ii. orientation

ii. ORIENTATION

"Get your hands off of me before I rip your head off."

"That's enough of you," Ace says while pushing me forward. He took off his tie and gagged me with it. I try to fight back but the handcuffs around my wrists limited my range of motion.

"If you keep talking I'll put a bullet through my own head."

"Aren't you just a Prince Charming?" I spit. Unfortunately, the insult wasn't really audible through the gag.

We arrive at a penthouse in downtown Manhattan. The extravagant place was adorned with expansive with marble floors, high-rise glass walls, and gold strung chandeliers. But more subtly, there were also see small cameras monitoring our every move.

The mahogany doors opened to reveal the figures of two men and one woman that turned around to witness the commotion. My feet begrudgingly move as Ace pushes me over to them.

"I want you to meet the last member of our team, Octavia Snow."

The three people in front of me were all unbelievably attractive. All three had toned bodies and seemed fit enough to be in professional sports. Like seriously, how was this even statistically possible? They could be winners of America's Next Top Criminal if that was a show.

I felt like a potato standing near them.

"Why exactly is she wearing handcuffs and gagged?" A man with perfect ocean blue eyes and dirty blond hair asks while choking back laughter.

Ace runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to talk about it."

"No offense, but she doesn't exactly look like she's capable of physical combat," a man with tanned skin and dark features states. "Don't tell me you got beat up by her."

The woman with toned skin and a loose headscarf pulls the tie out of my mouth.

"I promise I'll behave," I say.

Ace hesitantly undoes my handcuffs. As soon as I'm free, I sprint towards the door. Sadly, Ace is able to grab me before I can take even three steps. This was pathetic.

"You just made a big mistake." He puts the handcuffs back on me before I could fight back.

"If I wanted to know about mistakes I'd ask your parents."

"Do you ever stop talking? You're like a fucking teenage girl obsessed with Ryan Gosling."

The woman clears her throat to get our attention. "So Octavia, why were you recruited?"

I scowl at Ace. "I was kidnapped because I hacked into the Pentagon."

The man with dirty blonde hair grins at me. "Good work." The celebration of a federal crime elicits an eye roll from Ace.

"So who are you guys?" I ask, realizing it was rude of me to not know my teammates.

"I'm Chase Kingsley," the man with blonde hair says while extending his hand. "I used to run a mafia syndicate a couple years back." My tongue gets caught in my mouth. The only response I could muster was a polite nod. This is way out of my league.

"Skye Antar," the woman smiles. The way she said her name conveyed elegance. I make a mental note to practice introducing myself later. "Ex-thief. I used to sell art on the black market until I was swooped up by the CIA."

She absentmindedly toyed with a small dagger during her interaction. The sharp blade cut through the air smoothly. I kept unwillingly flinching to get away from the sleek edge.

"Xavier Legion," the man with dark features states. His hands are folded against his chest. "Assassin."

I waited for the punchline but it never came. My mind goes blank. This guy is an assassin? Crime and stealing I was fine with, but murdering people? Xavier gave me a satisfied grin when he saw my awestruck expression.

"Try to keep up, Rookie."

~

After introductions from my teammates, we were led to one of the rooms in the penthouse. A giant projector in the front read "Project Casliter". There are exactly five tables and chairs available. One for each of us. An older man wearing a suit comes into the room with a SWAT team following him. The soldiers systematically file into the room, each with their guns motionlessly drawn at us.

The precise and purpose-filled exactness of everything, from the soldiers to the room itself, was eerily off-putting. Palatable tension is found in even the crevices of the room. My fingernails dig into my balled hands as I try to release some of the budding nervousness.

But hey, at least it wasn't exams.

The room is shushed by the man as he starts the presentation. "Good morning. I'm the director of the CIA. As you all know by now, you are the first participants of a program designed to create a bilateral agreement between criminals law enforcement."

"This program is called Project Casliter. Your job, as participants, is simply to complete all the missions we brief you with, no questions asked."

"So we're your prisoners then," Chase interrupts.

The Director smiles cooly. "The alternative for all of you would be maximum security prison. Consider this an olive branch Mr. Kingsley."

"An actual prison has precautions to make sure their prisoners don't escape..." I start, "Other than the monitors you've set up that even juveniles could hack into, what are those precautions in our case?"

I wondered what Ace thought about these blatantly hostile exchanges. From the corner of my eye, I can see him sitting absolutely expressionlessly.

The Director tightens his jaw. His smile falters a little. "Since you've asked so nicely, Miss Snow, microchips were installed in your neck when you were all knocked out by the sleeping gas. If it's removed or leaves the premise without authorization, it sends a little electric shock through the synapses in your spine."

"You fucking did what?" Xavier yells while slamming his hands against the table. The outburst rattles the law enforcement beside him. To return the favor, they lock their aim on Xavier.

My hand slowly brushes against my neck. Instead of smooth skin, there's a small bump that resembles a mole.

"What do you mean by a small electric shock?" Skye questions.

"I mean you'll be completely paralyzed if you don't comply." The Director's voice is cold and frost sets into the room.

After a bit of silence, the Director clears his throat. "Alright team, rest up. We'll give you the details of your first mission next week."

3:03AM.

3:05AM.

3:06AM.

The clock moved so slowly. The night moved so slowly. An hour passed full of tossing and turning underneath the moon. Every time I felt drowsy, a nightmare of somehow being killed during my time here would jolt me awake. I couldn't stand to be in my bed anymore.

A curious dim light led me to the living room. The source of the faint glow was the refrigerator, where Xavier stood while shoving his face with a full cheesecake. We make uncomfortable eye contact mid-bite.

"This never happened Rookie," he states.

I give him a terrified nod. He was a murderer, after all. It would take a lot of time before I got pass that.

I do some exploring of my own and find some sort of secure facility. A padlock guards the door. Curiously, I put my hand on the screen. The metal door slides open at my touch. Brick walls surround the room. There are deadly weapons hanging on the walls, exercise machines along the edge, and the center is fitted with a giant training mat.

Ace is pummeling one of the punching bags.

Not to mention he's shirtless. And sweating. I actually think glistening might actually be a better verb. The whole scene is undeniably attractive. But just as my gaze is fixated on his abs, he stops.

Shit, he noticed me. I spin around instinctively to fight the red blooming in my face.

"Like what you see, Cupcake?" He smirks. "I don't mind an audience."

I force myself to turn back around to fight for my dignity. "Oh please, I've seen better. You look like a discount Channing Tatum blow-up doll."

"Ouch. But how would you know what that looks like unless you've used one?"

I raise my eyebrow at him. How dare he? "I'll have you know I could probably hack into your microchip and electrocute you."

Ace takes a couple of steps close to me. Too close. My breathing hitches as I try to hold my ground.

"Well, Cupcake. Right now I could do anything physically to you that I wanted. Whereas you couldn't hurt me without your little gadgets."

I throw a punch at his chest to prove a point. The hit was quick, smooth, and clean. But still, he didn't even react. Upon impact, a shot of pain rippled through my wrist which caused me more pain than it caused him.

"What the hell are you made of?" I cry.

Ace knocks my footing down and sends me falling on the mat.

"Was that really necessary, you asshole?"

Ace quickly forms a cage around me with his body on the ground. Two hands pin both of mine over my head, and despite my struggle, I'm unable to fight back.

We stay like that for a bit. My breathing becomes shallow in this compromised position. I make eye contact with his gold gaze and try to figure out the person behind them. He does the same to me.

Ace abruptly clears his throat and offers me a hand up. "You see, you'd be dead in the field in minutes. You need training. Meet me here tomorrow at 6 AM sharp."

"You really shouldn't train the person who just threatened to kill you, Banana Bread."

"I'll take my chances, Cupcake."

Ace: "Vote if you hate gym class"