Frozen Solid

Dove

Loise felt the dead autumn wind bite.  Their rain-streaked faces were staring to the sky.  It was a drill, to see if she could outlast her trainer.

The shooter had told her to call her Ash.  An alias, she claimed, to be infinitely changeable.  Loise was mimicking her master.  Her alias was Dove.  Ash however, never addressed her as such.

It was always pretty, cute, canary, strawberry, pasty, tiny, Minnie mouse, jumpy, chickadee, etc.  Her demeaning, teasing, cynical nicknames for Loise were annoying.  So what if she did her hair every morning!

Lots of girls did.  In fact, it was normal.  How things should be.  It helped Loise fit in, and now it helped Loise keep some shred of sanity.

“Ash, I can’t feel my feet!”

“No moving, baby girl.  Or else.”

“I’m not a-”

“Hush, jumpy.” Ash said, folding her hands.  Loise copied; miffed, wet, and itchy.  This, as Ash put it, would put hairs on her chest, but the way it was going was more likely to put hairs on her feet.

This was her training.  She was going to be a government spy.  It was this or death.  She had to endure and be strong.  She wasn’t giving up on life.  Not when she had so much more life to live.

…

Deven was about to meet his charge.  The president’s son.  What type of monster would he be?  The president’s son, the son of a man who enslaved the whole world, killed countless innocents… would his son be the same twisted way?  He was already a known killer, he’d killed a guard.

But could a little kid be as evil?  Yes.  The kid would be a devil.  No normal child would kill.  Deven felt his deep hate of the government rise whenever he thought about this kid.  Raised as a murderer, the symbol of the world that Deven had fought to change.

The guard; who had escorted him everywhere until now; smiled and opened up the door.  He nudged Deven’s stone body into the warm room.  “Com’n kid!  Hayden ain’t nothing to be scared of!”

‘Oh yeah?’ Deven thought.  Who knows what the devil mini-me would be like, considering he ruthlessly killed a man?

“Is that my new guard?” A sophisticated voice drawled.

Deven looked at the speaker.  A thirteen year old boy, at most, stood in front of him.  The kid had to be less than 4’11”.

“STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!” The kid shrieked, curling up into a ball.

Um… Deven would think it’d be an understatement to call this brat overemotional.  What was that disease again?  Did this kid have mental health problems on top of it too?  Deven didn’t even want to know…

The door swung shut.  The guard had left him with the brat.  Ugh…

“Hey, you should get up now.”

The kid rose up, brushing off imaginary dirt and dust.  His head slowly revealed his eyes, their pupils dilated in rage.  “Don’t speak to me inferiorly!  I am your master!”

Deven was scared.  He reacted the only way he knew how to.

“Calm down!  Sheesh!  How does anything deal with you?!  You’re so abnormal I can‘t stand you!”  Deven shouted back, angry.  This was a serious problem!  He was not babysitting this Satan child!  He might die or he might go insane; whichever came first.

“My dad hates me!!  At least your parents can love rebel scum!”

Deven blinked, all rage gone.  The president hated his son?  His own son?  Even when he was a rebel, Deven’s parents had tried to support him.  They had met their death swiftly had the hands of the government.  Even as a murderer, Deven’s parents would have been accepting and loved him.  Speaking softly, Deven asked, “He hates you?  Why?”