John expected many things from his newest mission. But seeing the woman he was ordered to kill over a decade prior, now on his own squad, was not one of them.
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This can be read as either an x reader (No use of Y/N) or an OC. Whilst the main charact...
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CHAPTER ELEVEN WHO ARE YOU?
Chapter Warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of a bad childhood, crying.
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The gloves felt heavy in her bruised hands. The leather, although smooth, felt like daggers cutting into her skin. The red scythe was almost blinding now; all it reminded her of was the many lives she took in the past; and yet, some part of her couldn't let it go. She had the chance to be rid of any reminder of her past – to lay rest to her old uniform... but she didn't.
It was like a part of her was holding onto the strings of her past and refused to let go.
A deep sigh left her lips. Her hands rubbed her face, fingers digging into her eyes. She felt the bench dip slightly beside her. She didn't have to look at him to know it was Price, the mere scent of his cologne confirmed who he was. He sat there silent, his foot tapping slowly against the floor as he waited for her to speak.
She placed the leather gloves down beside her, dropping them as though they burned her skin.
"I knew her..." she whispered; her voice barely audible as she spoke.
John finally turned to look at her, his eyes holding a speck of compassion in them. His lips were in a tight line on his face as he stayed silent, waiting for her to continue speaking. He wanted to know more, it seemed.
"The girl by the bin... A-402... she was a few years younger than me, got brought in when I was seven... eight?" her voice was quiet, a tinge of softness in them, "She was one of those who got brought in late. Not a baby, not a toddler... a kid with a family she couldn't forget."
She paused for a moment, her elbows digging into her knees as her eyes stayed locked on the floor. The room was quiet – silent even – with only the two of them keeping it occupied. She could almost hear her heartbeat, her blood rushing through her veins. Her thoughts were loud in her mind.
A deep ache squeezed her chest.
"You know," She let out a soft breath, her eyes closing, "She fought so hard when she first came in. She yelled, she punched... she bit one of the guards. I watched her grow up, John, and-" her voice cracked.
No. No-no-no. Why was she suddenly overcome with so much emotion? She barely knew the girl; Spoke to her a few times, trained with her once or twice, sat by her quietly when she cried about missing her parents. She watched her grow up from an innocent child into an Assassin and now-
"I killed her..." she choked on her words and stood up from the bench when she felt her eyes begin to sting.
She faced the wall and wrapped her arms around herself. She was never taught to kill those she worked with. Strangely, the thought never even crossed her mind; she was more worried about failing a mission, or having her partner die during it... not about killing them.
