Number: 35 Title: My Kingdom for an Assassin Type: Original fiction Unknown ---------- Synopsis: ---------- I don't what this is about, okay? I have no idea! And if I don't come up with something soon, it will be deleted! ---------- Scenes: ---------- Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblence of characters in this story to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Especially the part about the llama. Warning: This work contains strong language and "mature themes." If your brain might be malfunctioning, you should give it a tune-up before reading this. I suggest anything by Nietzche, "King Lear" by William Shakespear, and, if possible, Chronicles of War. That is all, enjoy your fic. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Today, it seems as if it happened all at once. When it happened, it seemed I had all the time in the world. ---------- High School. ---------- It's a boring Thursday afternoon. My math teacher is droning on and on and on and ON about solving equation pairs with two variables. We've been doing this stuff all I week and the equations she's running through I could do in my sleep. That's a good thing, because sitting at the edge of my desk, with my head propped lazily in one hand, I'm about to drop into never-never land. Like I said, boring. After class gets out, I look forward to having only one more hour of this to sit through today. Then I can go home and... and what? Argue with my mom, do homework even more boring and demeaning then the crap I just spent the better part of an hour snoring through? Getting into drunken brawls with my dad? What? I pass a girl with short hair. Very short, and tightly curled. It looks glued onto her head. Watching her bob past me curiously, I notice for a second that her eyes are watching mine. Just that, just watching. No sparks fly, to feeling of icy fear sliding down my back or anything like that. A fraction of a second later, we're separated from the campus crowd and go our separate ways. In English class I still remember her eyes. After school is out and I make the last two stops on my way off the school grounds, I remember those eyes. Simple brown, nothing else of note. That worried me. There was something wrong with the picture I held in my head, and as there was little in the way of intellectual stimulation in the entire school, I had spent most of my afternoon thinking about it. ---------- The Bus Stop. ---------- It wasn't like I was wishing for this to happen. I had been sitting quietly and minding my own business when she came walking up to me and asked to sit down. I looked at her, trying to move my brain out of its internal strategy session mode (preparing for when I would arrive home, an hour later) and into its conversation mode. After a second, I produced a palatable answer. "Sure." She smiled lightly and sat down without another world. Now this was strange. The cold, yet very tolerant way she had just treated me was most unnerving. It was like she knew my deepest secrets, and knowing them, had nothing to fear from me. I didn't know her name. I doubt she knew mine. Hell, she probably didn't know anything about me. I hadn't even _seen_ her until today, and yet... and yet there was something there, like she could sense everything I was thinking. "How strange." Did I say that? Did she? We both turned our heads to regard the other person, looking at each other as if for the first time. She looked even shorter sitting down, maybe five foot four, petite frame, with brown hair and brown eyes. I have to admit, she was cute, but her bodily charms was not what drew my immediate interest. Her hands where small but well-sculted, and her balance seemed unaffected by the large backpack she was carrying around. Every movement was precise and measured. In short, she looked like a martial artist trying to hide her skills, and for a moment, I wondered what it would be like to fight her. That's when the memory of her eyes came back. Curious, I looked into those brown orbs, trying to see past they physical, perhaps to look inside of her, to see what kind of person could posses such eyes. "What's so strange?" She asked, finally breaking the silence. I felt like hours had flown by, staring at her. But I didn't feel like rationalizing my actions. She wasn't mad, she just whispered the question in the same manner she had asked to sit down. I had to answer her. It just felt right. Considering my shy personality, it was surprising that I didn't feel nervous talking to her. "You know. Don't you?" Now she turns her eyes away from me, looking across the street but not really paying attention to it, like she is looking into another place entirely. "Yes." Now the fear came, in surging, frigid waves that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention and made my breath catch. Trying to settle my nerves, I nodded knowingly and focused on keeping my breathing even for the rest of our short and silent wait for the bus.