Lucky Shot (A Warrior Nun Story)

The Girl in the Basement

Beatrice Young has never considered herself especially lucky. When she fell off her brand-new bike on her sixth birthday and skinned her knee so badly she swore it would have to be amputated (it wasn't), she didn't feel lucky. When she forgot her book report at home in grade seven and ended up having to improvise her presentation on The Great Gatsby to a less than impressed Mrs. Geltch (major asshole, by the way) and snickering classmates (also assholes), she didn't feel lucky. And she especially didn't feel lucky when her father caught her with her hand down the pants of Isla Tooney in her bedroom during her sixteenth birthday party. Suffice it so say, Beatrice Young never cared much for luck. Or, rather, luck didn't seem to care much for Beatrice Young.

This shared indifference between Beatrice and Lady Luck worked well for her. She had gotten by well enough on her own merit and hard work. She had scraped by and fought her way through so many glass ceilings that the presence (or, more accurately for Beatrice, complete absence) of luck felt less and less important and necessary as time went by. Beatrice didn't believe in luck, she didn't need it.

But now, Beatrice Young was second-guessing her preconceived beliefs about luck. She thought that, perhaps, that luck was there all along. Maybe her little angel of luck was just waiting and building up an arsenal of luck magic (if that's even what you could call it), and saving up all of the luck she had been deprived of for the last twenty-five years for this moment.

Beatrice Young found herself in a compromising position which, though not completely unheard of for her line of work, did not typically leave her feeling the way she felt at this very moment. Beatrice Young, unit leader of the Order of the Sword was currently being pinned to the ground with a small knife pressed to her larynx, staring into the scowling face of perhaps the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The woman had short brown hair that somehow seemed to shimmer in the disgustingly fluorescent lights of the sub-basement they found themselves in. Her eyes were a captivating deep brown color that, despite the scowling hatred they seemed to hold in this moment, seemed to go on forever in an endless puddle of warmth. Her lips, as Beatrice had so conveniently noticed, were plump and pink and soft. Or, at least, Beatrice assumed they were soft, but how could they not be?

The woman had Beatrice pinned to the ground with her legs bracketing Beatrice's hips and her forearm not connected to the hand holding a knife to her throat was thrown across Beatrice's chest to keep her in place. Beatrice was trapped, unable to move or thrash the woman off of her any longer. Beatrice Young was truly and completely at the mercy of this mysterious (and clearly dangerous) woman. Beatrice watched as the woman's lips screwed into a terrifying smirk and her eyes darkened substantially. The weight of this beautiful woman on top of her led her to feel countless emotions which, for the first time as far as she could recall, included Lady Luck herself.

//

"Captain, remind me again why we were pulled away from our delicious dinner to walk around this old, abandoned hospital." Lilith's voice rang through Beatrice's earpiece and yielded an amused eye-roll from the Captain. Beatrice adjusted the gun she was holding up against her shoulder before answering her Lieutenant.

"What? Are you saying you would rather be back at the base scarfing down sweet Camila's food than be here with your dear Captain and closest friend roaming the halls of this house of healing?" Beatrice finished with a slight chuckle and could hear Lilith's exasperated sigh coming through the earpiece.

"Not sure how much healing is going on around here nowadays...I mean, seriously, how has this place not been condemned and torn down by the city already?" Lilith had a point, Beatrice thought. After all, St. Michael's had been abandoned for almost five years at this point after allegations of abuse from the nuns in charge of the children's ward came to light. Beatrice remembered reading about it in the paper and feeling her heart clench for the kids that had been subject to such horrific abuses for so long. Beatrice shook the thoughts from her mind and focused back on the task at hand.