Remember me

Dreaming

"Morning. How'd you sleep?" Smiles Eight, pouring me coffee.

I pant, my face as red as the scar on Eight's neck.

"Uh, yeah, fine thanks," I stammer.

"Did you have that dream again?" He asks, handing me my mug with a big indigo nine on it.

I nod sourly, accepting the drink.

I have always been jealous of Eight's smooth tanned skin and bright green eyes that sparkle like emeralds. He is probably the best looking agent in the whole of the Order. He is also currently the youngest of the top ten, (with the exception of 16 year old me) being only 17, but it's taken him some years to make it here in the top ten.

"Kitty, I advise you to not mention your dream to anyone else in the Order. If they find out you got around the regulations... It's not going to be pretty." He says, lowering his voice.

"I wasn't planning on."

He doesn't change expression, but he fixes his eyes into the mug of coffee.

Kitty isn't my real name. As part of the regulations, I am required to forget everything about my past, including my name. Our names are replaced with a number depending on your ranking of your level of skill. Every year you are rescored, and so your number may change. The newest agents trend to be higher numbers, beside they lack in experience and they also are generally younger. The better agent you are, the lower score you will get, meaning one is the highest agent in the whole Order. No one had ever seen One. Except Two, who who does some close work with One. By "no one" I mean no agents. The people who run the Order obviously have, and of course no normal people have. I have been Nine ever since I came, when I was seven. I hold the record for the youngest agent in the too ten, probably the youngest agent ever. Strictly speaking, I wouldn't have been let I at all in fear of bring badly hurt or in danger, but both had already occurred to me, and once they saw my level of skill they were almost forced to let me in. I was ranked ninth, and have been ever since. Agents often walk past me and say to me "are you THE Nine?" And I just smile and say "Call me Kitty,".

Kitty is a nickname for me, because nine times I was announced dead, although I had either faked my death or was in hiding. People started joking that I had nine lives, and that I was secretly a cat. So people started calling me "Kitty".

A couple of weeks ago, I was let out to find out something about a group of serial killers. They are like assassins, but they work for free. While on the job, I had stumbled across my old home, which triggered the forbidden memory, and left me in an outrageous state of shock. I couldn't eat. I couldn't drink. I couldn't speak. I couldn't sleep. I was mentally and physically frozen, my body bit bring able to move. That is the result of the regulations, if you break them your body instantly sets off a temporary shock that runs all around your body. But I got it worse, because half of it wasn't the regulations. It was pure shock. I was immediately pulled out of the task, set for about a month of rest and relaxation. It sounds like paradise, but I can't stop itching to find out why the case led me to my old home, and what on earth serial killers have anything to do with a small broken house. Also since the incident, the Order leaders decided it would be safer if two other agents were by my side all the time, so Eight and Six volunteered, and moved their mattresses into my room. It's no luxury like our usual rooms, but it's only temporary. The top ten agents Getty their own room, the better agent you Ste the better Room you have. Apparently One's room is like a kingdom. Everyone else has to share with four other agents.

There was a knock on the door, and Eight raised his eyebrows, cringing while slowly opening the door.

To our relief, it was Six who burst through the door.

"I've got good news," Six spluttered. "Kitty's allowed back on the field," she says, beaming.