The Rose of Flames: Rising Tides

Chapter 8

March 3rd, 2037

3:00 P.M.

Cling! Tink!

An 8-year-old girl leaped back, her cobalt-blue eyes trained on a piercing forest-green glare, focus and fear flashing there as she twirled a knife in her pale fingers. She had skidded on the landing but was still standing; she'd narrowly avoided a skilled slash from the man in front of her, who had nearly no hair, pale skin, and a cane. He towered over the shrimpy girl he was training, whose small form had good potential for what she was being equipped to do but whose young mind was still unwilling to kill anyone.

The girl quickly ducked beneath the sharp blade as the man took another swipe at her, his green eyes blazing with ever-growing irritation. "Attack! Dodging can only go so far!" he scolded her as she dodged his knife once more. "Eventually you'll run out of energy or they'll catch you off guard and hit you! Do you want to die because you can't get your act together and defend yourself?"

Her shoulder-length blonde hair bounced as she dropped into a crouch and dove between his legs, kicking them and swiftly rolling out of the way. Her hands were slick with sweat and, as she stood up again to meet him, she felt her legs trembling. "Why do I have to kill people?" she countered. "People have lives, too! They shouldn't have to die because of something they do!"

"For God's sake, we've been over this!" he growled as he lashed at her with his dagger. The girl felt the air from the slash hit her face as she ducked below it again. "You can't be merciful! Being merciful will get you killed!"

She deftly sprang above the man as he jumped at her once more, rolling to the floor and back to her feet. Her blue orbs were trained on him as he turned to face her. She gritted her teeth, jaw clenched, a drop of sweat falling from the tip of her nose. She sank low and ran at him, but bobbed around and slammed her shoulder into his side while yelling, "Then I'll die knowing I didn't sink as low! Killing people isn't right! They shouldn't have to lose their lives for some stupid reason!"

Slice!

The girl staggered backward, the knife dropping to the ground with a clatter; she felt hot liquid splatter her left cheek, followed shortly afterward by searing pain. She saw a scarlet pool forming at her feet, and when she touched her cheek, she winced and pulled her hand away, jowl burning as if it was on fire. Looking back at her little mitt, she saw that it was coated red. Horrified, she looked up at the man, who was glaring daggers at her. His knife was drenched with a scarlet liquid, red droplets falling to the floor slowly. "Dodging won't win forever, you foolish little girl," he said calmly, though the girl could feel the venom in his voice burn her. "And now you'll have to live with that wound, knowing that something worse would have happened should this have been a real situation."

She stared at him, shaking. Hot, vermilion liquid dripped down her face, slime-like, as she spoke with a trembling voice. "C-Can I get some medical attention for this w-wound, father?" she stammered, fearing that she knew what his answer would be even before she'd asked the question. "I-I don't know how d-deep it is..."

The man, whom she believed to be her father, studied her briefly, before shaking his head. "It is deep," he told her coolly, his green eyes slits, "but it will heal without needing stitches."

Sighing, the girl nodded and turned. "I'll be in my r-room..." she said gloomily before stepping out of the training room they had been in. She turned to the right and walked down the plain hallway, her small feet tapping the floor below her. Scarlet dotted the concrete floor behind her as she headed away, holding back tears. She reached into the pocket of her pants and fished around momentarily before pulling out a soft white tissue. She reached up with the tissue and wiped it across her cheek. When she pulled it away, she sighed as she saw a similar view as she had when she put her hand to it. She mopped up the blood from her fingers and held the tissue to her damaged face. Her blue eyes, usually bright, were dull, and she stared at the floor as she headed down the meandering hallways.

She ducked around a corner and kept walking for a while before cracking open a dark oak door and going inside it, looking around the dimly lit closet. Boxes of various sizes littered the room, many stacked in the back of it and forming a little cove just big enough to fit her. On a box beside the doorway was a lantern that was emitting a soft golden glow. The girl clambered up onto the crates in the back and jumped into a little gap she'd made, landing silently on a blanket layer. She sat back against a box and looked through the food, drink, drawings, laptop, and random technological parts, as well as some little guides she'd found. She sighed and nudged aside a box of cereal she'd stolen to uncover a first aid kit.

While this room wasn't her bedroom, she certainly treated it like it was. She took a bandage from the little first aid kit and applied it to her cut, pressing it down firmly. Her 'father' didn't let her have medical treatment if her wounds in training weren't horrible, so she'd stolen the medical kit to treat them, herself.

At least I can stop the bleeding, the girl thought with a small sigh as she shut her stolen medical kit and hid it beneath her stash. She sat with her legs crossed and grabbed her laptop, clicking away for a while on a computer game she'd found.

And as she played, the door to her little hideaway began to creak open.

-=#(+)#=-

August 13th, 2047

9:48 A.M.

Switzerland

Catherine awoke with a jolt, feeling herself drip with sweat. She rubbed her hidden eyes with her pale gloved hands before looking at the window to the hotel room she'd rented out. Sunlight drifting into the blue-walled room, she glanced at the clock and sighed, getting out of the bed. Her feet reached the floor with a silent tap, and she headed toward the desk in front of her bed. She sat down and opened up her laptop, the very same laptop in the dream she'd just had.

Her mind wandered to all kinds of topics as she worked away, whirling from the dream to Thorn to Overshadow and eventually coming to rest on her conversation with the Overshadow commanders and Creon on Sunday. Morris had certainly been the fairer, politer of the two commanders, while Reis was more on the side of people that set Catherine off.

"Really?" Jake had asked, surprised. "How come?"

"People become my enemies for a variety of reasons," Catherine had told him calmly, "but a big one is when they try to use me."

She'd seen the gears in Gavin's head going, and she knew that he likely had some plans for her if anything happened. She had glanced at him hostilely from beneath her hood, and Gavin had seemed to return it briefly.

Jake had spoken again. "Well, miss," he had said sleekly, "I suppose we'll be in touch. Oh, and," he had added as he, Gavin, and Creon had stood up to leave, "if you ever decide you wish to join us, I'd happily allow it."

Catherine had been surprised when she'd heard him say that, replying with a quick "I'll consider it" before the men left.

It would certainly give me a chance to make up for what I've done, Catherine thought as she worked away at the flatscreen computer quietly, her eyes landing on the file for Jea. And maybe focusing more on doing stuff for good instead of how I normally do it would be a solid idea.