24 Hours

1:00 a.m.

I blinked at the man. Was he joking?

Raven's steely eyes bore into me. I already knew the answer to my question before I asked. No, he isn't joking.

Instead, I asked, "When did my time start?"

"At midnight," he replied. He glanced down at a black wristwatch. "It's one a.m. now."

"But couldn't you have..."

"Given you a full twenty-four hours? Yes, if you had woken up at midnight. But you didn't. This isn't your timetable, is ours. Now quit flapping your gums and let's get started with the briefing."

I gulped. I could feel myself breaking into a cold sweat.

"Cougar," the boss said. "Get the projector."

The body-builder from before stepped from behind me, carrying an enormous screen in one hand and a projector in the other. His muscles were barely even flexing from the strain.

I wonder what stuff he's on.

"Thank you. Parrot, untie his legs and hands."

A man with shaggy black hair approached me, a dagger in hand. I wanted to close my eyes, but my eyelids were paralyzed in fear. All my brain could think was, That's a knife. It looks sharp. I might die right now.

He grabbed my wrists with his long, nimble fingers and slipped the blade underneath the rope. In one swift motion, he pulled the knife upwards. He stopped the motion short of coming anywhere near me, but I could still see the blade zooming towards my face, its sharp edge slicing my skin. I shuddered, my eyes flying shut.

"Hold still," Parrot commanded. I froze, not wanting my movement to affect the trajectory of cutting the binds on my feet. The dagger sliced the ropes like butter.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I was unharmed.

Parrot must have sensed my discomfort, since he said, "You good?" I nodded slightly. He shrugged and hopped onto the edge of the desk.

The entire experience was honestly a huge win for me. I had such terrible aichmophobia that the sharpest knife that I kept in my home was plastic. Not the most renewable source for cutting food, but I hadn't been able to come up with something better.

By the time the whole ordeal was over, the boss had set up the projector with a slide show. I found it slightly humorous that we were going to watch a powerpoint presentation on the crime we were about to commit.

"Before we get started," the boss began, "I need to introduce you to the rest of your team. I'll only be telling you our alias.' If you want an alias different from Jordan, just let us know. We'll come up with a code name."

I bit my tongue to keep myself from saying that Jordan actually was an alias, since my real name was Claude.

"I'm known as The Raven," he continued. "I'm the brains of all of the jobs we pull. You report to me, and only to me. You do what I say, and only what I say."

The burly man with blond hair stepped forward next. He was so muscular, that his entire presence seemed to fill the room. "I'm Cougar, the muscleman of the group. I specialize in brute strength and weapons. And no, I'm not on steroids."

Well, at least one of my questions was answered.

"I'm Falcon," an African-American said next. "I'm the getaway driver."

A tall woman seemed to materialize from the shadows. I hadn't noticed her before since blended in with the darkness, dressed head to toe in black. Her chestnut brown hair was swept up in a neat bun, and her golden eyes glinted in the dim light.