The Archer (18+)

Prologue 1: The beginning of the end

They shot me. I held my bloody leg as I limped madly off the road towards an alleyway. In the dead of the night, I squeezed myself into a crevice hoping to not aggravate my battered leg.

I surveyed my surroundings, pushing myself back as far as the opening would allow. I prayed that this tiny shelter was enough to conceal me from those Mexican fuckers hot on my tail. If not...

I clutched the gun I didn't dare to drop during my mad sprinting. It was as if Lucky was there waiting for me. Like it was a trap... but this couldn't be! How the fuck would he have known that I was coming for him, much less who I was?

I barely got two shots in before I started to get shot at from all different directions. I dodged what I could but I was outnumbered. Worse yet, I couldn't see where I was getting shot at from.

I had two seconds to decide. I could run and fight another day with my anonymity in-tact or I could play brave with the few bullets I had. Neither options were in my favor.

The only thing I thought about was my papa and my promise to him. Not even Usain Bolt could catch me now.

I sought out the dark before me while I was almost panting in the alley.  I did not have to wait long. The heavy sound of boots were fast approaching. My legs almost buckled under my weight.

I shook my head to diminish the now-growing sweat forming on my brow. My heart surged with each deafening stomp of leather upon asphalt.

I cautiously, with evaporating precision, aimed towards the road. I couldn't take them all. I knew I couldn't. I was heavily outnumbered with a torn up leg; but my ego wouldn't have me yield. Not even if it meant the death of me.

Dammit hands! Now is not the time to play quivering leaves!

Focus Abrielle!

I quickly weighed my options as a group of monstrous beasts barrelled their way past me on the perpendicular street. Their grunts were ruthlessly colliding with my quaking spirit. It was not worth it. The target was Lucky Rodriguez, not two men-three if they did not see me right away. I would be ripped to pieces if I acted recklessly. But I had to... do...something.

Do something! Save your face and DO SOMETHING!

I released the trigger.

I exhaled a slow breath. They were gone, at least for now. I looked around sharply before allowing my arms to lower to my sides.

Shame washed over me immediately. I fucking failed my mission and now everyone was going to know about it. How the actual fuck did this even happen? How on God's green earth did Lucky know?

I hurriedly activated my tracker in my neck by slowly tapping a spot below my nape. A brief vibration of activation followed shortly after. Someone was on their way to come get me.

I began tucking my gun in my purse when I caught a glimpse of my leg through my curly strands. I was shot twice and it was a bloody mess.

I smiled humorlessly at the blood from my flesh making art of the asphalt below my boots.

This seemed just all too fucking convenient. Too... planned. Someone had the fucking balls tonight. The absolute fucking nerve. I was going to give that Mexican a quick death but now I have no choice but to make him suffer.

Him and whoever planned this.

I slid to the unwelcoming alley floor, the chilly evening breeze whipping at my exposed flesh. I sat tight, thinking of the many ways to torture men.

Soon, the black van pulled up at the mouth of the alley. I took a deep breath, ready to hop or drag my leg completely.

Inside the van was two stocky yet identical men . Both were Polys and neither had any experience with being a Shadow. Just my fucking luck! I would have to literally bite the bullet until we got to the Mexican headquarters.

The driver hadn't faltered; as soon as I slammed the door shut she floored the pedal. My entire body set aflame with pain when the van jolted forward.

Me duele.

I bit the inside of my cheek to deter the pain.

The Poly on the left, whom I didn't care enough to learn his name, unhurriedly deactivated my mask, freeing it from my head. He then casually evaluated my state of disarray, starting from the brown hair of my head and ending at the blacks of my boots.

No words were spoken when he signaled to the other Poly of my injury. They exchanged disapproving looks, one that I knew far too well, as one of them retrieved a phone from his bag.

He made a call and spoke lowly intentionally using Mexican slangs so I wouldn't understand. I was sure it was their Prez, Martin. In a moment, he ended the call and I watched him expectantly as my leg bled profusely.

"You'll be tended to by a doctor whereafter you'll be put on a plane to  your base in Spain. Our Prez, Martin, will not be seeing you off as he is very disappointment that you have failed."

The Poly then turned his back as if me almost losing my life in this mission wasn't even worth recognition or his time. Perhaps it wasn't.

The only thing that mattered was that I failed and in this world, failures only got recognition upon redemption.