Dylan Daley was a child trained by secret agents and specialists from all over the world, and his father prepared him for something terrible. And on his 18th birthday, his skills were finally utilised. The world had fallen to anarchy, and the event...
Within 48 hours, Dylan Daley had discovered more information on an elite group of killers, the group of Savagery. Just a few hours earlier, he and Freya discovered that this group were dominating the world. They had targets placed over a thousand heads, in every country and almost every city. And Dylan could only find one name that had an address. It was a start, a way forward. Or so he thought.
Dylan was resting, trying to rest, on the sofa in the living room of the safe house. There was complete silence, and darkness. It was almost 10pm and within an hour himself and Freya were to embark on a mission. Their first mission together. They were going to search for more targets, starting with Aaron Abrahams. Dylan pondered over the decision for hours, unsure of the right thing to do. Yet he knew there was nothing else to do. At least if there were a few more people like him in the same room, they could work together to destroy the group of Savagery.
After hours of trying to sleep, Dylan drifted into a snooze and was woken just minutes later by Freya. He could feel the harsh sting of exhaustion in his eyes, and the dryness in his throat making him feel even less alive than before he slept. He sat up and stared at Freya, who he failed to notice was talking directly to him. A look of annoyance was plastered over her face, and her perfect eyebrows were now in a frown.
"Do you care about anything I just said?" Freya asked, her annoyance showing through her tone also. Dylan didn't want to say no, which was the honest truth, but he also didn't want to answer her at all. Yet she insisted he answered as she pressed on. "Well?"
"No, I really don't care," he admitted, getting up and walking off. He could hear Freya swear at him as she sat there, watching him walk off. Dylan didn't like Freya too much. He was happy that we wasn't alone, but to him it was like a work 'friendship'. Outside of work, Freya was a stranger to him and he didn't want to know anything more.
In the kitchen, Brian had a pot of coffee waiting for Dylan. There were a number of papers on the island countertop which Brian was reading through. He lifted his head when Dylan approached, who had already poured himself a cup of coffee. It was strong, and slightly bitter, just how he liked it. Dylan stood beside Brian, looking at the scattered papers. It was print outs of the database, and there was an enlarged photograph in the middle that haunted Dylan's thoughts. Robert Greyson.
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"Once you're showered and dressed, I'll lead you and Freya to the armoury. You'll need to suit up for the mission" Brian directed, without looking at Dylan. He was invested in the papers, especially the photograph. Dylan could tell it was bothering Brian, still. This was a friend of theirs, so Dylan couldn't imagine how he was feeling. Brian and Dylan's father were both betrayed by this man and Dylan was going to find out why. It's the least he could do.
Moments later, Dylan heads to shower and dress. He feels just like he did when he first arrived at the safe house. Broken, but somehow still functioning. The hot water felt foreign running down the length of his body. Nothing felt normal. But to Dylan, this was now the normality of his life. To others, this would be a clear sign of abnormality. But why is something normal to one person abnormal to another? Dylan had no real answer to this.
