemis,” Ulrich called out, approaching me in the ring. “Don’t worry about this one, pretty sure OS 9 wants to get rid of him quickly.” Ulrich grinned nudging me, “And I know you love cleanup detail.” “Fantastic,” I rolled her eyes, facing 40, who had begun hyping himself up on the other side of the ring. He was no doubt trying to size me up, and trying to intimidate me by puffing out his chest. “Alright ladies, gents, being the next highest rank here, I have become your favourite defacto referee,” Ulrich stepped back outside the ring, gesturing around like a showman to the spectators. “We all know the rules, but to honour tradition, I will recap.” I kept my eyes on 40 as Ulrich went into his performance, I’ve seen and heard it too many times to care. I knew the rules at this point; anyone in the top 50 agents could challenge an agent in the top 15 to take their place. The winner of the fight decides the fate of the other. In 40’s case, he would’ve chosen to kill me to take my spot. I, however, had a choice, spare him, or kill him. Had he not been as arrogant, I might’ve spared him. As Ulrich’s spiel came to a close, 40 began to flex his muscles which had to be suffocating under his shirt. “Competitors ready?” Ulrich grinned. “Of course,” 40 smirked, shaking out his hands. I remained passive, giving Ulrich a half nod. “Go!” Ulrich called out. Immediately, 40 lunged at me. His eyes blazed with determined arrogance. It was easy to avoid his boxy form. He nearly disqualified himself when he almost fell out of the ring. Laughter and cheering had quickly replaced the previous silence. 40 caught himself just before he tripped out. Swinging himself back around to face me, my impassive expression upset 40 more. He charged at me, his stance ready to catch me regardless of which direction I moved. So I went back and watched every swing and grab he threw at me. 40 threw another swing, I ducked under it, my fist connected squarely to his sternum easily taking the wind out of him. He wasn’t given the chance to steady himself before I took his feet out from under him. I shoved 40 to the floor and glanced at Ulrich, who was grinning like a madman. He tossed me a small object which I caught. The heavy little object was a normal flip blade issued to all agents. The small blade made out of 95% pure silver, is perfect for killing off Vampires, Wolves, Witches, Hunters, and generally anything that lives and breathes. Seeing the small silver blade caused the disoriented 40 to scramble back from me, now looking much less confident in his chances. “Do you know how many challengers I’ve faced?” I asked 40, “Or how long I’ve been in the Organization?” 40 shook his head in a moment of hesitation. “Exactly. Now stand up and fight,” I commanded. 40 scrambled to his feet, this time looking much more ready. Twisting the knife in my hand, I gave 40 another chance to make the first decision. He stood ready but didn’t react as brashly as before, so I obliged him. I charged, aiming for another sucker punch, but changing my direction at the last minute. 40 was too slow to stop my directional shift. I locked my left leg between his and forced him down to his knees. 40 swung his arm around in a wild attempt to protect himself and got lucky. His strike might’ve knocked me back if I hadn’t been balanced properly. I jammed the blade into the arm that’d hit me and 40 yelled out in pain, jerking himself harshly this time taking me off my feet. I rolled away as 40 made a feeble attempt to kick me while I was downed. He moved to stomp on me in desperation, but I shifted to the side being narrowly avoided, then grabbed onto his boot, keeping him in place while I swung my other leg between his and forced 40 into a very painful split. 40 dropped the knife as he’d attempted to use it on me, which I quickly grabbed and used to slice his Achilles tendon. His scream of pain sounded much more desperate. I rolled away from him and stood, facing him, and watched as he struggled to stand. “Okay, okay, I yield,” 40 cried out. “That was never an option,” I tilted my head as he managed to stand on his only good leg. “There are only two ways to get out of this spar alive. By winning, or by being spared.” I continued to give him the blank stare I’d become synonymous with, “and I’m not going to spare you.” 40 paled, either through realization or blood loss. He attempted to hobble to the door, only to be blocked by the peers that had once egged him on. He was pushed back into the ring, at some point, I might’ve left him at that- in a terror that would stick with him every time he was reminded of me. Leaving him a living witness to why newcomers should think before they challenge me, and letting him spread more tales of how quickly I could take down opponents twice my size. I was tired of playing nice. Mercy did not exist in the Organization’s mentality, and I have had 15 years of that drilled into me. Why should I keep showing Mercy and kindness when no one has shown me such? I walked towards 40, who had resorted to attempting to crawl through the crowd. I made it a point to step on his injured leg to keep him from moving. For a moment, my stony face broke from nothing to something of pure disgust. How did someone like this make it to the top 50 in the first place? No wonder OS 9 wanted him gone, and if I had to guess, OS 9 set him up for this. While 40 probably thought it was a promotion offer, even OS 9 knew it was suicide. By now, the crowd was cheering for me to end 40’s life. I reached down and yanked 40 by his once perfectly kept hair and dragged him back into the ring. I dropped him in the centre addressing the crowd, “If you have any final thoughts for 40, here’s your chance.” “Aren’t you the cute little sadistic bug,” Ulrich grinned as I moved past agents who have certain… quarrels with 40. “I thought you enjoyed the smell of fresh blood in the morning,” I responded, watching agents having a go at 40, tearing into his flesh with knives, claws, and teeth. Ulrich’s green eyes flash briefly, his fangs showing in his sinister smile, “Oh I do. Why else would I be your biggest fan? You always spoil me with a show.” I watched the agents slowly part from the snow mutilated, but still alive Agent 40. “And dinner,” I added. “Oh, I had a big breakfast,” Ulrich sighed, “but I appreciate you always keeping me in mind.” He pinched my cheeks, “though seeing you smile would make my day.” My hard glare turned to Ulrich as he immediately put his hands up in mock surrender, “Apologies m’lady. I forget how sensitive you are when it comes to physical contact.” “Alright,” I announced, “Wrap this up, I have places to be.” The remaining agents parted as I approached the barely conscious agent 40. Although I’d allowed them to get their own petty revenge on him, they all knew the rules. This was meant to be between me and Agent 40, which meant I was going to deliver the final blow. I pulled a blade from 40’s leg and looked down into his eyes. While there was still life, there was no more will to fight. This is your Mercy. I jammed the knife into his throat. It wasn’t going to be a quick death by any means, his last moments were going to be suffocation, but he’d already been beaten to the brink, and he wasn’t going to last more than 3 minutes. I stood and wiped the blood from my hands as I headed straight out the door. The other agents whooped and hollered with approval as I made my way out. “You’re cleaning this up,” I commented to Ulrich as I passed. He shrugged and bowed with a grin. I walked through the concrete halls of the Organization’s headquarters back to my private room. Most of the people I passed pretended to hold my gaze, pretending indifference to anything about me. I entered the quiet echoing hall that led to my room, leaving behind the noise of working chatter and scattering steps. I had a meeting with my Overseer, OS 13. This wasn’t too uncommon, she frequently kept me busy with various assignments all over the world, typically quick retrievals and assassinations. No assignment ever took very long, and the downtime between was never more than a week. Not that it ever bothered me either. What did bother me, was having sticky and dried blood on my clothing and skin. Then again, even if it hadn’t bothered me, you don’t enter a meeting with your boss covered in gore. I walked into the attached bathroom, taking off my shirt to change. I caught my own hard gaze in the mirror, and still, I failed to recognize the woman before me. I had been told cosmetics loved working on me. “Plain Jane.” That’s what they nicknamed me. I had generic features, straight brown hair, dull green eyes, and fair skin with faint freckles, but I had decent enough bone structure, and years of training and working in the Organization left me thin and toned. Plain enough to blend into a crowd, pretty enough to attract any person I wanted. The ideal canvas for Cosmetics. I sighed, grabbing a towel and wetting it to get cleaned up. I had to get ready quickly, OS 13 had another assignment, and with their range of services, who knew what I was going to do next?