A Hunters Prey

Chapter 7: Perception

Sweat dripped down my back, and my heart raced in my chest. I knew that I should have stopped a long time ago but it was like I couldn't, this happened when I was stressed; I overdone things.

The timer set off from the kitchen, echoing through the silent house. I wasn't a fan a noise, not even when I was working out. Ingrid loved music when she was in the gym but it always distracted me, threw me off task.

A grunt left me as I uncurled my fingers from the pull-up bar, and lightly dropped onto the balls of my feet. Mau was lounging leisurely on the living room rug, her favorite spot where the sunlight shone through the long clear windows that made this apartment so expensive.

I knew that the exposure would make me uncomfortable but I couldn't deny myself the view of the city. From up here, I could pretend it was something other than the truth; I could imagine that it was a beautiful society with no bloodshed or inhumanity.

But I knew the truth; I always would.

Spices filled the air in my kitchen, wafting from the pot of curry I've been setting for the past couple of hours. Cooking happened to be one of the random talents I picked up, I don't know why or how I found so much enjoyment in the activity.

Maybe it was because I was in control of absolutely everything, and with perfect precision, I could make something delicious.

Or kill someone.

I was grinding more spices when Ingrid's name popped up on my personal cellphone, "Did you know that Ariadne is dead?" Was Ingrid's greeting, and I could hear the sound of traffic in the background.

"Yeah, I heard." I admitted, because by now everyone knew. An agent that talented wouldn't go unnoticed for long, "It was supposedly a Syndicate operative."

Ingrid's sigh overshadowed the howl of horns, "I hope they find the son of a bitch!" She muttered, somewhat distracted and I wondered what she was doing, "You know, she was the one who told me how to defuse a bomb with my nail kit."

"I remember." I said with a slight smile, putting the lid back over my pot. Seasoned naan bread was baking in my oven, and I checked to see how fair it had raised, "Do you know whether she took the cyanide?"

There was a cackle of air through my receiver before Ingrid grunted and responded, "You didn't know?" She replied more breathless now, "Her body was pretty much destroyed. The only reason she was identified was because of her dental records."

"Really?" I found myself asking, wondering just what this rogue operation done to our mentor. Maybe they had tried to cover their tracks by trying to destroy evidence, "Is this a bad time?"

Even though it was her that called me, Ingrid didn't sound like she had time to talk. The sound of something clattering followed by something whooshing through the air was all I got in reply, and then the sound of huffing.

"Not anymore." Ingrid sounded victorious, her voice easier to hear now. It sounded like a window had been winded up again, "Drive by, sorry babe. Anyway, I called to let you know that there's going to be a small memorial on Friday."

Memorials weren't held for every dead Huntress but sometimes they did. We were independent in our adulthood but as children, we trained as a sisterhood that never really died. Some of us moved on but we would always have those associates we would stay close to.

Ariadne was one of those women who made plenty of connections; she was admired, even from a young age. Two years older that my year, she was kind of like an icon; she never failed, never gave in.

"I'll be there." I said in reply to the unasked question. Ingrid was confident in all manners but sometimes she didn't always vocalize what runs through her mind to me, "Do you want to come over for dinner?"