Weapon Twenty

Chapter III

   Once a weapon has reached the ripe age of fifteen they are sent outside for their first practice mission. I was so advanced in my level, I was sent outside at the age of twelve.

"Marceline are you listening?" Mr. Peters sighs waving a hand in my direction.

I don't immediately turn my head on command, forgetting that name now belongs to me. "This city's school semester has started and it's necessary for me to catch up and correspond with the curriculum, yes I know." I finally say turning my head to face him.

   "That means no doing what you did in levels, you know as much as a girl your age should know," He calculates his response carefully, making sure I'm fully aware of what he's telling me. "Pretend you aren't paying attention more often than you should. If you are asked the question 'are you listening?' by anyone else you respond with, 'huh?' is that clear?"

I give a small smirk, "Huh?" letting a breath of air escape with my response.

  I receive as sly a smirk for a reply. He continues to go down a list of rules for what is essential towards my well being.

Our current one sided conversation we're having, has both of us seated on the bed I awoke on, distressed and unaware.

It's thick pink sheets have been obstructed by a thick white comforter. The mid day light seeping in from the singular window makes the room appear larger than it was perceived in, from the encapsulating stale darkness.

There's a compact desk sitting in the corner of the room, decorated with pencil and pen filled cylinders. Right before the desk is a large laced purple chest set at the foot of the bed, contorting the ruffles of the comforter.

Other than the desk and chest located at the edge of the room, there is stout round wooden table next to where I'm seated. A single picture hangs on the bare walls, of what perceives to be an oak tree. The reminisce of the room is bare and not yet lived in, similar to my inhabitant room.

The recognisable difference is that I had been living in there for seventeen years. I have only been here for twenty-seven hours and forty-three minutes and it feels more of home than that room ever felt.

   "Get up." He instructs me to do while he twists to rise; I follow what he commands with the expression in his eye's. Mildly taking two backward steps, my back now facing the closed room door.

He reaches underneath the mattress​ to lift it, but as he let's go of his grasp to the matress, it lifts on it's own. The act revealing nothing but a bare wood panel underneath.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I inquire with a slight wave of my hand, while his gape still solidly focused on the plank of solid wood.

   "Flip that picture of the tree and hit the button," He countered. My rivet on the wood no longer acknowledged as I place my hand to the edge of the picture frame and swing it open.

There is a minuscule black button protruding from the wall. I turn my gaze back to the wood panel, at the same time my finger pressing the button.

The panel of the wood mechanically folds into three equal sections, revealing stacks of ammunition, rows of weaponry and in the corner are the knives that were gifted to me for my excellency in level eleven.

"My bo-shuriken!" I shout excitedly as I bend down to take hold of the black leathered satchel, layered with slices of sharp silver steel.

"That's not all, there's something waiting for you in the driveway." He smiles as he tugs his hand to my shoulder directing me to follow him.

We end in front of the large beige door centered in the living room wall. I abruptly pause realising this is the first time I will step outside as someone who's gifted with a tangible life and a name.

He takes hold of my hand and points his soft gaze directly into my eyes. "We are doing this together," he breathes giving my palm a light squeeze. "One step at a time."

I nod my head at his consolation as our grasp of each other drops and I continue following him outside. We walk along the path of narrow pavement, in-between the small green lawn, directed towards the driveway and I feel my eye's light up and my pulse speed at the sight of my bike.

"You had Thunderbird? I thought he was taken away when I ruined mission seventy-five?" I ask with confusion but is blocked by the excitement in my voice. I stalk towards my motorcycle, swinging a leg over and settling into having one comforting familiarity of this foreign life.

"I was the one who took it. I had to make it look like a punishment in front of him, so I could bring it here." I could hear the slight discomfort in his tone and the mention of him dims my excitement.

"Thank you." Was all I could muster. I meant it not only for the bike but for all that he has done for me. I witness relief in his expression and a slight glimmer spark in his eyes.

"There it is." He says satisfied, turning around taking a few steps back into the direction of the house.

Having no clue to what he was referring to, I lean and swing the same leg over and off my bike. I pace up the driveway to catch up with him and ask,"There what is?" Now matching stride with him.

"That smile I've been waiting for."