The Memories of Night | 18+

𝗢𝗻𝗲

𝗔𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗱

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𝗢𝗻𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵 𝗔𝗴𝗼

It was a cold dreary night in New York City when I discovered the tavern.

I was walking down Duffield Street, it was a winter night, and another snowstorm was about to start. The clouds were low and it was that time between when one storm ends and another begins. The city hadn't managed to clear the sidewalks yet, so I was watching my feet crunch into the freshly fallen snow. The air was cold, and brittle, it felt like it was slicing the exposed skin of my face as I came up to the brick building. A neon sign was flickering, almost like it was fighting to stay on while I read the name of the place. Lucky's Tavern. It wasn't a normal spot I would go to, normally I'd be in the busiest nightclubs in town, but tonight wasn't a normal night, in fact, it was one night I hope I never remember.

I got assigned to Washington, my father changed my paperwork and I was going to be joining the FBI's top assassin squad.

I shook off the thought. All my friends were assigned out of the country, to do less lethal jobs. The jobs I had begged my parents to let me do all my life. I didn't want to be an assassin when I grew up, I didn't want to be the person who decided when someone took their last breath. But I didn't have a choice when I was growing up, so it was comical to believe I had a choice now. I knew my upbringing was different, I won't say it was wrong, even though I feel like it was, but I knew my upbringing was different when I was around seven, my friends from school were playing with Barbies, and I was doing martial arts, ballet, and learning how to throw knives. When I reached high school, I realized that I wasn't going to public school anymore when my mother passed it, I was going to the training school in the FBI, where my parents worked as spies. There were only ten of us, and while we earned our diplomas, we were also doing specialized training.

It was the United States version of the Red Room, and only no one knew about it, therefore it couldn't be shut down, or criticized. They made weapons before we were eighteen.

I shook my fingers out before I pulled open the door, tonight I wouldn't be Astrid King, daughter of Gilbert and Belle King, tonight I would get to be a nobody. And that was such an enticing thought. To use my training in my personal life, to be able to blend into the shadows for my own use, I wanted to hide, drown myself in alcohol to hide from my anger and anguish, and then I would go back to my apartment to enjoy the last three weeks in the only place I've ever called home. I'd still see my parents every day, but maybe I could pretend I wasn't mad for all of our sakes, me being angry at them wasn't going to change the fact I was already assigned to the facility, I would go or face punishment, and punishment was something I never tolerated.

Icy air followed me in as the door shut behind me. A bouncer smiled at me and offered a name that I missed because he said it right as someone smacked a pool ball, and asked for my coat and gloves before gesturing to the bar. The tavern felt homely, lights dimmed and only offered a golden glow, like candles lighting the room, everyone seemed to keep to themselves. A group of people worked on their laptops in the corner, a small group laughed around the billiards table, other patrons scattered about, some were talking, and others kept to themselves.

This was the place to disappear.

I stopped my feet against the mat, shaking off any remaining snow before I stepped into the main area. There was only one bartender, he didn't seem to be too talkative, which was perfect for me, I didn't want to talk. I wanted to drown in my own sorrow, the sorrow of my own making. I pulled out the wooden stool, sliding onto it as he looked up at me, a striking man, with dark brown hair and emerald green eyes. If it was another night, maybe I'd flirt with him, but I didn't want that today, all I wanted was to drink and ignore my emotions. "What can I get you?" He asked as he watched me fish my ID out of my pocket, setting it on the bar top.