CSSSA C (2003)

Someone asked me the other day, when I was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria presently alone, if I could imagine my life being any different than what it was now. If I could see myself as being a normal kid who went to school and ate with people their own age. Who went to dances with pretty girls and hung out with guys whose main goal in life wasn't to kill you. The question made me realize something. Forced me to see what taking orders all my life had done to me. My answer had been a flat and truthful no, but had sent my mind spinning into a typhoon of ifs and buts and the possibilities of life.

It was only twenty-five hours since the question had been asked and I already found myself on the training grounds sliding extra ammunition into my clothes with two cocked and ready guns waiting patiently in front of me. Everybody else was already out on the field, in the midst of scrambling to get into their team lines. I would be the last one out, but I didn't plan to be lining up today. I had decided to do the unthinkable. To Run.

I checked my two chosen guns, making sure that they were ready and wouldn't jam on me. It had happened one too many times before, and I knew that in order to get out alive, to get as far as the gates alive, I needed working weapons. I slipped one into the holster under my shirt on my back, I left the next laying down while I hid two six inch knives up my sleeves. A soft click and the shuffle of clothing seized my attention right as I was clicking the safety off my exposed weapon. When I looked up I caught sight of Roan, my roommate, standing just inside the door. I threw a crooked grin and stood from the five-year-old stool that had been my seat. The movement caused the thing to creak loudly and between my mental curses, I winced. I hated loud noises, especially when I caused them.

Assassins didn't live too long if they were loud.