All For You

Twenty-seven

Isla

"I don't trust him," Warner tells me, his voice staticky through the phone. I roll my eyes and ignore his blubbering, slipping on my running shoes.

I tap on the bathroom door, reminding August to hurry up, and secure a mask around my ears. With fully black attire, my weapons hidden underneath my hoodie, and a cap over my hair, I look just like I did when I was an assassin. Dark, hidden, inconspicuous. To any unsuspecting passerby, I'd look like I'm just going for a jog.

I sigh at my phone, sitting on one of the beds in August and I's hotel room. I'm not so sure I trust Harold Kartman either. It would be smarter to assume this is another one of the nameless organisations plans. To catch me off guard. To play with me. To hurt my family and then blame it on me for trusting anyone but myself. To teach me a lesson, like I'm still one of their slaves.

Maybe I am. Maybe this is their way of showing me. I'll never escape. No matter how far I run, I'll always be an organisation puppet.

I try to convince myself not to do it. To stay far from Harold Kartmans ploys. There's so much to gain, but so much more to lose. My thoughts jumble. There will always be so much more to lose. There always has been. The organisation will take and take and take until I stop them for good.

Is this the only way? I could come up with another plan. If I just sat down and thought it through, I could find another way. But I've tried, and how much longer will I need? How much time am I costing by trying and inevitably failing to come up with a plan that will never guarantee our win?

Harold's plan isn't a guarantee either, but it's feeding the hope growing inside of my stomach anyway. Because he's right. Overthrowing the organisation with their own weapons is the only way. There's too many of them to fight off with the army we have now—but if our enemy's army became ours? If we somehow convinced them to turn their anger and their guns towards the people who hold their chains?

It could work. I'm not sure how much of Kartman's story I trust, but if he really worked like a slave for thirteen years before being promoted to his cushy drug dealer job and has been planning a revolution in secret for all this time, he'll know what he's doing. He'll know the ins and outs of the organisation better than any of us. But does that make him trustworthy?

"I'll get you into that party. That's where it'll start. Once they see you, alive and well and taunting those that kept you prisoner for so long, it won't take long for word to spread. And then all you'll need to do is get your revenge. Slowly, publically. Show them who you are."

That's what he told me, and it's a tempting deal, I'll give Mr. Kartman that. He's telling me to overthrow the organisation, the government, while getting my revenge all at once. I'd be killing two birds with one stone, and they would never see me coming.

But I won't make a decision until I'm sure Mr. Kartmen is on our side. I won't let him fool me. I won't let my guard down. If that's what they want me to do, I'll show them just how well they trained me.

"Are you guys ready? You know what to say, right?" I ask tiredly. I'm not sleeping very well again. What with all the stress and all the decision making I have to do, my mind won't shut up. Still, even with broken sleep and a raging mind, I can't be sleeping any worse than I always did at the organisation.

"You made us memorise the lines, remember?" Nick yells from somewhere in the background, laughter in his voice like he's mocking me.

"Just be careful. Chances are, someone from the organisation will be there. Probably an assassin, but I doubt they'll have orders to kill anyone. They'll try to stop the meeting, but just keep going," I remind them all, drilling into their minds how serious they need to take this meeting.