Puppet {ManxMan}

CHAPTER 3

Carter rode with me when we left. He usually did, since he was basically a weapons expert. For the first thirty minutes we were in a helicopter, after which we switched to a black van. I know, so inconspicuous, we were basically invisible. The driver was some unnamed informant who kept giving useless facts I didn't need. I knew my mission, kill the leader of the Phoniks Vidroh. Since we knew nothing about him that meant kill everyone. I could do that no problem.

"Our sources tell us he's meeting with an informant of his own," Carter was saying as he helped secure the black clothes I was wearing, "An Austrian weapons dealer named Tobias Florian. It would be good to get rid of him as well. Since he's thrown his lot in with the rebellion we can't have him walking around."

"Fine."

"Should be simple enough, just take out all of them, including the guards," Carter secured one of the black gloves that was strapped around my wrist and forearm, then moved to the other one.

I never really understood why he insisted on doing this every time I went out. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he actually cared if I got hurt during these jobs. As if. It was strange though. He always took extra care in making sure my entire body was covered by the skin tight black body armor I wore under my other clothes. It was light and thin but strong as steel, a fancy kind of fabric the scientists came up with so we wouldn't have to wear the bulky bullet proof vests.

On the outside I wore a black sleeveless shirt that was strapped to my body with buckles, and with no sleeves you could easily see the silky armor that hugged my arms. Elbow length gloves were on each hand, black skinny jeans with boots that rose up to my knees. Like they were giving me extra padding just in case the armor wasn't enough.

The shirt had a low enough neckline, so it didn't get in the way of the collar they put on me. I'm not exaggerating either. The last thing Carter did was hook a thick metal collar around my neck. It had a GPS device in it, as well as the ability to shock me in case I got out of line. If I tried to take it off, I got shocked, if I left the mission area, I got shocked. It wasn't pleasant, and Carter didn't look all that happy either.

When I was dressed, Carter took a step back and almost fell with the way the van was bumping along whatever road we had taken. I remained standing, so he gave me an irritated glare that looked almost playful. Then he opened a black case that was sitting on one of the seats.

"Take what you think you'll need," Carter said, and I stepped forward.

As much as I hate to admit it, this was my favorite part. Choosing my weapons. I picked up two handguns and slipped them into holsters on either thigh before securing a scabbard strap along my chest and slipped several throwing knives into place within easy reach. I made sure I had extra bullets and the knives were securely sheathed before turning my attention to Carter, who was watching me intently.

He shut the case when he noticed I was ready and turned again, pulling out an ear piece and handing it to me, "You have a week," he said, "Use that to call us when you're ready to be picked up," he watched me slip the small device into my pocket, "Think you'll be okay?"

I gave him an empty look before turning away from him and standing on the other side of the van, my arm raised and holding onto one of the bars that ran along the ceiling. I watched him from behind my bangs, keeping my head bowed so he didn't notice my stare.

Carter was different. He wasn't completely cruel, he seemed to care, and that made me uneasy. Was he trying to trick me? Was it a test? Did he legitimately care if I would be okay? Doubtful. If he cared at all then he'd let me escape, but no, he came on the missions with me to keep an eye on me, to lock a collar on me and secure the puppet strings that would make me dance.