Traitor

Traitor              

I wonder, could anyone ever be as good as me? I mean, I am the best. No one at the ‘academy’ was any match Compared to me they were all domestic, little puppies, not blood draining assassins to be. But me, I could beat anyone in any fight I wished, and my shot was nothing to sneeze at either. I was rarely more than a centimetre off center, and that was on my off days.

            Back to the original question; could someone, a girl no less, ever be my match? I’d like to think not, the boys who had trained their whole lives with me were all mediocre compared to me, not that they were bad, just not at par with me, but then again the only thing the trainers had on me was experience. Yet this rich institute believed that not only did they had someone they assumed to be better and more skilled than I, but it was a teenage girl! And, not only that, but she was a year younger than me, at only 17!

            I was to meet her now, in the observation room for a school building. This one in particular was a deep green, matching into the forest around it. The entrance was hard to pick out, but the texture was slightly different making it possible. I shoved my body against the door and slipped in. This floor was like any other high school, excluding the lockers, there were none of those. White plaster walls with designs painted on them, probably trying to cover up blood stains among other things, what more would you expect from an exclusive, government employed, top secret spy school? Here only a few luckily born got in. Another reason I found it hard to believe this rich, never heard of hardship, girl could be more talented than I. Maybe she got in a fight with someone for insulting her hair and things got bloody. The school tried to cover it up. Only thing was, there was no blood nor stains on the black tinted tile floor. There were no windows, nothing that could have been shot through. But directly right of the door there was a red tinged granite staircase with matching railing.

            I made me way over the stairs, ones that were going directly diagonal across the wall, as though they were cut in half and glued on. Once I was at the complete opposite corner, I opened anther door, this one white and matching in with the ceiling as though they were trying to hide. I shook my head, but threw the door open anyways by tossing it up, instead of it dropping down. It was smart because if someone were to fall they would fall through. It was great for fights in the observation lab, too. Someone wouldn’t land on the door, accidently twist the handle, or have it just not closed properly, and fall through to the floor, saving some broken bones. And by the second staircase, this one just a plain brown wood one, with a small silver hand rail, I knew it would be easy for someone to fall down.

            As I pulled myself up through the door and had just taken my first step up the stairs, the door slammed shut with a metallic click. I snapped my attention back to the poorly lit door I had just escaped but I couldn’t even pick it out the outline, as though there was only a solid floor, and the only thing I could think was, man, something horrible must have happened here. Scenarios start to race through my brain, each worse than the last, pushing me to run up the near invisible stairs.

            It was as though someone had flipped a switch, for as soon as I was free from the stairwell light flooded over me. Real light, not electric. The room I was in was nothing but windows, ones I couldn’t make out from the outside looking in. There was a complete 360◦ view, one leading out to share a fight going on outside between two people, seemingly student and teacher. Standing there watch it all was a tall, old man. His flimsy arms were wrapped behind his boney back, traces of his spinal cord visible through his gray-blue t-shirt, his blue jeans flooding over his long legs, giving him the illusion of shortness.

            “Come here,” the man ordered, never glancing my way.            

“And if I don’t want to?” I inquired, daring him. I mean, who did this old badger think I was? Did he not know what I could do to him?