Rogue (Under Rewriting)

Chapter Six

New York, 2012, hours later

Alex's knuckles were bloody from where her bare skin had repeatedly punched the leather punching bag. Small piles of sand pooled on the floor beneath her from slits in the material hanging above. It had been a relatively new bag when she had started, now it looked like it had been used for weeks nonstop. The gym around her was quiet and dark, small amounts of light showered in from the street lights.

She punched again. A combination engraved in her mind. With each punch, the crack in the wall was filled. After the second hour, it looked as if the crack had never been there in the first place. After the third hour, the switch was broken and spewed sparks. Now in the fourth hour of punching the same bag, it looked like a completely different headspace. The original wall had now multiplied and the switch's remains were nowhere to be found.

With a particularly harsh punch, the small split in the bag developed into a full rip. More sand fell and pooled around her feet as she lowered her bloodied hands to her side. She rolled her head to one side and held it for a few seconds before rolling it to the other side. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, flicking her wrist as she felt her power pulse.

Slowly opening her eyes, she ignored the smooth leather punching bag and her now uninjured hands. The floor showed no traces of sand or sweat. It was as if she was never there. Her bag sat unopened on the bench she had tossed it on when she first arrived. She has barely spared it a second glance until now.

She didn't need to look at them anymore. She had memorized them word for word. It was in her nature to memorize anything given to her for fear of punishment for not knowing the answer to something. The last thing she or anyone else needed was her forgetting something mid-mission and screwing everything up. No one wanted to be around if she messed up.

Alex had messed up once her entire life. She was twelve, on a mission with the part of being someone's daughter. She was supposed to sit back and let them do all the work, and she did just that. Until she was asked a question and answered it using the wrong name. It was a small mistake. One that could have easily been overlooked or covered up. But He didn't overlook or cover up mistakes. He punished them.

She couldn't speak for two weeks after that mission. Her throat was raw from all the screaming she had done. Her face was bruised and swollen. Her fingers were broken. Her shoulder was dislocated. She hadn't made a mistake since.

Grabbing her bag by the straps, she exited the gym and locked the door. It must have been close to midnight now. Alex, gripping her bag tighter, made her way down the street towards her apartment building. She was halfway to her apartment when a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead of her. The figure was large and muscled, no doubt a male. They looked giant compared to Alex.

She didn't slow her pace. She had no doubt that she could take them on in a fight if it came down to it.

"Это занимает больше времени, чем он хочет." (It takes longer than he wants.) The rough voice spoke.

"Скажите ему, что это почти сделано. Мне нужно еще несколько дней." (Tell him it's almost done. I need a few more days.) She responded as she kept walking past the large figure. She rounded the corner and got halfway down the block before another figure stepped out. This figure was smaller than the other but still muscular.

"Он очень нетерпеливый человек." (He's a very impatient person.) He spoke in a flat voice.

Alex sighed as she got closer. "Он может подождать еще несколько дней, если хочет, чтобы это было сделано правильно." (He can wait a few more days if he wants it done correctly.) She passed by him, ignoring his hungry stare.

"Я бы поторопился, если бы был на вашем месте. Он начинает скучать по своей любимой игрушке." (I would hurry if I were you. He's starting to miss his favorite toy.) Her breathing hitched in her throat but she refused to stop or show him that she acknowledged his words.

Toy. His favorite toy. Another tick to make her question if she was human. Is she human? Or is she just a toy that could be weaponized for His pleasure? What was she without Him? She was nothing. He had told her that many times. She was nothing without Him. Without Him, she had no purpose in the world. With Him, she was a monster trained to listen and obey. Without Him, she was nothing. At times, being nothing sounded a lot better than being her.

Before she realized it, Alex was in front of her door turning the key to unlock it. The door swung open with a light shove. The blonde caught the door before it hit the wall next to it. Walking past the kitchen, she placed her bag and keys down on the table. A now cold bowl of yellow cheese and noodles sat abandoned in front of the chair she had occupied earlier that day. A spoon lay beside the bowl on a napkin, ready to be used. Grabbing the bowl, spoon, and napkin, Alex made her way back into the kitchen. She dumped the cold food and napkin in the trash before putting the bowl in the sink. She slide the drawer that held the utensils open before placing the spoon in its designated spot.

She unlocked her bedroom door, her bag surrounded by purple wisps now floating in behind her. She dropped the bag in the corner of her room with a flick of her fingers. The hairs on the back of her neck had stood up the second she entered the room. She could feel it in the air that something was off. Someone was here.

Seconds away from reaching for her gun that was still tucked away in her pants, she paused. The scent in the air caused her to stop. She could recognize that cologne anywhere. It was His cologne.

"Дайте мне еще несколько дней." (Give me a few more days.) Her voice was quiet. She couldn't tell if it was because she was scared of angering him or scared of waking the teen in the next room.

"Почему? Это уже должно было быть сделано." (Why? This should have already been done.) His voice was low, barely above a whisper. The blonde felt her palms clam up as the air grew thicker.

"It's taking longer than we originally planned." Her English was coated in a thick Russian accent. She could practically feel his eyes darken at her language switch.

"Longer than we originally planned," he repeated slowly. The chair in the corner of her room creaked as he stood up. The street light outside illuminated his face for a split second as he passed the window. His jaw was coated in a grey stubble, his nose was slightly crooked, and his eyes were set in a deadly glare. Any other person would have turned away from the man but Alex wasn't any other person. She knew what he was capable of. Her training kept her feet and body planted while her mind screamed at her to run away.

"I'm close. I just need a few more days," she assured the taller man. He said nothing as he nodded. His right hand raised to rub his jaw as if he was in thought. A split second later, the blonde's cheek stung and her neck screamed in pain from before being forced to the side so quickly.

Her heart raced and skipped beats as his rough hand grabbed her jaw tightly. His fingers squeezed her face, turning her head to face him again. His face, inches away from hers, was twisted in anger. "Два дня. У вас есть два дня. Сделайте это." (Two days. You have two days. Do it.) He forced her head away from him, moving out the open door. Alex could hear his footsteps echoing through the dining room and then the kitchen. A second pause before the front door creaked open and then slammed shut.

The blonde cringed at the loud noise, silently hoping it didn't wake Bailey up. She gave a small sigh of release at the quiet apartment before turning to her bathroom to assess her cheek.