Underground

The Rookie

That was a wild night. Also a disappointing one. The killer was right there, but I choked. If Allton finds out, then I'm as good as toast. But toast is amazing, so I'll be fine.

Something feels off today, like something important is going to happen. Mr. Rook looks the same, tired, old, tired, the usual. Allton looks normal, too. Maybe I'm just paranoid, Allton's said that before. He's said a lot of things like that, but he's joking. 

I think he is. I'll just... let it go, relax. If something happens, like the door knocking, I'll deal with it then. 

*knock knock*

wut

...that's probably nothing. The door knocks all the time. Everyone ignores it, assuming it's another mailman or something. 

Then the doorbell rings.

That never happens. I jump a bit, mildly panicking, incredibly confused, and choking on my toast. I catch Mr. Rook give Allton a signal, and he heads over to open the door.

The kid at the door is short. Then again, everything looks short to me, and they look about as tall as Allton. Mr. Rook waddled over to the kid, acting as if they've met. He led the kid inside, and the moment they saw me they choked, like me and my toast.

They did look familiar, but it didn't click until I noticed the tail. I like it. It's not off-putting, it seems natural on them, I like the way this kid looks. Once they remember how to breathe again, Mr. Rook turns to address me.

"Ringer, I probably should've told you this sooner, but you need a partner. You do good, but even ringers need ringers."

"What do you mean? I-"

"Stop. This is a decision that you don't have a say in. Ringer, meet... what's your name kid?"

"Oh! Um, I don't really have one?"

"What do you mean you don't have one? Everyone has a name!"

"Well, no one in my family does! We went off age role. Like Oldest, Youngest, etcetera."

"What were you called at home?"

"Second oldest."

"That's just sad."

It is sad. Imagine not having a true identity? God, I bet that'd be awful... 

"Finally, someone who agrees."

Good, Second Oldest Agrees. I hate that name, and it's not even mine.

"You should've been called youngest."

"I am 22!"

"Oh."

So, small rookie 22 year old who's androgynous as shit. I like them. Sure they're probably here to kill someone, but it's fine. We're fine, I'm fine, everyone is, was, and will be fine.

Allton leaves to talk to his dad about something, probably misogyny, they're both awful with women. But they leave the kid with me, alone, so they take the chance to talk to me.

"Are you Ash? You look like him. You're tall, have dark hair, and look like a roulette table fucked a deck of cards. Hell, I'd be more shocked if you weren't him."

"Hah, that's one I've never heard. Yeah, I'm Ash. How'd you know?"

"Reasons that I can't disclose."

"Fair. You sure you don't have a name?"

"Oh, I have multiple. I just didn't know which were in the clear here."

"Damn. You know what this business is?"

"Everyone here gives off Casino-fucking vibes. Even the old guy. But knowing what I know, this looks like a more organized assassination business."

"Right on the money."

"Knew it."

"How did you?"

"You learn after a while. Just common knowledge where I grew up. How about you, 'Ringer.' What made you join this? Are you that good?"

"No. Not at all. I don't know why they call me that, but I hate-"

"RINGER."

Mr. Rook's voice booms from the other room, he sure does know how to command a crowd. 

"WHAT?"

"Show Cookie around, why don't you. Make it look like you have a purpose."

"Fine. Come on, small fry."

Why'd I call them that-