2072

ONE

THIRD PERSON P.O.V

SLAP

"TELL ME WHO YOU ARE,BITCH!", Valerie felt the metallic taste of blood in her mouth seconds after the stinging pain on her left cheek. Being abducted and tied to a chair by an ugly scar-faced man from a different clan is not how she expected to start her Monday morning.

The man waked towards her with slurred steps, his leather jacket moved backwards showing a caliber loosely kept in his waistband.

Valerie moved her heel to confirm that she was still installed with her custom knife that was gifted to her by Arthur: eight inch W-grade steel with a custom made handle design. She felt the assuring cut just above her ankle. She slowly started to untangle the rope tied in an amateur manner around her hand.

The man was around 2 steps away from her when Valerie threw the rope away, took her knife and sliced the man's mid section, before he could moan in pain she kicked him using both legs. The impact sending both of them flying in different direction.

Valerie heard a satisfying crack of wood she used her weight as an advantage and broke the chair. She stood and stretched her now sore muscles, walking towards the man, wow he really is ugly and the slice definitely did not help, she giggled at that thought but maintained her composure.

Looking around for an exit she realized the scene before her: a squared shaped room with a plastic door and no windows, there were some clothes and a bed in the far corner of the room and the stench of hard liquor had invaded the room. She took her knife and recited a verse as she easily cut his throat open and watched him choke on his own blood and meet death. She stripped the man's gun and walked out of the barely existing door.

The rays of the scorching sun which was now above her head blinded her for a few seconds. Blinking rapidly she realized that it was not a clan that had taken her but a falyr; they were the individual who left clans and chose to survive on their own.

Valerie knew the forest like the back of her palm and knew she was about 20 miles away from Cranston; the name of her clan. She broke into a run and headed towards her clan. After a solid run of two hours and with beads of sweat on her forehead she reached the border of Cranston. With hands on her knees, head down and heavy breathing she stopped to catch her breath. She hid her knife back in her boots and the gun in her waistband, secured.

She ran towards the training camp for she was about 3 hours late. Being the to-be head fighter of her clan this was not good.

Reaching close to the grounds she slowed down and walked towards the group of men and women dueling each other in a hand to hand combat. She looked around and realized everyone was looking at her or precisely someone behind her. There was an uncomfortable silence and the only thing that could be heard was the rattling of wind.

Suddenly she felt the presence of someone behind her, but before she could react a sword was on her neck. "You should learn to take orders."

Oh shit.