[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

Promises Of Death ✓

Imagine Dragons — Believer
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"fear not the darkness, but welcome it's embrace." —Unknown
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[A\N: A Call: is another name for a request that comes in from users over the dark web.]

The 31st of December, Year 2020.

     It's the last night of the year, New Year's Eve, and there are special tasks being distributed to the students, individually; their first official test. Children, ranging from the age of ten to eighteen are scattered across the matted floor of the training room, awaiting their instructions, while Petro paces before them and Nobosklav wheels an old desktop into the room.

     "Do you remember why you're here?" Petro turns to them as the computer is being set up.

     A random brunette from the group raises her hand, "You said you'd give us a purpose."

     "Yes," Petro nods, "that is what I said and you've all done well, following instructions to learn martial arts. Now, today, I shall give you that purpose I promised." He trudges toward the desktop. "I needed to know where your loyalty lies, so I never specified about anything. However, those who are smart would've noticed." He states in a thick Russian accent.

     A few mumblings begin and a voice protrudes from the noise. "Noticed what?"

     "We are all children that belongs nowhere and we're being taught martial arts. What do you think?" Alexa grumbles, rolling her eyes.

     Phillipeño stays quiet. The student body share glances of confusion and Nobosklav stands straight after getting the computer running. He shoots the back of Petro's head a look, wondering why the man won't just be straightforward. "You're all training to be assassins. You're going to kill people that makes calls and requests. You're all going to be renowned criminals." He tells them flatly.

     "What the hell?" A girl swears beneath her breath, while a boy stands abruptly.

     "I want out! I want no part in being a murderer!" He speaks loudly.

     Nobosklav sighs, "Would you rather die?"

     "O–of course not." He gapes, as everyone looks startled.

     "Then accept what you get. Or you can just die, since that's the only other option that's given."

     The boy grits his teeth.

     "You can also try to leave." Petro adds.

     "Try." Nobosklav echoes for emphasis. Not to be annoying, but he knows his brother and he knows that once the man is set on something, if he can't stop him, no one else can.

     The boys sits, disgruntled, and deep down he promises himself he'll find a way out. Alexa peers at him from her seat beside Phillip in the back. She knows the kind of look he wears on his face. She also had that look on her face two years ago.

     'A lot of people are going to die tonight,' She turns back to listen to Petro as he continues, 'and the days to come.' She brushes off any form of feelings that knocked at her conscience. Not even pity she lets in. Kindness gets you nowhere.

     "Here on this computer are a list of calls we've been getting from people." Petro announces, standing near the ancient device with a black round screen and green, bold lettering. "They either want someone dead, disabled, or, simply put, warned." He turns the screen to them, "These are coded as red, blue or green tags. Green is a warning, meaning you hurt them, just a bit, or do something that'll shake them up. Blue, you can either break a bone, take a sense, whatever suits your taste," Phillipeño flinches, "as long as they're not dead. Red, you rid them of life, blatantly so, no hesitation. Bang!"

     The room is quiet. Alexa leans slightly against Phillip and those that have gotten acquainted with each other shares unsure looks.

     "Any questions?"

     Many, but none dears to ask.

     Petro beams, "Excellent! Who wants to know their target first?"

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