Choices.

"She's twelve." Adira said sharply, throwing the documents down on the desktop, sending them flying across Berkeley.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"I was seven!"

"Listen," Berk leaned on his elbows, crinkling papers beneath his weight. "You are the one who fought to have us change our way of recruitment, and you won didn't you? So what seems to be the issue here? Do you want us to take the babies right from the womb?"

Adira sighed and began pacing back and forth across the width of his small office, she refused to show him any sign of distress. Only anger, her anger. "No. You and your- your colleagues have only raised the age of recruitment. Now, the kids will remember a normal life, they'll remember what you did to them. That resentment will fester." She stopped before him again, looking him dead in the eye. "And just for your information, I fought for recruitment to be optional. Not by force."

Berkeley chortled to himself, "Adira, do you really think people would join this Guild by choice?"

"Some might. The ones who are cut out for it. Think about how much higher moral would be." The air became hot and sticky in the small office space and Adira fought her body to not break out in a sweat for Berkeley might think it as an act of weakness.

"Forget it, Adira. The Guild refuses to break tradition."

Adira scoffed and rolled her eyes, she knew better. Berkeley is the Guild and he is too lazy to change, he is too much of a man in power to care to change. As long as he collects the contract from the assassin at the end of the day he can go home and sleep in his feathered bed with a paycheck in his pocket, and not a worry in his mind as he drifts off. Still, he signalled the end of their conversation with a wave of his hand. From experience, too many experiences, Adira knew he would no longer listen if he was even listening from the beginning.

Instead of taking the door to leave, Adira launched herself over his pigsty of a desk and jumped out of the window only to grin and salute when Berk nearly fell out of the window himself, scrambling to lean over the edge to make sure she didn't injure herself, or worse. Good. The smirk spread slowly across her face and turned into a laugh when she hit the ground, landing with perfect poise.

She had a contract to collect today, another paycheck to give straight to Berk.

The city people moved out of her way, as they always did, giving her a clear path to walk. People of her Guild were easily identifiable, a tattooed word in latin across their left cheek: ministrare. To serve, the first lesson they were all taught. They dressed in black leathers no matter the heat, tight fitting outfits and shoes so they move silently and with grace. Womens hair was cut short, almost above their ears, mens cropped close to their heads. Both so that the orange studded earrings belonging only to their Guild were visible, that way they would always catch the light. Guild members were obligated to wear sharp black lines of makeup on their eyes to make them stand out, make us look dangerous. No one dared meet her eye.

Adira's feet stopped before the runners hideaway. She knew exactly why she was assigned to them. To teach a lesson to the others, show them no one can escape their Guild. They should be thankful to be brought up as they were, thankful to have a Guild to serve. Bullshit is what they're fed, lies to brainwash them into believing everything that happened was for the best.

Adira was going to prove them wrong.

She let herself inside.

Upstairs there was a soft pattering of feet, trying to hide before Adira could get to them. She was trained too well to miss the almost invisible noises and followed the contracted straight to their hiding spot.