(ON HOLD)The Heartless Cruel

Chapter 2

Approaching the door of the building, Clifford stopped me, with a guilt stricken expression now. It didn't fade away like before. It made me wonder, what did he do?

"Before we go in, I just want to say I'm sorry, but this is for a greater good," he said, as if he was trying to get the words through my brain, with the way he stared deep into my eyes.

"But don't worry, you'll do well." He all but rushed, looking nervously around before staring at me again at the end.

"What? What greater good?"

"You'll find out soon enough, when the right time comes." He vaguely responded. I scrunched my eyes in annoyance.

So many vague statements....

I was now becoming angry by the second, but I forced the feeling down and pushed past him, opening the door. This was really annoying.

We both walked down the hall and passed the training rooms where persons were currently training, either mercilessly hitting their opponent, or simply exercising. We climbed the flight of stairs, which led upstairs to the trainers' offices and storage rooms for equipment.

Mr Maxwell hesitantly looked at me from the corner of his eyes, and opened the door. I rolled my eyes visibly now.  I'm sure we're meeting a human, not an ape or gorilla. No-one can be so threatening. Well... not to me at least. People didn't scare me in general... But Maxwell.... Maxwell seemed way out of it.

                          ******

Inside was a man... see...not an animal after all... standing by the window, dressed in black. Even when the door closed, he didn't care to turn around until Mr Maxwell called over to him.

Hmm... very arrogant I see.... Thought Sir Maxwell here was the one to do that.

He turned around and strode over to us with a powerful aura radiating from him. He wasn't looking at me, nor anyone it seemed, but I somehow found myself shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Mr Maxwell, though he tried to hide it, was immensely unnerved. Petrified even.

Ok....so he wasn't an animal... that's good...but maybe.... he was threatening after all....just  a bit though... a tiny weeny bit.

This man, walking towards us was.... different. Never had I seen such.... difference in a man. He didn't seem like those arrogant business bastards who philandered. Oh no.. Not even like who they'd term as 'heartless.' He looked way more than just that.

He looked about 5'11, slim but muscular, with shoulders that were not wide, but not small either, which were squared; brown reddish hair which was styled very simply, and grey eyes. Eyes which were dark, but held nothing in them. Not a single emotion was in them. It was almost like looking into the eyes of... a corpse. Absolutely no life was in them. Perhaps that greatly contributed to the slight fear I felt and the intense one of  Mr Maxwell. Poor thing... He looked like he could be anywhere other than here, in a meeting with this 'last heir.'

The man's whole aura was insipid, cold and altogether, he just looked... dead. He didn't scream danger...oh no... he screamed... death. He seemed to have a dead soul, with the way his face was hardened in a permanent state, and how his hands were- folded into a fist, which seemed to be second nature, hinted by the little lines around his fist. I just couldn't find the right words to describe how frigid he was.

Ok... so maybe he was a big deal threatening.

He came to a stop before us, towering over my small frame, and that of my instructor. He still didn't seem to realise that I was here.

"Mr Singh," Clifford said, with a nod as a greeting. He was so serious, that I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in amusement.

"Maxwell," the unknown man said. Not even a sir or Mr- just 'Maxwell.' He seemed to be around 21. Clifford here though, was 26- maybe not a big age difference, but he could be his lecturer!

Mr Maxwell then gestured to me and said, "Ms Clear, I'd like you to meet Mr Arnate Singh. Mr Singh, this is Ms Rosette Clear, your partner," he introduced us.

Wait a minute... What? Did he just say 'partner?' What nonsense is this? What did he mean by partner?

Turning to look at this Mr Singh, I almost cowered when I met his eyes. They seemed to glare right through me, stripping me of everything which made me Rosette Clear. But then I realised... that was his nautral look- cold and deadly.

"This is her," he said, in a low hard, icy voice. So low I could hardly hear.I didn't know if that was meant to be a question or a statement, but what I did know was that,  his voice was deeply enriched with a thick French accent, mixed with something else. Where was this dude from? His accent didn't sound like a French person only.

Not wanting to let him  see that I'd rather run through the door, I did what any other normal, sane person would. I greeted him.

"Yes. I am Rosette Clear. Pleased to meet who I've been vaguely told about," I said, outstretching my hand out to him. He looked at my hand, but totally disregarded it and looked back over to Mr Maxwell.

Ok then. I was indescribably embarrassed and slowly withdrew my hand. How rude.

"Rosette," Mr Maxwell started. Mr Singh here will be training with you for the next six months for the upcoming championship. The organization has decided to let the two best fighters train, based on a contract between myself and the organization. You'll be informed of what you need to know. Other information will be withheld until further notice.

I stared wide eyed, mouth agape at him. His expression was mixed with pain, worry and guilt, but his voice was firm with a finality, that I couldn't even hear my own questions I wanted to hurl at him. I was so bewildered, that I became unaware of Mr Singh and Mr Maxwell exchanging glances, Mr Singh asking "May I" and Mr Maxwell reluctantly nodding.

I only came back to awareness when I felt a sharp pain erupting from my nose, blood spewing, and mouth nastily splitting from the impact of my teeth smashing on it. I plummeted  to the ground, about 5 feet away from the men, landing ungracefully which spiked the soreness of my ill body.

"That was just a reminder or a mere introduction of who you'll be dealing with. You should prepare thoroughly in order to train on my level woman," Mr Singh said.

Turning around and slowly getting up,  I clutched my beaten face and willed the tears to not flow. The only thing which processed, apart from the pain and what he said, was the fact that he hits girls- which was highly condemned by the organization. I wonder why. It seems that in every state, sub authority had different rules. But I guess even that I'll not know for now.

I was hurt, and looking over at Mr.  Maxwell, I wanted nothing more than to smash his handsome pained face. How could he do this? He mouthed an "I'm sorry. I'll tell you later," but I quickly averted my gaze to the man who hit me.

I guess he was as threatening as how Sir Maxwell was implying.

The same blank, dead expression was on his face as he looked at me. Only now, his statement came back to mind. He didn't call me by my name. He called me woman.

"My name is Rosette Clear sir," I blurted out, struggling to keep down a growing lump in my throat.

He only looked at me a little longer then turned his gaze towards Clifford.

"Are we done here Maxwell?" He asked.

"Yes we are," he replied,  then looked at both Mr Singh and I before continuing. "Your things, Rosette and Mr Singh, are being moved to the building where you'll stay to train. You'll be upstairs, while your fellow trainees will stay downstairs. A drive will be arranged for you two to be transported there. So wait at your boarding residence by 6pm this evening," he finished.

With that, he further said we are dismissed,  and Mr Singh all but marched through the door without a word, surprisingly closing it softly.

I stared at Mr Maxwell, trying my best not to think differently about him. Opening my mouth, I said the words which pictured exactly how I felt.

"I feel betrayed sir."