Royal Blood

Allayah

A muted gunshot is what I hear, another one and another one. All hit the targets head. Another one bites the dust. Target practice is good, I am good at it shit and shit people are whispering like it's a mantra of some sort, thinking no one is hearing. But all of us can hear it, too bad, they can't hit the target. Unlike me who is perfect at it.

People have their own columns to practice in next to each other. Thin walls divide us, there is fake grass and mannequins at the end with their heads painted red and a bull's eye in the middle.

"Do you want to take a break; we've been at it for a while." I hear Trish say in my mind. The mind link as they call it, it is supposed to be reserved for the one apparently at least that is how the private link is supposed to work, but our gossip is much more important to us than our love lives.  There are two types of links a common one and a private one. The common one is used for a group of people together, you can limit it to any number of people. 

Hitting the last target, I relax my hand and my gun disappears from my hand. 

My weapon of choice are guns. All elites are given a choice to choose their weapon when they reach fifteen. That weapon binds itself to your soul, and it can be summoned as per your demands. There are many stories and epics about the choosing. It is also said that the weapon chooses its master. Gunners are still uncommon though, many of the other elites prefer to use more... traditional weapons. Swords, bow-arrows etc.

"Let's get out of here." I speak, grabbing a small towel from my locker along with all the other lockers that are on the opposite wall. I leave the room along with Trish. As soon as we step out, the ACs cold air greets us. The sweat evaporating leaves a cooling effect on my skin. 

Our outfits change, inside the practice room, we were wearing white jumpsuits and now we are wearing our uniforms. Trish is a black buttoned up shirt tucked in a white pleated skirt, matching black knee-high socks. She wears a pearl pendant and a French beret at the back of her head along with a Louis Vuitton purse on her shoulder. I am wearing a white buttoned shirt with a black vest and black dress pants. 

"Why don't we go eat before our shifts starts." I ask, rolling up my sleeves. 

We both work at the same place, The Angels. Five-star restaurant for the filthy rich, a place Mike frequents quite often. The Elites Conservative Society's sworn enemy, brother of Valeria-the current queen of Azure, and the owner of the UMC basically everyone hates him.

I the waiter and Trish the customer, are tasked to spy on him by the top three. Usually, the lower elites do this but none of them are available today, so we came instead. My shift is on Mondays and Wednesdays.

I made the excuse of an emergency class due to the teacher being absent to Cyrus, he didn't believe it since he knowns my schedule and that I have no class on Friday, but I gave him a sweet smile and he melted. Gullible Cyrus.

"Yes, I know a good cafe that just opened near The Angels." 

"Then, what are we waiting for." I say, entangling my arm through hers.

.

"I'll go in first as decided and then you guys come in, okay?" I ask, making an ok symbol with my hands. Isa and Zeher decided to join us. They are human correspondents working with us today and let me tell you one thing Zeher is one hell of an asshole, absolute bullshit person.

Isa with her green eyes and baby pink dress looks the youngest among us even though she is the oldest twenty-eight years old, she even has a green ribbon in her hair and a Dior handbag. Why do these people look so good and then there is me. Oh well. Zeher is wearing a blue hoodie with loose jeans. His messed-up hair looks awful as usual. He brags about it too much saying how girls love his messy hair and appearance. In my opinion he looks like he came out of the garbage bin.

I tie my hair in a low pony, like all the other waiters and servers. I walk in the kitchen through the back door and keep my head down.

"YOU." That startled me, I don't recognize that voice, Adam is the head chef then who is he.

"Take this to table twelve." He says, passing me a plate of a neatly garnished steak. What the fuck, does he think I am an actual waiter. Jack, it says on his name plate on his chest. He is a big man with red hair, probably in his middle thirties. "I am not an actual waiter"; I speak in my mind hoping to reach him.

"Why are you still standing here?" Jack says crossing his arms. He ushers me to the actual dining room for customers. I stand still, where the fuck is this table twelve.

"Why did you say you are not an actual waiter." Isa asks in my mind. I give a smile to a passing customer, and he decides to ignore it. 

"Why is Jack here and where is table twelve?" I say randomly moving across the room. There is yellow lighting and slow jazz playing. The gold embellishments on the walls and the giant floor to ceiling chandelier in the middle of the room gives it a grand feel.

"Who's Jack?" Zeher asks.

"Adam is not here and please tell me where is table twelve before this steak gets cold." I say, getting irritated.

"Move left, fifth table next to the window." I hear Trish say, she is a life saver. I give the people their fucking steak and head back to the kitchen. 

"So, there is a bit of a problem." Isa says.

"What now?" I speak

"Adam is down with fever and Jack is his fill in." Zeher says, when did this bitch start caring about me or the plan.

"Oh yeah, he just sent me out." I am really trying my best not to shout at them. According to the plan I am supposed to come out to serve the guys and then stay there. Right now, they haven't even entered this fucking restaurant.

"It is all sorted now and Allie." Trish says.

"What?" I say clenching my teeth.

"Don't shout at him, he is new." Trish says.

"I don't fucking care." I say cutting off the link. He shouldn't be on the job if he can't do it. Fucking idiot. Why am I so angry, because a single mistake can blow the society's cover, the whole UMC will be reduced to nothing as Mike will succeed in his plans and the cherry on top, that is best case scenario. Worst case, everyone dies.