Heart Hunter

2

Ivy

If someone told me I'd be in this situation a month ago, I would have laughed in their face.

Each of my palms hit the two huge doors of the main room, pushing them with every strength I had left from running for hours.

The cold air of the main room hits me as soon as the doors push open. I feel my inmate uniform stuck to parts of my torso from all the sweat this running has caused me.

Every breath of mine is heavy. My head is spinning, my legs are sore. I barely stand, but I don't back down. Answers are needed.

Sweat dripping from my forehead, onto my temple and down the sides of my face. The front pieces of my satin wig are stuck to my face and damp from my sweat. I push them away as I step into the room.

I usually have a mask and a hood on, but I had to take them off in order to put the orange bodysuit.

I carefully enter the room, making sure nobody hears me.

Yeah, right. Like that's ever gonna happen.

Not one step inside of the room, and every gun was turned at me.

Nobody was allowed to enter without knocking.

Let's be honest, would you knock if you were in my situation?

Hands shaking.
Knees shaking.
Heart running with a million milles an hour.

No energy left.

The room was cold, quiet to the point every heartbeat is heard. Its dark, the only light in the room is from the monitors. There's 10 guards, 5 on each side, have their guns turned at my heart and ready to shoot.

I dont say a word and just stare. Not at them, but at the sight before me.

35 monitors. A chair. A man.

His back is turned toward me, but that doesn't stop me from recognising him. He raised one hand and spoke with his raspy and scary voice.

'Gentlemen. Lower the guns.'

And then the chair turned.

'It was nice when I didn't have to see your face, Master Scar.'

Master Scar's lips curled into a evil smirk. His 70 year old face as wrinkly as I know it.

'Nice things never last long, ' His voice is raspy, creepy even. 'Poison Ivy.' He continued.

When I didn't say anything, he talked again. 'Its nice to see you again.'

My tall figure stood infront of the smirking man now.

His face was way clearer now. I watched the corners of his lips turn into a bigger smirk, as his face became even more wrinkly.

We - the agents at Stealth Unit - call the master 'Scar' because of his appearance. He had a big scar travelling from his eyebrow, through his eye and ends at one of the corners of the lips.

His scarred iris was pale white, giving the illusion as if it wasn't even there.

Its very rare, but if you ever catch it, you'll see another scar. A little lower, on the neck. Who knows how many scars this man has? How many fight he has been in?

'If you think that its nice to see me, why didn't you do something so you could see me sooner?'

I lower myself, balancing on the sides of his chair. I don't see it, but I just know the guards have their guns raised again.